Wednesday, March 31, 2004
-Moonbase, "UFO"
Early early Thursday morning, Becca and I are taking a taxi to Liverpool Street where we will then hop on a train to Stansted. We are flying to Italy.
We'll get into Pisa on Thursday morning, grab a bite, take a picture of us leaning like the Tower, and then hop a train to Florence, where we stay Thursday night. We'll see David (you know, the tall guy who Michelangelo hung out with) and then on Friday, we go to Rome. We'll kick it with the Pope and his crew, and then on Sunday night, we return to Ingerland (England).
While in Rome, I do hope I can pray with the Pope, and see if he'll ease up on the homos. I am quite fond of them homos, you know.
And if not, I still imagine we'll have a good time.
Now, many of you will note the absense of Venice or Milan, but I imagine we can still have fun where we go. Amy said that when she was in Venice, it was very romantic, but instead of being there with her boyfriend, she was there with five of her friends. While I would enjoy being with those lovely ladies, I understand her point. The girls opted to get really shitfaced.
Funny story about Venice, though, and this comes courtesy of the S-Gr*bb himself. Last year when Sh@ffer was sashaying his way across Europa, he stopped in Venice and the guy who ran his hotel told him he should be a male model. He kept saying he should meet with him, but the guy was sketchy about times. When they finally did meet, the guy indicated that S-Gr*bb would have to, shall we say, "Go West" if he wanted a career as a male model. That is, he'd have to sleep with other guys. He didn't take the job. If only he had known Keith back then, and maybe our little matzo ball could be overseas by now.
About Becca, my travel buddy:
She's a junior, from Florida, though she was born here in England. Her parents are British and both have accents. She talks like a normal American, though. And she's Catholic. Her boyfriend, Dan, went to DeSmet and was a year behind me. He was a big tall blonde kid who played on the basketball team. Or so we think. I don't even think he remembers if he played for the team.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Dick: There are two bands that influenced Green Day. First is--
Anna: The Clash!
Dick: Very good! And the second is this band -- Stiff Little Fingers.
-"High Fidelity"
"[Stiff Little Fingers will be] touring the US next week but skipping chicago and playing the ARMPIT of the midwest, CLEVELAND. seriously, fuck that town. talk about a shithole."
-My friend Mark
Stiff Little Fingers played at The Forum in Kentish Town on Friday night. I hadn't been a huge fan before going, but I initially went because my brother Brian and my friend Mark have both been huge fans for years. Hailing from Belfast in 1977, they are seen the Irish counterpart to The Clash and the inspiration for The Dropkick Murphys, Shane McGowan and U2.
Well, it was one of the coolest shows (and better bands) I've ever seen. I can now say I've seen an actual punk band. The only thing more genuinely punk would be, say, The Clash or The Ramones or The Dead Kennedys. Period.
Because the band was in its youth in 1977, old age and frumpy fashions have caught up with the band.
But at least the band members didn't seem to be in any sense of denial. Wish I could say the same for the fans.
A 40ish blonde woman with a short bob haircut shimmied and slipped about the beer-slicked floor in a pink Motorhead shirt, a black denim skirt, fish nets and hooker boots that would make Heidi Fleiss drop her jaw. Bumping into her was a husky 40-something showing off the effects of aging and gravity in a T-shirt-turned-tank-top. His mohawk (read: bangs with gel) was pink and red, as was his face. Two guys both wearing denim jackets, red plaid shirts and jeans crossed paths with this guy as they slid back and forth to grab girls.
Were I thinking about it at the time, I'd have gotten these guys' info, so I could land them a double date with Jackie and her mom, or maybe a Rico Suave tutoring session with Jeff "Return of The Mack" Sonderperson.
Everybody's Working For The Weekend
The weekends are a great time to explore nooks and crannies of London, experiencing neighborhoods in ways that the time constraints of the work week don't allow. The real characters come out to play on Saturday and Sunday, in the form of markets, street art and who knows what.
On a particular cobblestone stretch in Covent Garden en route to the Theatre Museum, street performers such as mimes will sit for hours, not moving at all, with the hopes that we'll walk by and drop some change in their hats. One of the performers that's usually there is a guy who wears a gold suit and paints his face gold with the features of a cat.
That guy wasn't there on Saturday, but there several similar types: a bronze guy leaning on a bronze bicycle, a golden man who talks in beeps ala R2D2, a coal black man with a face like Lyndon Johnson and a big wind-up screw in his back, and a silver woman with a wand. Additionally, there were two Asian men with mandolins and harps who played music that sounded like the theme from "Titanic" with hints of Japanese strings. Ironically enough, as I was passing through Covent Garden a few hours later, these guys were playing "My Heart Will Go On."
I told Jenn@ and M*glio that I would like to go to Covent Garden and set up a boombox playing Madonna, MJ and Duran Duran. Feeling the beat, I would promptly break out into the notorious White Boy Dance Party. Onlookers would be shocked, and they'd eithe cover their eyes or start skankin' along with the hot beats. It would be like something they've never experienced, and hopefully in the process, they'd put some coins in a hat for us. Not a bad way to make money for beer and/or Benjy's.
But of course, there had to be a snag: you need a license to be a street performer. Bastards.
You know what they say about those theatre boys
The Theatre Museum had a lot of neat trinkets in their displays, but when you try to list off any of it, it doesn't come to mind too quickly. There's a display on the Redgrave family, a make-up workshop, a costume session, a dance exhibit and a feature on how to successfully videotape a theatrical performance. I was there for about two hours and could have easily spent another hour or so, but I'm glad I left when I did, because I was getting peckish and had a headache.
"All we have to do now
Is take these eyes
And make them true
All we have to see
Is that I don't belong to you
And you don't belong to me..."
-George Michael, "Freedom"
The only thing keeping me from proposing to my tour guide at the Theatre Museum was a sense of decorum, which is funny, because there are other times when knowing how to be reserved would have really come in handy. This girl -- not too much older than me -- was wearing her golden hair in pigtails. Furthermore, she was wearing a cute orange sweater and tan cuorduroys. She had a wicked British accent, and said stuff like "grand" and "brilliant." Like I said, I would have asked for her hand in marriage, if not for the fact that this would probably freak her out. But if she reads this blog, then that worry is for naught, because now that cat is out of the bag and she knows my true feelings. I never even got her name. I'm guessing it could be something like Amanda, Laura or Catherine, or even Elspeth, but knowing my luck, she could probably really be named Quarnisha. I went to junior high school with a Quarnisha, you know.
Everybody's Working For The Weekend, pt. 2
I whirled into Hogarth 4 Saturday night, where I discovered the aforementioned ladies and Meghan S., who had all been having "Power Hour" for the last hour. With Foster's. They made a tower of 12 cans. It was rad, actually.
