My friend Jill is now engaged.

I took Jill to prom. We did shows together in high school. She had my mom for history. She and I formed a club for proud single people -- Anti-Relationship Society Empire. ARSE, if you will.

Of course, her way of telling me she's engaged is, "Uh, yeah, I think I have now officially **officially** revoked my membership. Officially."

Congrats to Jilly and Mark, they make a cute couple.

Another One Bites the Dust

Jill is one of a few people I know who are now engaged. Most of them I know through certain other people, but this girl I went to grade school with is engaged now, too. Her name is Beth. She was one of my best friends, and that was cool because she was a foot-and-a-half taller than me. She was a basketball player. Last time I saw her, we were playing football on Stankowski Field with some sorority girls who lived with KT in Johnston. She kicked my ass then, too. I know it will be shocking for all of you, but football is not my forte. Underneath this butch demeanor is actually a clutz who doesn't know which end of the ball is up or which end is down.

I used to say that if I were to never get married, I would want an animal friend. Not an animal lover, you sickos, but an animal friend. An animal to hang with, take out in the car on windy days and to let eat off my plate. I won't say pet, because that demeans the special little guy. I would say I could get a lizard, but lizards remind me too much of snakes and alligators, and I just don't know if I should be living with a creature that I'm afraid would eat me. Just a thought. Of course, I did live with Jake. Twice. And he never ate me.

"this, however, is not the real world. not exactly fiction but pretty damn close. it has been brilliant. i don't want to leave. but as jason and i were discussing, our lives have been on hold for 4 months and its time to start them again. if i was ever fooling myself about my life not being on hold i was kidding myself. this was an interruption, a wake up, not a slap in the face, but almost. i realized quite a few things i was doing wrong. and some things that other people were doing that i really don't need to deal with. i now know that the thing that first set me in motion to come over here is not resolved yet."
-Jenny on her blog

Of course, the Pat or Jenny or Liz or Caroline or whomever is not the same who left in January.

I guess it's like when your favorite show had its season finale in May and then returned in September. You're all game for it to return, but it feels like a paused delay. I hope people don't think of me as a three-month old season premiere.

Or a McChicken Premiere. Those are fun. Are those stateside?

The White Boy Blog Party is stateside, though.

I'm hoping to return to CoMo on Thursday. There are some catches.

See, I have to be there to get some pre-graduation stuff done. Fair enough.

However, I'm damn near broke, my brother's using my car for the next few weeks, and so I'll be at my parents' mercy. Furthermore, and I know this will be oh so hard to believe, my pack-rat nature has caught up with me. Thus, my room and basement are a shrine to everything I've collected, whether it be the orange cones Josh took when he was drunk or it be my Boy Scout merit badge certificates. Lots o' crap I don't need. And Dad said that if I want to go to CoMo, then I'll want to get that stuff sorted and Audi.

So, my dear CoMoSexuals, wish me luck, send happy vibes, prayers, novenas, etc. I want to be able to stay till Sunday.

In the meantime, I can't access my Webmail on this computer, so Hotmail it to ronin42. And on IM find ronin817.

It's funny, now I actually FEEL like a ronin.

And in honor of Ian Dury and his Blockheads...

Reasons to be Cheerful!
*Not dying on Air India.
*Taco Bell at O'Hare.
*My brother screaming "What's up, slut?!" at the gate in O'Hare in front of hundreds of people.
*Steak n' Shake in NoCo.
*My mom's chicken and cheesy potatoes.
*Brian burning me a mass of dance mixes featuring Joy Division, Stone Roses, Kia, Missy, White Stripes, Madonna and Sisqo. Not kidding.
*Talking to my friends on the phone again.
*To that effect, Courtney, Erica and Hilary.
*Not paying $6 for laundry.
*Not having to pay for Internet.
*Seeing you on Thursday.

Everything's Alright When You're Down

I'm back in the U.S.A.

And while I have missed all of you and look forward to seeing all of you, and to New York, and whatever else, I can't help but think that a big chunk of my heart is still on Greenwich time, riding the tube, reading about Becks' sex texts, anticipating some chocolate caramel digestives, waiting to tell Peter and Iain I just got The Best of Nick Cave.

And that chunk of my heart I think will always be there. If it continues to hurt this bad, I might just have to give London the other half when Becca moves there next year. After all, she is going to need a roommate.

Where would we live? Camden? Couch End? Surrey? Who knows.

I always figured that my big moment of love would be with a person, though I wasn't too specific on that. I never thought it would be a place. Of all culprits, I never thought it would be a city that would break my heart.

Goodbye, London, Brixton, and Hammersmith Palais. I'll see you in a year.

I think I might like a Twinkie. In Australia.

So, word on the street is that I have been immortalized in bobble-head form. By Dan. P*rschw*tz.

Of course, a bobble-head of me is probably more politically correct than dolls of, say, Mohammad Ali, Michael J. Fox or Katharine Hepburn. Just a thought.

Well, I mean, I don't know, but when the rubber hits the road, would you like fries with that?

This was in an e-mail from Phou:

Come buy a Big Mac from School of Journalism as the[y] take over the McDonald's at Lowry Mall. That's right - SPJ has talked a dozen willing faculty into manning the fry machines, making shakes and flipping burgers! A portion of proceeds benefits SPJ.

I think we'd need the following people for it to be worth it: Patty A., Fred, Schneller, Curt, Fil@k, J-Bo, and well, of course, ReuStar.

The Last Day Of Our Acquaintance

Today is my last day at LondonNet. The gang is coming to the I.E. Karaoke bash on Thursday, but still, it's sorta sad.

In honor of this historic last day, I will leave you with some of our better moments.

Peter: Did you get the e-mail about the deaf people?
Iain: What?
Pat: What?
Iain: What?
Peter: This guy said he had a complaint about the cinemas without subtitles.
Iain: What?
Peter: Oh, stop it.
Pat: What?
Peter: It's not a laughing matter.
Pat: Oh come on!
Peter: Patrick, there is nothing funny about deaf people.
Pat: Peter, I'm not laughing at them, I'm laughing at you.
Iain: What about little people?
Peter: What about them?
Iain: You know, the short lady?
Peter: The short lady?
Iain: You were busting your guts out at the midget!
Peter: Stop it, Iain. This is not a comedy program, is it? It's an office. It's not "The Office," but an office.
Iain: Oh, Peter! Do a lot of deaf people even go to the cinema?
Peter: They do!

-----

Pat: It says here [a gay football player] stormed the cockpit!
Iain Oh, I bet he did! You know what the Arabs say: women for babies, boys for pleasure.

-----

Peter: Jesus! Oh, sorry, Patrick.
Pat: Next time you say sorry for that, I'm going to say the F-word.
Peter: Fuck off! Oh God!
Pat: You son of a bitch!

-----

Iain: (hearing Joan Osborne's "What If God Was One of Us") If God was one of us, He would have murdered you at birth so you couldn't have inflicted this noise on all of us.

-----

Harper: Oh my God, I'm talking to the craziest guy ever.
Pat: Who is he?
Harper: He's crazy! He's one of those tortured writers. He's a film student. He's, like, mentally disabled or something. Wacko!

-----

Harper: Oh my God, like, I'm ready to cry.
Iain: Why?
Harper: I keep calling these German train people about a train from Salzburg to Prague, and I can't understand them, because they keep speaking German.
Peter: You have to ask them if they speak English.
Harper: What?
Peter: Sprechen zie... Oh, I'll just write it down for you.
Harper: Spreck.. Un... See? Zee? Zee. Douche?
Iain: Should we tell her that Salzburg in Austria?