Anywho, after some volleying back and forth as to what the evening should hold, I suggested we go to O'Neill's in Leicester Square. There had been a fun dance night there a few months ago, where we heard great tunes from Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, Frankie Goes To Hollywood and the like. And it was free.
No such luck this time. Not only did we have to pay 4 pounds, but the music was sub par. Sure, the DJ rocked us out with some Junior Senior, to which I danced like a fiend in honor of the one and only S-Gr*bb, and some MJ, but it was just not an "on" night. Meghan, Vanessa and I were on, though, that's for sure. We danced on everything possible: tabletops, floors, other people, each other, etc.
I was off my face and out of my mind so bad that I imagined what it would be like if Reese's Peanut Butter Cups had arms and legs and thus ran tribal societies. I don't know why the presence of arms and legs should automatically lead to the concept of tribal societies, but work with me here. Perhaps they would run the Earth and then we humans would be their second class citizens. I then thought of a cheeseburger, but that's because I was hungry, so when I got back to Earl's Court around 2, I got a double cheeseburger at McDonald's.
Anna: The Clash!
Dick: Very good! And the second is this band -- Stiff Little Fingers.
-"High Fidelity"
"[Stiff Little Fingers will be] touring the US next week but skipping chicago and playing the ARMPIT of the midwest, CLEVELAND. seriously, fuck that town. talk about a shithole."
-My friend Mark
Stiff Little Fingers played at The Forum in Kentish Town on Friday night. I hadn't been a huge fan before going, but I initially went because my brother Brian and my friend Mark have both been huge fans for years. Hailing from Belfast in 1977, they are seen the Irish counterpart to The Clash and the inspiration for The Dropkick Murphys, Shane McGowan and U2.
Well, it was one of the coolest shows (and better bands) I've ever seen. I can now say I've seen an actual punk band. The only thing more genuinely punk would be, say, The Clash or The Ramones or The Dead Kennedys. Period.
Because the band was in its youth in 1977, old age and frumpy fashions have caught up with the band.
But at least the band members didn't seem to be in any sense of denial. Wish I could say the same for the fans.
A 40ish blonde woman with a short bob haircut shimmied and slipped about the beer-slicked floor in a pink Motorhead shirt, a black denim skirt, fish nets and hooker boots that would make Heidi Fleiss drop her jaw. Bumping into her was a husky 40-something showing off the effects of aging and gravity in a T-shirt-turned-tank-top. His mohawk (read: bangs with gel) was pink and red, as was his face. Two guys both wearing denim jackets, red plaid shirts and jeans crossed paths with this guy as they slid back and forth to grab girls.
Were I thinking about it at the time, I'd have gotten these guys' info, so I could land them a double date with Jackie and her mom, or maybe a Rico Suave tutoring session with Jeff "Return of The Mack" Sonderperson.
The weekends are a great time to explore nooks and crannies of London, experiencing neighborhoods in ways that the time constraints of the work week don't allow. The real characters come out to play on Saturday and Sunday, in the form of markets, street art and who knows what.
On a particular cobblestone stretch in Covent Garden en route to the Theatre Museum, street performers such as mimes will sit for hours, not moving at all, with the hopes that we'll walk by and drop some change in their hats. One of the performers that's usually there is a guy who wears a gold suit and paints his face gold with the features of a cat.
That guy wasn't there on Saturday, but there several similar types: a bronze guy leaning on a bronze bicycle, a golden man who talks in beeps ala R2D2, a coal black man with a face like Lyndon Johnson and a big wind-up screw in his back, and a silver woman with a wand. Additionally, there were two Asian men with mandolins and harps who played music that sounded like the theme from "Titanic" with hints of Japanese strings. Ironically enough, as I was passing through Covent Garden a few hours later, these guys were playing "My Heart Will Go On."
I told Jenn@ and M*glio that I would like to go to Covent Garden and set up a boombox playing Madonna, MJ and Duran Duran. Feeling the beat, I would promptly break out into the notorious White Boy Dance Party. Onlookers would be shocked, and they'd eithe cover their eyes or start skankin' along with the hot beats. It would be like something they've never experienced, and hopefully in the process, they'd put some coins in a hat for us. Not a bad way to make money for beer and/or Benjy's.
But of course, there had to be a snag: you need a license to be a street performer. Bastards.
The Theatre Museum had a lot of neat trinkets in their displays, but when you try to list off any of it, it doesn't come to mind too quickly. There's a display on the Redgrave family, a make-up workshop, a costume session, a dance exhibit and a feature on how to successfully videotape a theatrical performance. I was there for about two hours and could have easily spent another hour or so, but I'm glad I left when I did, because I was getting peckish and had a headache.
"All we have to do now
Is take these eyes
And make them true
All we have to see
Is that I don't belong to you
And you don't belong to me..."
-George Michael, "Freedom"
The only thing keeping me from proposing to my tour guide at the Theatre Museum was a sense of decorum, which is funny, because there are other times when knowing how to be reserved would have really come in handy. This girl -- not too much older than me -- was wearing her golden hair in pigtails. Furthermore, she was wearing a cute orange sweater and tan cuorduroys. She had a wicked British accent, and said stuff like "grand" and "brilliant." Like I said, I would have asked for her hand in marriage, if not for the fact that this would probably freak her out. But if she reads this blog, then that worry is for naught, because now that cat is out of the bag and she knows my true feelings. I never even got her name. I'm guessing it could be something like Amanda, Laura or Catherine, or even Elspeth, but knowing my luck, she could probably really be named Quarnisha. I went to junior high school with a Quarnisha, you know.
I whirled into Hogarth 4 Saturday night, where I discovered the aforementioned ladies and Meghan S., who had all been having "Power Hour" for the last hour. With Foster's. They made a tower of 12 cans. It was rad, actually.
Anywho, after some volleying back and forth as to what the evening should hold, I suggested we go to O'Neill's in Leicester Square. There had been a fun dance night there a few months ago, where we heard great tunes from Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, Frankie Goes To Hollywood and the like. And it was free.
No such luck this time. Not only did we have to pay 4 pounds, but the music was sub par. Sure, the DJ rocked us out with some Junior Senior, to which I danced like a fiend in honor of the one and only S-Gr*bb, and some MJ, but it was just not an "on" night. Meghan, Vanessa and I were on, though, that's for sure. We danced on everything possible: tabletops, floors, other people, each other, etc.
I was off my face and out of my mind so bad that I imagined what it would be like if Reese's Peanut Butter Cups had arms and legs and thus ran tribal societies. I don't know why the presence of arms and legs should automatically lead to the concept of tribal societies, but work with me here. Perhaps they would run the Earth and then we humans would be their second class citizens. I then thought of a cheeseburger, but that's because I was hungry, so when I got back to Earl's Court around 2, I got a double cheeseburger at McDonald's.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
I had let you all in on the fact that Peter and Iain took Harper and me out three times in one day two weeks ago, including a nice Italian restaurant, Peter's house and train set, and a club where I busted out the White Boy Dance Party and talked with Iain about his pending children's book.