-----

Pat: I say the C-word is more offensive than the F-word.
Peter: I disagree.
Helenka: What? The C-word is terrible. I hate it.
Peter: Well, if it's meant to be offensive, then it's done its job, right?
Helenka: But what does that make you if you say it?
Peter: I don't mind c---.
Helenka: Peter!
Peter: What?
Iain: I can't believe you said c---.
Peter: Oh, see I think motherfucker is much worse.
Helenka: What type of office is this?

A bloody good one, that's what.

(And I will note that Peter has asked me three times while I was writing this if I have posted this yet. A boss that nags me to blog is a neat one, indeed.)

Bon voyage, LondonNet. You cheeky bunch.

Well, my friends, my London days are numbered.

Now, I have talked to many of you about my last couple weeks here, and my feelings of homesickness and the like, but all in all, when the rubber hits the road, I will miss London.

But I do look forward to hearing Schneller say, "When the rubber hits the road." In person.

There have been some odd observations I've noticed but haven't posted. Yet. And that's mainly because they don't fit anywhere. Until now.

Here are a bunch of random London musings, particularly as to what makes London London, and what makes it different from, say, CoMoSexual.

***
American girls will notice that at London clubs, people don't grind on each other. They say this with shock, as though that's something guys are supposed to do at clubs. I'd say this is a positive cultural difference, because I wouldn't think that a boner in your back is something to miss.

***
One of my favorite oddities of London was the Chinese buffet man. There was always an Asian person, usually a young guy, outside the Earl's Court station holding a sign that says, "Chinese Buffet, 100 yards." The first one was my favorite. He wore a wool cap and glasses, and big grey parka that made him look like had no neck. He'd spin the sign a bit, but mainly he'd just stand his post, and then randomly pace around. He was always there, at least during the day. I never saw him leave, until the day he disappeared. I never saw anyone talk to him. He was just the Chinese buffet man. I imagine this could be Johnny Huang's fate if he were to have his tongue cut out. Otherwise, he might think of himself as a carnival barker and start calling out, "Chinese buffet, per se? A hundred yards, more or less."

***
Harper and I were in Covent Garden a few months ago looking around when she spotted an Urban Outfitter's store. I instinctively walked in, knowing that Harper would want to go inside.

We walk in, and the guy at the cashier has a combination mullet-mohawk, known to Londoners as the Hoxton fin but known to me and the ladies of Hogarth flat #2 as the "mullock." The mullock has the traditional mullet feature of shaggy hair growing in the back, but its added bonus is that the hair on top is combed toward to the middle to make a ridge, not unlike a mohawk. Thus, the mullock. This mullock was eye-catching even to Helen Keller and her peeps, and it took me a second to realize he was wearing a bright pink shirt. With hair and fashion like that, he looked like the long lost member of Duran Duran circa 1984.

At the back of the store was a set of stairs leading up to a landing that in turn led to another set of stairs. Standing on the landing was a security guard, a stocky black woman with a beehive in front and orange hair extensions on either side and on the back. She had this sober look on her face, as only a fear-inspiring security guard can, but she was pumping her arms and hips out as though she was doing an arthritic version of "the cabbage patch." It didn't seem to match the music being played, and her face didn't suggest she was in any way happy, but she was nonetheless busting a move. An important thing to note is that these stairs and walls were covered in mirrors. Thus, we could see this large black woman shaking back and forth like a robot. I would have wanted to stay and watch, but after seeing the scowl on her face, I think I'm glad that we busted out of there.

***
There's more on mullets. The English, particularly Londoners, are usually at the epicenter of global trends, but it should be said that the British doing it is not good enough reason to copy. Conquering tribes of foreign lands and turning brown people into slaves may have seemed cool and in vogue to the Brits way back when, but the rest of us were just as stupid to follow suit. Just under slavery on the evil scale is the mullet. I had originally thought that the mullet was the handiwork of American hoosiers, but I should have realized that most evil starts with the Brits. I was told -- by a gay man in Soho sporting a mullet/mohawk combo -- that the mullet was originally British, and dates back to the 60s. Why the 60s was a crucial date for mullet-kind, I don't know, but then again, I am taking my information from a gay man with a mullet, which I can't help but think is akin to talking to a skinhead wearing Fubu.