Well, the family that is LondonNet had more shenanigans this week, sans Harper, though, because she's got people visiting.
Marcella, one of our great admins, is returning home to the Czech Republic next week, and so last night, we met at Peter's to have her going away party. There was curry, port, wine, chocolate and some of the best vodka ever.
It soon became pumpkin time, and Iain and I had to book it to catch a train so we could catch the tube. Peter lives in Zone 4, and so we had a journey ahead of us.
We were thinking we'd catch a train at either :43 or :58, but when we got there at :52 we learned that the next one would be at :13. Iain was pissed, and called the National Rail Service to tell them so. He stopped being pissed when he realized he had misheard :48 for :58.
Waiting the 20 minutes had to wait for the train, we decided to hit the nearest pub, and that's when Iain and I started playing the game of comparing the prices here and the prices in the states.
What a fun, depressing game.
I said that as soon as I return to the states, I'll convert all the U.S. prices to pounds and then e-mail Iain and Peter with them.
Here's some of them, but in dollars for you Yanks.
Coffee:
London: $3.40
Artisan: $1.00
Movie:
CoMo: $6.00
London: $16.00
CDs:
Target: $13.00
London: $20-$22
P.S. PMG returns to the land of affordable things on April 25. Well, Chicago, but then STL. Tune in for dates on the PMG Victory Tour Dates for CoMoSexual.
So, last week I came home from class and had a letter with my sister's handwriting on it. I opened it up, and there was a picture drawn by Michael. That's it. No note. Just the picture. I thought it was so cool. I took it around to show everyone. Jen couldn't tell what it was, but Kristene knew it was a trash truck, and she could even identify the sweeper on it.
Well, this week I came home from class, and there were TWO pieces of mail with Kerry's handwriting on it. There was an envelope with a picture of Michael wearing his new glasses, and might I say, he's a cutey; he takes after his youngest uncle. Also in said envelope was a picture drawn by Michael himself. It was a piece of pepperoni pizza. There were nine pepperoni slices on this piece of pizza, and the background was orange. Definitely what you'd call modern, like Warhol or maybe even Gogh ala the sunflower pictures. Maybe a candidate for Tate Modern or even National Gallery, but for now, Uncle Patrick's dresser makes a fine place to showcase this art.
But there was more! I also got a postcard from Kerry! It told of the adventure that was getting Michael registered for kindergarten. The little shaver will be in kindergarten. Makes me feel old. I was 17 and a junior in high school when he was born, and now I'm almost 23 and on my way to my first "real" job. Mark McGwire hit #60 the day Michael was born, and now Big Mac might as well be 60.
Oi.
Anywho, you can tell I'm quite the doting uncle. If he were here, I'd spoil him rotten, but I think everyone else does a good job of that in Missouri and Chicago.
This seems like a great time to kick off the list of things that have made me happy lately, and there have been a golconda of them. Here goes.
White Boy Blog Party favors
*Michael's art.
*Michael's specs.
*The possibility that I won't be lonely this summer in NY.
*A care package for me and EZP from Erica, complete with chocolate Easter bunnies, a saucy postcard and a St. Patrick's/Easter card.
*A card from Hilary.
*A note from Protz, written on a Missourian copy desk log!
*Talking to Erica for an hour plus, during which time she referred to the phallic nature of Big Ben.
*My mom's e-mails in which she says, "Yo Mama!"
*Hanging out with my god-sister and her husband.
*Having the best fish and chips ever at a swanky restaurant near King's Cross/St. Pancras.
*Frank calling it St. Pancreas.
*Getting my scrapbooks from my mom via Mama B.
*Finding out that my third scrapbook might not be lost, afterall.
*Hearing Junior Senior on XFM.
*The Scissor Sisters' album.
*Snow Patrol's "Spitting Games."
*Peanut butter candy.
*Friendster messages from people from junior high.
*A message from Natalee.
*The girls of Hogarth flat 4.
*My dad's comments on the St. Patrick's pictures of Harper and me.
*Harper's iPod, complete with Madonna and Abba Teens.
*Watching "Win A Date With Tad Hamilton!" with M*glio.
*Janelle's e-mails.
*F*scus' blog.
*Jackie's e-mails about bishops, school buses and beavers.
*Vanessa Feltz's radio show on the BBC. (Forgive me, Iain).
*Iain's comments on the British media.
*Trying curry for the first time.
*Making fun of the British pronunciation of Harper ("Hah-pah").
*Having to pay nada for alcohol in a two-week period.
*Warm weather.
*A foreign thing called the sun.
*Knowing that I'll see you all again in a month.
*Knowing that I still get a whole month to explore this great little planet called London.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
From http://www.colorquiz.com:
Your Existing Situation
Unwilling to extend himself or exert undue effort (with the possible exception of sexual activity). Feels that further progress requires more from him than he is willing or able to give. Would prefer reasonable comfort and security rather than the rewards of greater ambition.
Your Stress Sources
Feels that life has far more to offer and that there are still important things to be achieved--that life must be experienced to the fullest. As a result, he pursues his objectives with a fierce intensity that will not let go of things.
Becomes deeply involved and runs the risk of being unable to view things with sufficient objectivity, or calmly enough; is therefore in danger of becoming agitated and of exhausting his nervous energy. Cannot leave things alone and feels he can only be at peace when he has finally reached his goal.
Your Restrained Characteristics
The situation is preventing him from establishing himself, but he feels he must make the best of things as they are.
Insists that his hopes and ideas are realistic, but need reassurance and encouragement. Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.
Feels that things stand in his way, that circumstances are forcing him to compromise and forgo some pleasures for the time being.
Your Desired Objective
Seeks affectionate, satisfying and harmonious relationships. Desires an intimate union, in which there is a love, self-sacrifice and mutual trust.
Your Actual Problem
Needs to achieve a stable and peaceful condition, enabling him to free himself of the worry that he may be prevented from achieving all the things he wants.
Your Existing Situation
Unwilling to extend himself or exert undue effort (with the possible exception of sexual activity). Feels that further progress requires more from him than he is willing or able to give. Would prefer reasonable comfort and security rather than the rewards of greater ambition.
Your Stress Sources
Feels that life has far more to offer and that there are still important things to be achieved--that life must be experienced to the fullest. As a result, he pursues his objectives with a fierce intensity that will not let go of things.
Becomes deeply involved and runs the risk of being unable to view things with sufficient objectivity, or calmly enough; is therefore in danger of becoming agitated and of exhausting his nervous energy. Cannot leave things alone and feels he can only be at peace when he has finally reached his goal.
Your Restrained Characteristics
The situation is preventing him from establishing himself, but he feels he must make the best of things as they are.
Insists that his hopes and ideas are realistic, but need reassurance and encouragement. Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.