***
We passed a homeless guy who like all homeless guys called out to us.

"Excuse me, can I get some change?"

He noticed Harper's camera and said, "You can have my picture for a pound!"

At this point I decided to look at him. This was the same guy who last week was planted on the ground and asked us for a pound so he could get a pint. Needless to say, he didn't get a pint, and we didn't get his picture.

Happy Birthday, Erica!

Yes, it really is Erica's birthday, I did not write that for s's and g's.

So, in honor of said birthday, I thought I'd go back into the WBBP vaults and whip up a fun comparison like I had in the past. You know, maybe a fun post like, comparing Erica and a can of beans, or with Harry Potter, or Omar Sharif or something else, but I thought better of it. First off, I know nothing of Omar Sharif, and my only reason for even thinking of it is that I like the sound of his name and I wanted to think of a way I could use it on a blog post.

And now I have.

Thank you.

So, that takes care of Omar Sharif. The can of beans wouldn't really work, though you could argue that both have sauce, spice and kick. But Erica doesn't come in a can, nor is she sprinkled in chili.

Then there was the Harry Potter idea, but that would be just way too obvious, right? It would make sense to have it be one of the other characters, but since I know as much about Harry Potter as I do about social ettiquette, I figured I better just stay away from that one completely.

Thus, I think we'll just have to go without the comparisons altogether.

I guess I could come up with an anecdote, which is only appropriate, and there are a few, like the time a male model picked her up at the Artisan en route to New York, the time she called me to say "Love Actually" was set in London and she had been there, or the time she babysat me at Alpha Chi hayride when Claire was running around in a cowboy hat and I had assumed the disposition of one Phantom Johnny.

But they might lose a little something in the translation.

Or I could tell about the time she e-mailed me and demanded I give blood for Gamma Phi, despite any colds, tattoos or piercings I might have. But that never happened, as she is not in Gamma Phi. So I surely can't talk about that, right?

Anywho, I guess I should just do the most obvious thing, and that's to say...

Happy Birthday, Erica!

Why I'm proud (or not) to be from Missouri:
Sorority women told to lie to give blood [CNN]
Fast-food loving Miss Missouri crowned Miss USA [CNN]

Former residents of Mark Twain will recall that Michelle M. ended up joining said sorority. This was after Rick left DU to be KA. Props to M*g*t's sister for the info on what happened there.

See, we might not have had Johnny or Keona, but we did have Rick, Michelle, Big Joe, Blair, Slaughter, Jeff N*u, Crank, Keith, Kat, Amity, Marci and moi. You guys had just a few wackos; we had a whole slew of them.*

*Of course, you** did have N@t@sh@, Guy, Matt M., Matt H., Ch@d, Nicko, the mean skinny girl with red hair, Jeff G. and Shiraz. In fact, you guys did have a lot of your fair share of weird folk.
**You refers to the residence hall where 64 percent of you all lived.

Dear Benjy's,

It should be no secret by now that I have been sweet on you for quite some time. I can't help but be drawn to your simple setting, what with the wooden signs, the pink chalk and the variety of breakfast offerings. Yes, you have quite the array of morning meals, and yet in your goodness, you allow those meals at all times of the day. I am especially fond of the English breakfast, immortalized in your fabulous Builder dish. This plate gives me all I could ever want from a plate of breakfast, and more: sausage, bacon, egg, toast, fries, beans and tomato. Your waitresses, tired from little sleep, cranky from low pay and confused from their lack of English skills, are always able to handle my request that the beans and tomato be left out in place of more fries. I have never felt the way I do when your waitresses scribble my order, mutter something in Czech and then walk to the counter. The monitor that plays Black Eyed Peas only enhances my dining experience, and serves as a great media background when I watch your managers add water to the large bucket of ketchup. The grease that lines the plates doesn't just line the grease of all the food products, but it also lines my heart. Thank you, Benjy's, for this great love affair we share three or four days a week.