Feels that things stand in his way, that circumstances are forcing him to compromise and forgo some pleasures for the time being.
Your Desired Objective
Seeks affectionate, satisfying and harmonious relationships. Desires an intimate union, in which there is a love, self-sacrifice and mutual trust.
Your Actual Problem
Needs to achieve a stable and peaceful condition, enabling him to free himself of the worry that he may be prevented from achieving all the things he wants.
Monday, March 22, 2004
-Katy, on the student who wrote the now infamous MU Student News story
Ash put the following on her blog, but I felt like I had to as well. I added links for things you should find funny.
(1) you've ever spent a Saturday afternoon watching RHEN TV.
(2) you've ever seen/wondered what goes on in the dome of Jesse Hall.
(3) you know that everything at Dobbs tastes better with Ranch.
(4) you've made late night purchases at Hitt Street.
(5) you've ordered Pokey Sticks after a night out at Fieldhouse or the Vu.
(6) Truman is more than just a former US president.
(7) you've tasted Tiger Stripe ice cream.
(8) you've drank beer out of a can at Black and Gold.
(9) you know how to respond when someone says "M-I-Z".
(10) you know a FIG is more than a newton.
(11) (FOR GREEKS) you've stolen a composite or had your composite stolen.
(12) you've sat on a bench with Beetle Bailey. (or maybe made out there)
(13) you've student charged a CD, lamp, toilet paper, sweatshirt, etc.
with your "book" money.
(14) the possibility of your children going to KU is out of the question.
(15) you've spent a fall football Saturday at Harpo's.
(16) you've used a fake ID at George's or at The Vu.
(17) (FOR GREEKS) you've ever been to a fraternity/sorority function at the Lake.
(18) you know what the term "house decs" means.
(19) you've ever heard/told a story about the various haunted buildings on campus.
(20) you've experienced Penny Pitchers and Quarter Draws.
(21) (FOR FEMALE GREEKS) you've ever sung a sidewalk song.
(22) you've skipped class on a nice day to run/walk on the K.T. Trail
(23) you have memories (fond or otherwise) of the Campus Inn.
(24) you understand the phrase "face time."
(25) you're not thrown off when people ask where you went to High School.
(26) (FOR OUT-OF-STATERS) you've ever been asked if you went to Mizzou for Journalism.
(27) you've had the Stretch at The Diner.
(28) you're familiar with the singing cowboy on the corner of Broadway and Providence.
(29) you occasionally find yourself craving a drink from Trops.
(30) you're the most intelligent person in your office.
Friday, March 19, 2004
I e-mailed my god-sister Kelly last week because I hadn't talked to her since her sister (the god-sister who lives in North St. Louis) got married. Kelly e-mailed me back in just a few hours and said that she and her husband Frank would be in town to celebrate their 10th anniversary. A few days of e-mail tag later and poof-- they're here!
She had asked if I wanted anything from the states, and in jest, I said, "Peanut butter candy and a newspaper that doesn't have naked girls or blatant bias in it." Thus, when I met up with them Thursday at the Millennium Hotel, they handed me a bag full of Reese's Pieces, Reese's Cups, Easter Bunnies and tons of other goodies. And a Washington Post. God love fictive family members from D.C. Amen.
We went to this pub that Kelly had said got good reviews on some website. I hadn't heard of it, but then again, there are tons of places in London I haven't heard of, and this is a big town. We split a bottle of wine, because there will always be something scandalous for them to buy me alcohol, considering I've known Kelly since I was in diapers and Frank since I was 10. Anywho, we didn't get food, because I was supposed to meet Caroline at Charing Cross at 6:45. Thus, we just had wine. And beer.
I finally left the pub at 7 at Kelly's urging.
"You have to go!"
Yeah, but I was drunk, and I had my Reese's, and my Washington Post!
"Patrick G@rvin, you are going to be late!"
Okay, let's go!
Time I was supposed to meet Caroline -- 6:45 p.m.
Time I got to Charing Cross tube station -- 7:26 p.m.
As you'd expect, she was no longer there, so I went to the play myself. It was "Calico," about the dysfunctional family life and sex habits of James Joyce's family, set in Paris in 1928. His daughter was a budding nymph at 15, but had the social graces of the band camp girl from "American Pie." His son was a boring sod who was having sex with a woman 10 years his senior, and Joyce's wife was not really his wife at all, as they had never officially gotten married.
It was at this point of the play that the first act ended. I was on a sugar high and starting to get a headache because I was buzzed on an empty stomach. I had opened the Reese's Pieces, but as I moved my bag onto the floor, half of them spilled out and I had to pick them up so that the old people next to me wouldn't trip and break their necks.
Feeling woozy and also guilty from having gotten to Charing Cross too late to meet Caroline, I decided to kabosh the rest of the play and just go home. On the tube ride, I wrote a song of apology to Caroline in the style of Duran Duran. It was complete with call and response sections and overlaps. Too bad Caroline wasn't there when I got home, but it did mean I could go out on the town on Earl's Court Road with Becca L.
I didn't mind seeing only half the play, because it really didn't say anything earth-shattering. James Joyce not sexually pure? Shocking! Couldn't have seen that coming, what with his autobiography outlining that he lost his V-card to a hooker.
Answers to the funny sentences in my inbox
Speaking of V-cards and hookers, here are the culprits behind those sentences I posted last week. This is late, and I doubt too many people would be overly enthralled, except that one of these sentences comes from Broseph.
1. the man with three first names & an accent that made panties fall completely off. Wonder if he likes shrimp?
Jackie
2. This amazingly obese black man just walked into the computer lab in Memorial Union, where I scribe most of my e-mails. This guy had on this most ridiculous bling I've ever seen! It was nothing but a huge gold chain with the word "Large" dangling procariously in his midsection. This coupled with his gold-plated shades and a fat man's pimp walk makes him easily the most desirable man in the room.
Hilary
3. You are correct: figuring things out is really just realizing you don't know shit. hang on to your ass with both hands little squirrel.
Jackie
4. meanwhile, what business does bandcamp girl have being in when harry met sally, anyhow? i hope she doesn't take the flute to billy crystal. or luke perry, depending on what country you're in.
Goodlovin'
5. They tried to keep me out cuz I had Timbs on, but I was like fuck you I'm comin in the club.
Derek
6. So I am super excited to be writing this e-mail to you because I am sitting next to the ellusive transvestite I always see in the Memorial Union computer lab. I don't even know how to describe her -- she's the most manly man I've ever seen, yet with an old school Meg Ryan bangs 'n bob haircut and pink nails. The first time I saw her she was looking at straight porn out in the open in this very computer lab. I guess IATS also stands for Internet Access for Trannies and Sluts.
Hilary
7. Sure he hunts & rides 4-wheelers ... but strangley enough there are no rebel flags hanging as drapes at his house
Jackie
8. the wedding operation is definitely underway. She reportedly got a ring with a huge rock, "worth more than my truck," she happily reported.
My brother, on my sister's neighbor
9. I don't think anyone will match your level of loudness. I hope not. Not that we don't miss you.
Curt W.
10. what do people over there think about our democrats? do they even care? and do they really boil all their meat?
Goodlovin'
11. What is this world coming to when I miss the average semi-appeal of MU frat boys?
Fisc*s
12. What's been going on with you, pimp-a-licious? Getting down with dem hos, I hope.
Broseph
13. I usually only check my email while I'm SUPPOSED to be working. you know how that goes? sure you do. I remeber "pretending" to work with you on many occasions.
Jackie
14. This weekend probably isn't too good for bumpin' my uglies, I am off to Durham for a night of drinking and debauchery with my Nottingham boys on Saturday.
Becca L.
15. Have you been kissing British girls/boys? Just remember they are all crazy-[Name of e-mailer's ex].
Gillian, my former roommate
16. Several friends and I went to this bar called "North," which is this area called "La Encantada." La Encatada means "really well dressed people and way overpriced drinks" in Spanish.
Erin
17. On Friday, old roomies let me finish off a bottle of strawberry wine (!) while watching "First Wives Club." I am a gay man.
Hilary
18. but enough about me and whoever it is I left at home, tied to my bedpost with my panties shoved in his mouth.... WHO is tied to your bedpost? Did you gag them? It's always a good idea ... i hate it when they alarm the neighbors with their screams.
Jackie
19. VH1 has this new show, Best Week Ever, which is basically just I Love the '70s/'80s, only for the past week. It's basically just a rehash of all the conversations I have during the week with my j-school friends about current events, only on TV. Or, our blogs come to life. With semi-famous people.
Fisc*s
20. No, they are not nearly the dancing queens you all were. But they're fun in their own way. Actually, they seem to be taking everything a bit more seriously than you all did. Can't imagine why.
ReuStar
21. i never realized george washington likes teal dining rooms. he never would have made it on trading spaces.
Goodlovin'
22. What ya doing by a computer.........you should be in a boozer with the Sweeny, drinking scotch and sniffing out stories about blaggers from Sarth London. Mate, you just ain't gonna make it as a hard nosed hack.
Iain, my colleague at LondonNet
23. It's starting to feel like spring and it's become hard for me to seperate the nice weather from the upcoming May 2004 graduation. So exciting. I need to buy the cutest dress ever so I'll look amazing in everyone's pictures. I'm always thinking.
Hilary
24. Then I went upstairs and laid in bed and I started to build these stories about the two of them in my mind. For example. When I went into the basement I noticed Mary Janes shoe rack on the door. The only shoes that I noticed were red heels with a zipper up the back. HOOKER! Then I put the shoes and Mary Janes long bleach blond hair together and came up with the idea that Mary Jane is an escort and Tim is a drug dealer and they just live together to make their parents, and everyone else, think that they are a normal couple with normal jobs. I'm crazy. Give me a real story to think about so I don't have to keep making up things in my mind!
Mary, my former roommate
25. Loved your blog entry today! You are the bomb. Cheers!
My mom
"Don't say you're easy on me
You're about as easy as a nuclear war..."
-Duran Duran, "Is There Something I Should Know?"
Becca L. is the shit, because she has let me borrow her Duran Duran Greatest Hits CD. It is awesome, but I don't need to tell you that, because you are most likely wise enough to know that Duran Duran is, indeed, the shit. Whether you are Shaffer, dishwata or ReuStar, or someone else, you should know this. Real talk. On me.
And yet Ben, the guy down the hall, has no idea who Duran Duran is. This is not any slam against Duran Duran, though, for this is the same guy who went into the phone booths to get the phone sex ads to put on his door.
So, anywho, this CD is the shit. Let me tell you how it rawks out like a hoosier at the county fair. It kicks off the party with "Is There Something I Should Know?" and then goes into the Club GraffiXXXXXXX anthem, "The Reflex." Each track is a dance party all its own.
Thus, Becca L. is the shit. And Ben is just a shit.
She had asked if I wanted anything from the states, and in jest, I said, "Peanut butter candy and a newspaper that doesn't have naked girls or blatant bias in it." Thus, when I met up with them Thursday at the Millennium Hotel, they handed me a bag full of Reese's Pieces, Reese's Cups, Easter Bunnies and tons of other goodies. And a Washington Post. God love fictive family members from D.C. Amen.
We went to this pub that Kelly had said got good reviews on some website. I hadn't heard of it, but then again, there are tons of places in London I haven't heard of, and this is a big town. We split a bottle of wine, because there will always be something scandalous for them to buy me alcohol, considering I've known Kelly since I was in diapers and Frank since I was 10. Anywho, we didn't get food, because I was supposed to meet Caroline at Charing Cross at 6:45. Thus, we just had wine. And beer.
I finally left the pub at 7 at Kelly's urging.
"You have to go!"
Yeah, but I was drunk, and I had my Reese's, and my Washington Post!
"Patrick G@rvin, you are going to be late!"
Okay, let's go!
Time I was supposed to meet Caroline -- 6:45 p.m.
Time I got to Charing Cross tube station -- 7:26 p.m.
As you'd expect, she was no longer there, so I went to the play myself. It was "Calico," about the dysfunctional family life and sex habits of James Joyce's family, set in Paris in 1928. His daughter was a budding nymph at 15, but had the social graces of the band camp girl from "American Pie." His son was a boring sod who was having sex with a woman 10 years his senior, and Joyce's wife was not really his wife at all, as they had never officially gotten married.
It was at this point of the play that the first act ended. I was on a sugar high and starting to get a headache because I was buzzed on an empty stomach. I had opened the Reese's Pieces, but as I moved my bag onto the floor, half of them spilled out and I had to pick them up so that the old people next to me wouldn't trip and break their necks.
Feeling woozy and also guilty from having gotten to Charing Cross too late to meet Caroline, I decided to kabosh the rest of the play and just go home. On the tube ride, I wrote a song of apology to Caroline in the style of Duran Duran. It was complete with call and response sections and overlaps. Too bad Caroline wasn't there when I got home, but it did mean I could go out on the town on Earl's Court Road with Becca L.
I didn't mind seeing only half the play, because it really didn't say anything earth-shattering. James Joyce not sexually pure? Shocking! Couldn't have seen that coming, what with his autobiography outlining that he lost his V-card to a hooker.
Speaking of V-cards and hookers, here are the culprits behind those sentences I posted last week. This is late, and I doubt too many people would be overly enthralled, except that one of these sentences comes from Broseph.
1. the man with three first names & an accent that made panties fall completely off. Wonder if he likes shrimp?
Jackie
2. This amazingly obese black man just walked into the computer lab in Memorial Union, where I scribe most of my e-mails. This guy had on this most ridiculous bling I've ever seen! It was nothing but a huge gold chain with the word "Large" dangling procariously in his midsection. This coupled with his gold-plated shades and a fat man's pimp walk makes him easily the most desirable man in the room.
Hilary
3. You are correct: figuring things out is really just realizing you don't know shit. hang on to your ass with both hands little squirrel.
Jackie
4. meanwhile, what business does bandcamp girl have being in when harry met sally, anyhow? i hope she doesn't take the flute to billy crystal. or luke perry, depending on what country you're in.
Goodlovin'
5. They tried to keep me out cuz I had Timbs on, but I was like fuck you I'm comin in the club.
Derek
6. So I am super excited to be writing this e-mail to you because I am sitting next to the ellusive transvestite I always see in the Memorial Union computer lab. I don't even know how to describe her -- she's the most manly man I've ever seen, yet with an old school Meg Ryan bangs 'n bob haircut and pink nails. The first time I saw her she was looking at straight porn out in the open in this very computer lab. I guess IATS also stands for Internet Access for Trannies and Sluts.
Hilary
7. Sure he hunts & rides 4-wheelers ... but strangley enough there are no rebel flags hanging as drapes at his house
Jackie
8. the wedding operation is definitely underway. She reportedly got a ring with a huge rock, "worth more than my truck," she happily reported.
My brother, on my sister's neighbor
9. I don't think anyone will match your level of loudness. I hope not. Not that we don't miss you.
Curt W.
10. what do people over there think about our democrats? do they even care? and do they really boil all their meat?
Goodlovin'
11. What is this world coming to when I miss the average semi-appeal of MU frat boys?
Fisc*s
12. What's been going on with you, pimp-a-licious? Getting down with dem hos, I hope.
Broseph
13. I usually only check my email while I'm SUPPOSED to be working. you know how that goes? sure you do. I remeber "pretending" to work with you on many occasions.
Jackie
14. This weekend probably isn't too good for bumpin' my uglies, I am off to Durham for a night of drinking and debauchery with my Nottingham boys on Saturday.
Becca L.
15. Have you been kissing British girls/boys? Just remember they are all crazy-[Name of e-mailer's ex].
Gillian, my former roommate
16. Several friends and I went to this bar called "North," which is this area called "La Encantada." La Encatada means "really well dressed people and way overpriced drinks" in Spanish.
Erin
17. On Friday, old roomies let me finish off a bottle of strawberry wine (!) while watching "First Wives Club." I am a gay man.
Hilary
18. but enough about me and whoever it is I left at home, tied to my bedpost with my panties shoved in his mouth.... WHO is tied to your bedpost? Did you gag them? It's always a good idea ... i hate it when they alarm the neighbors with their screams.
Jackie
19. VH1 has this new show, Best Week Ever, which is basically just I Love the '70s/'80s, only for the past week. It's basically just a rehash of all the conversations I have during the week with my j-school friends about current events, only on TV. Or, our blogs come to life. With semi-famous people.
Fisc*s
20. No, they are not nearly the dancing queens you all were. But they're fun in their own way. Actually, they seem to be taking everything a bit more seriously than you all did. Can't imagine why.
ReuStar
21. i never realized george washington likes teal dining rooms. he never would have made it on trading spaces.
Goodlovin'
22. What ya doing by a computer.........you should be in a boozer with the Sweeny, drinking scotch and sniffing out stories about blaggers from Sarth London. Mate, you just ain't gonna make it as a hard nosed hack.
Iain, my colleague at LondonNet
23. It's starting to feel like spring and it's become hard for me to seperate the nice weather from the upcoming May 2004 graduation. So exciting. I need to buy the cutest dress ever so I'll look amazing in everyone's pictures. I'm always thinking.
Hilary
24. Then I went upstairs and laid in bed and I started to build these stories about the two of them in my mind. For example. When I went into the basement I noticed Mary Janes shoe rack on the door. The only shoes that I noticed were red heels with a zipper up the back. HOOKER! Then I put the shoes and Mary Janes long bleach blond hair together and came up with the idea that Mary Jane is an escort and Tim is a drug dealer and they just live together to make their parents, and everyone else, think that they are a normal couple with normal jobs. I'm crazy. Give me a real story to think about so I don't have to keep making up things in my mind!
Mary, my former roommate
25. Loved your blog entry today! You are the bomb. Cheers!
My mom
"Don't say you're easy on me
You're about as easy as a nuclear war..."
-Duran Duran, "Is There Something I Should Know?"
Becca L. is the shit, because she has let me borrow her Duran Duran Greatest Hits CD. It is awesome, but I don't need to tell you that, because you are most likely wise enough to know that Duran Duran is, indeed, the shit. Whether you are Shaffer, dishwata or ReuStar, or someone else, you should know this. Real talk. On me.
And yet Ben, the guy down the hall, has no idea who Duran Duran is. This is not any slam against Duran Duran, though, for this is the same guy who went into the phone booths to get the phone sex ads to put on his door.
So, anywho, this CD is the shit. Let me tell you how it rawks out like a hoosier at the county fair. It kicks off the party with "Is There Something I Should Know?" and then goes into the Club GraffiXXXXXXX anthem, "The Reflex." Each track is a dance party all its own.
Thus, Becca L. is the shit. And Ben is just a shit.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Mama B (the aforementioned co-worker of my mom and the mom of friends Paula and Tracy, whom she will not allow to dress like hooches) landed in London this weekend. She came bearing gifts, most notably my scrapbooks and my two favorite shirts: my Bob Gibson Cardinals T-shirt I got from Derek, and my red Eddie Bauer T-shirt. I was so excited to have my Cardinals shirt that I changed into it right away. I then proceeded to go to all the flats in Knaresborough to show off my lucky shirt. Lauren's boyfriend had sent her some Mickey Mouse ears, and in the midst of my sugar high, I decided to wear said ears. Wearing Mickey Mouse ears and my Cardinals shirt made me look like Joe American, but that's okay, because I'm not banging on any doors to look like a Brit. I will feel okay not having a mullet, and I know yellow is in and all, but I do value my teeth. So if the Brits accuse me of sticking to my own kind, they can know why.
For dinner, Mama B took me and Tracy out to dinner to this Italian place where we all split a pizza, some pasta and bruschetta. Tracy and I had wine; Barb had beer. After that, Miget, Ali and Mack called Tracy's cell phone, so we met up with them and Ali's friend, Tony, visiting from Iowa. We were at O'Neill's, an Irish-style pub down the road from us. Barb won them over with her colorful observations straight-away ("I will not have a hooch for a daughter"), and then she bought a pitcher for the table. Tony followed suit, and so Miget and I were soon wasted. We kept laughing because not only was this a friend's mom, but this was a friend of my mom, as well as a co-worker of my mom. It was all surreal. I've known this woman since I was 18.
"Don't pee your pants," she'd tell me when I'd stumble to the bathroom. "I will not have a pants-peer for a surrogate son."
I told her that I sometimes referred to Ali as "Ali-whacker," because it sounds like "tally-whacker," and that seems more than appropriate for a foul-mouthed girl like Ali. Mama B then called Ali "tally-whacker" all night, and would sometimes throw in spanking hand motions and say, "Whack that tally! Spank it!"
Nelly's "Hot In Herre" came on, and Mama B kept screaming, "Take off all your clothes! Take off all your clothes!" We would laugh at her, but she'd just keep looking at Tony.
"Come on, Tony! Take off all your clothes!"
When I parted ways with them a little after 11, they were all going to this dance club in Piccadilly Circus. Including Mama B. Hell, she was the one leading the group. Of course, Tracy was all sorts of embarrassed.
The night before, I had gone out with the girls of Hogarth 2 and 4 to celebrate Erin's 21st birthday. She did all 21 shots, too, a big feat for anyone, especially someone so small as Erin. I was fine with the booze I had.
We were at the Rainforest Cafe. It had felt like we were in a rainforest before even going in, because we walked there in the rain in the most roundabout way we could go. By the time we got there, I think we would have settled on any club that was dry and heated. We could have stopped at Good Burger and still been happy. Mmmmm, Good Burger.
So we go in and walk to the basement. I've never been to a Rainforest Cafe, but I was told this place took the cake in terms of all the franchises. There were big-ass palm trees everywhere, such that there was no ceiling, but just a foliage of green leafy things. In the pseudo-forests were mechanical apes that would come to life and move when you'd walk by. Jenny and I nearly shat ourselves each time, and we'd have to cling to each other to walk by them.
It was hip-hop night at this club that night, but unlike other hip-hop nights I've been to in London, this club had actual black people. I was impressed. It made me feel like I was at home. It feels weird to say it, but I'm in a big cosmopolitan city yet I don't see too many black people. But at this club, we had a surplus of like four black people for every whitey. And with Erin and Vanessa as our queens that night, it was only appropriate.
I still had my sore throat this morning, but I'm used to that. But when I took my pill this morning, I think it went down the wrong pipe and I ended up having heartburn something terrible.
And yet, I felt the need to trek in to work. Before I got there, though, I had to stop in the bathroom of the Wimbledon station. And then when I got on the train to Raynes Park, a deaf girl was looking at me funny.
I hate being sick.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
NOTE:
I am at an Internet Cafe at 1 p.m. on Saturday because:
1) I am getting stuff in order for when Becca (L*ver*dge) and I go to Italy
2) Looking up stuff for if/when I go to Spain
3) E-mailing my mom for her birthday tomorrow!
The rest of you are more than welcome to follow suit on item #3. Just leave a comment or send me an e-mail, and I'll e-mail you my mom's address. I won't post it on here, because I think the perverts who access my site might e-mail her and well, I wouldn't hear the end of it. The only perverts she needs e-mailing her are me and my brothers.
Even if you've never met her, you can still rest assured knowing she's a cool chick. She likes her book club, Harry Potter, "The Red Tent," "Poisonwood Bible," Barbara Kingsolver, "DaVinci Code," "Lovely Bones," "Girl With A Pearl Earring" (book more than the movie), Rosaries, psychology, stuff about the brain and going on walks in parks.
Just don't mention anything about hetero-flexibility (ahem).
But anything after that is game.
In other news
*It's been kind of a blah week for various reasons.
*Thus, I'll finish all the Ireland postings on this blog and London Calling by next week. I promise.
*"The Skin of Our Teeth" was one of the weirdest shows I've ever seen, and Miget and I were ready to walk out multiple times. I'm all for weird plays, but this was just awkward weird. And that's a lot for me to say I felt awkward about a play. I can sit there and watch women on stage mention every vulgar name for their privates, and not feel a thing, and yet if an actress breaks character and apologizes to the audience for why the performance sucks, I'll feel weird. Granted, those breakings of character are all scripted in, but still...
*Tracy's mom should now be in town, but I haven't seen her yet.
*My nephew was supposed to get glasses this week. Not sure if that happened.
Reasons to be Cheerful: 1, 2 and 3!
(or, Things That Have Made Me Smile, or Things that have kept the White Boy Blog Party Rollin')
*Hilary's mom e-mailed me.
*My god-sister Kelly and her husband Frank come in on Wednesday -- St. Patrick's Day. This is not the god-sister who lives in North St. Louis with her husband, that's Courtney and Dan, but Courtney and Kelly are sisters.
*My bosses took me and Harper out for drinks this week. Three times. All on the SAME DAY.
*Having friends tell me I'm doing the right things with my life.
*E-mail tag with Erin, Miget and Anne.
*Discovering Jackie's old "yo mama" jokes.
*Fleetwood Mac's "The Dance."
*Liz Phair's sex advice column(s) on Nerve.com
*The old lady whose van comes to my work every day to sell us bacon sandwiches, pot pies, chocolate bars, chips and soda.
*Vanessa and I dancing like freaks at the Rainforest Cafe.
*Ian Dury and The Blockheads.
Okay, that's my peace. More later, yos.
I am at an Internet Cafe at 1 p.m. on Saturday because:
1) I am getting stuff in order for when Becca (L*ver*dge) and I go to Italy
2) Looking up stuff for if/when I go to Spain
3) E-mailing my mom for her birthday tomorrow!
The rest of you are more than welcome to follow suit on item #3. Just leave a comment or send me an e-mail, and I'll e-mail you my mom's address. I won't post it on here, because I think the perverts who access my site might e-mail her and well, I wouldn't hear the end of it. The only perverts she needs e-mailing her are me and my brothers.
Even if you've never met her, you can still rest assured knowing she's a cool chick. She likes her book club, Harry Potter, "The Red Tent," "Poisonwood Bible," Barbara Kingsolver, "DaVinci Code," "Lovely Bones," "Girl With A Pearl Earring" (book more than the movie), Rosaries, psychology, stuff about the brain and going on walks in parks.
Just don't mention anything about hetero-flexibility (ahem).
But anything after that is game.
In other news
*It's been kind of a blah week for various reasons.
*Thus, I'll finish all the Ireland postings on this blog and London Calling by next week. I promise.
*"The Skin of Our Teeth" was one of the weirdest shows I've ever seen, and Miget and I were ready to walk out multiple times. I'm all for weird plays, but this was just awkward weird. And that's a lot for me to say I felt awkward about a play. I can sit there and watch women on stage mention every vulgar name for their privates, and not feel a thing, and yet if an actress breaks character and apologizes to the audience for why the performance sucks, I'll feel weird. Granted, those breakings of character are all scripted in, but still...
*Tracy's mom should now be in town, but I haven't seen her yet.
*My nephew was supposed to get glasses this week. Not sure if that happened.
Reasons to be Cheerful: 1, 2 and 3!
(or, Things That Have Made Me Smile, or Things that have kept the White Boy Blog Party Rollin')
*Hilary's mom e-mailed me.
*My god-sister Kelly and her husband Frank come in on Wednesday -- St. Patrick's Day. This is not the god-sister who lives in North St. Louis with her husband, that's Courtney and Dan, but Courtney and Kelly are sisters.
*My bosses took me and Harper out for drinks this week. Three times. All on the SAME DAY.
*Having friends tell me I'm doing the right things with my life.
*E-mail tag with Erin, Miget and Anne.
*Discovering Jackie's old "yo mama" jokes.
*Fleetwood Mac's "The Dance."
*Liz Phair's sex advice column(s) on Nerve.com
*The old lady whose van comes to my work every day to sell us bacon sandwiches, pot pies, chocolate bars, chips and soda.
*Vanessa and I dancing like freaks at the Rainforest Cafe.
*Ian Dury and The Blockheads.
Okay, that's my peace. More later, yos.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Happy Birthday, Sonderperson!
With a look like that, who needs strangers in trenchcoats? I know I sure don't. I'd sooner take a piece of candy from one of those guys than I would from Jeff. But, oh, how I love him so. He's a great guy, and he'll always be able to keep you up to date on what the freshmen are up to. He's got his finger on the pulse. On something, anyway...
Belated birthday shouts to:
Jake (Feb. 28)
Jenny (March 7)
I will blog more about Ireland in the coming days, with anecdotes and the like. It's too much to take in all at once, and I'm still not over the experience.
I can tell you all this, though, and that's that it was absolutely beautiful: rolling hills that are green throughout the year, hazy views of mountains, clean blue skies with the perfect amount of cloud cover and mossy stones and cliffs that overlook the Atlantic Ocean. Dublin was fun, a laid-back party of a place that's pretty calm, but I think I appreciated the countryside much more. The whole country has a feel about it as though it's perpetually Sunday afternoon. There's no hustle or bustle, and people seem very lively, even if they are poor, single, and lonely. Rural Ireland has one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and you can get a hint of that sadness as you're there. You also can't help but think of all the events that shaped its history, beliefs and economy: Easter 1916 Rising, Bloody Sunday in '72, the bombings, etc. They commemorate these events with placards and signs, in the same way that they commemorate James Joyce and their writers. Joyce is especially God-like in Ireland... They have signs around everywhere showing where scenes in "Ulysses" took place... Arthur Guinness is equally worshipped, as everywhere you go is a sign for Guinness, which they call "Mother's Milk."
More on that later.
Until then, to tide you over, I have a big batch of...
1. the man with three first names & an accent that made panties fall completely off. Wonder if he likes shrimp?
2. This amazingly obese black man just walked into the computer lab in Memorial Union, where I scribe most of my e-mails. This guy had on this most ridiculous bling I've ever seen! It was nothing but a huge gold chain with the word "Large" dangling procariously in his midsection. This coupled with his gold-plated shades and a fat man's pimp walk makes him easily the most desirable man in the room.
3. You are correct: figuring things out is really just realizing you don't know shit. hang on to your ass with both hands little squirrel.
4. meanwhile, what business does bandcamp girl have being in when harry met sally, anyhow? i hope she doesn't take the flute to billy crystal. or luke perry, depending on what country you're in.
5. They tried to keep me out cuz I had Timbs on, but I was like fuck you I'm comin in the club.
6. So I am super excited to be writing this e-mail to you because I am sitting next to the ellusive transvestite I always see in the Memorial Union computer lab. I don't even know how to describe her -- she's the most manly man I've ever seen, yet with an old school Meg Ryan bangs 'n bob haircut and pink nails. The first time I saw her she was looking at straight porn out in the open in this very computer lab. I guess IATS also stands for Internet Access for Trannies and Sluts.
7. Sure he hunts & rides 4-wheelers ... but strangley enough there are no rebel flags hanging as drapes at his house
8. the wedding operation is definitely underway. She reportedly got a ring with a huge rock, "worth more than my truck," she happily reported.
9. I don't think anyone will match your level of loudness. I hope not. Not that we don't miss you.
10. what do people over there think about our democrats? do they even care? and do they really boil all their meat?
11. What is this world coming to when I miss the average semi-appeal of MU frat boys?
12. What's been going on with you, pimp-a-licious? Getting down with dem hos, I hope.
13. I usually only check my email while I'm SUPPOSED to be working. you know how that goes? sure you do. I remeber "pretending" to work with you on many occasions.
14. This weekend probably isn't too good for bumpin' my uglies, I am off to Durham for a night of drinking and debauchery with my Nottingham boys on Saturday.
15. Have you been kissing British girls/boys? Just remember they are all crazy-[Name of e-mailer's ex].
16. Several friends and I went to this bar called "North," which is this area called "La Encantada." La Encatada means "really well dressed people and way overpriced drinks" in Spanish.
17. On Friday, old roomies let me finish off a bottle of strawberry wine (!) while watching "First Wives Club." I am a gay man.
18. but enough about me and whoever it is I left at home, tied to my bedpost with my panties shoved in his mouth.... WHO is tied to your bedpost? Did you gag them? It's always a good idea ... i hate it when they alarm the neighbors with their screams.
19. VH1 has this new show, Best Week Ever, which is basically just I Love the '70s/'80s, only for the past week. It's basically just a rehash of all the conversations I have during the week with my j-school friends about current events, only on TV. Or, our blogs come to life. With semi-famous people.
20. No, they are not nearly the dancing queens you all were. But they're fun in their own way. Actually, they seem to be taking everything a bit more seriously than you all did. Can't imagine why.
21. i never realized george washington likes teal dining rooms. he never would have made it on trading spaces.
22. What ya doing by a computer.........you should be in a boozer with the Sweeny, drinking scotch and sniffing out stories about blaggers from Sarth London. Mate, you just ain't gonna make it as a hard nosed hack.
23. It's starting to feel like spring and it's become hard for me to seperate the nice weather from the upcoming May 2004 graduation. So exciting. I need to buy the cutest dress ever so I'll look amazing in everyone's pictures. I'm always thinking.
24. Then I went upstairs and laid in bed and I started to build these stories about the two of them in my mind. For example. When I went into the basement I noticed Mary Janes shoe rack on the door. The only shoes that I noticed were red heels with a zipper up the back. HOOKER! Then I put the shoes and Mary Janes long bleach blond hair together and came up with the idea that Mary Jane is an escort and Tim is a drug dealer and they just live together to make their parents, and everyone else, think that they are a normal couple with normal jobs. I'm crazy. Give me a real story to think about so I don't have to keep making up things in my mind!
25. Loved your blog entry today! You are the bomb. Cheers!
Again, bonus points to those who guess.
Ireland update to come shortly, just needed to buy some time...