Love,

Patrick

I'm a little homesick, and not because London isn't fabulous, but because it's Easter. Maybe not homesick so much as I am family-sick (but not sick of my family), so please indulge me in this ridiculous and ludicrous post.

"Are you English, or..."

In the most exciting Friday night ever, I decided to start reading "The Da Vinci Code" after everyone and their mother (mine included) recommended it to me. Becca had read it when we were in Italy, and as soon as I finished "High Fidelity" (Friday afternoon) I decided to start the most hyped book this side of "Harry Potter."

Well, the author has some of the same quirks as Lee Strobel, author of "The Case For Christ," in that he has to comment on the way a character clears his throat, answers the door, picks up the phone, takes a shit, etc.

Don't worry, though, I am still reading it and I will finish it. It's interesting thus far and it's hooked me if for no other reason than it's set in Europe, I'm in Europe, it's about art I've seen and it has a lot to do with Catholicism. Okay, okay, okay, those are several reasons, rather than just one, hence why I should continue said reading of said book. I promise it will be different than "Harry Potter" and I'll actually finish this one. (I know that should elicit comments from at least 7 of you).

"It wasn't even his awful taste"

Meanwhile, while I was reading, Patrick (roommate) and two of our friends (Jason and Tanya) were down the hall watching "Spiderman" on one of our friends' DVD-equipped computers. This didn't make me stop reading "The Da Vinci Code."

But "The Fast And The Furious" did.

I know, I know, I know, it's awful, and it represents a horrible, horrible split set of priorities. Stopping at the beginning of a renowned best-seller about art, mystery and the church, to watch a movie with some of the worst dialogue - ever- well, it's embarrassing.

But obviously not too embarrassing to mention on the blog, because I know some of you reading this own not only the "House Party" series, but a certain one of you owns "Beverly Hills Ninja." Still, this is not the same as the one of you who owns half of the DVDs ever made, including "American Outlaws" and "Tomb Raider." Nor is this Lurch, who I will just straight out name, because brother needs to be called out for having "Rats of Nimh," "Blair Witch Project" and "Pump Up The Volume." I love Christian Slater, but my friend, come on.

Can you tell I've just finished reading "High Fidelity"? Because I did. In case you didn't know, I have just finished reading "High Fidelity." The book. And it was quite good.

Emily squeezed my double cheeseburger; can we still be friends?

After "Spiderman," Jason came into my room to borrow Patrick's sauce, cheese, etc., to make a plate of midnight pasta. Except he borrowed these one by one, rather than in one fell swoop. Well, after a while, it smelled so good that I got hungry myself, and so I did what any rational man does when his friend makes a decent-smelling meal: I walked down to McDonalds, of course.

Don't worry, though, it was around 1:30 a.m., and thus it was no longer Good Friday. I wasn't eatin' McDonald's on a holy day. I was eating Balans and Dino's, though, but still, no meat. Me = good Catholic. Or, me = not Hitler.

As I was returning from McDonalds, I approached Lindsey and Emily, on the way home from a jazz club in SoHo. We started exchanging stories of what we did earlier that night, and then, out of nowhere, Emily grabs for my McDonalds bag. Of course, she doesn't grab for the top part, because that's where my hands are, so she grabs the bottom of the bag, where my double cheeseburger and fries are. If that bag had been a neck, it would have been strangled, and dead. I had to push her off my poor bag. She said she did this because I hadn't let her have a bite of the double cheeseburger.

Still, though, I have to wonder: Does cheeseburger grabbing count as a friendship-affecting experience? Does it change matters if we mention that it was a double cheeseburger? From McDonalds?

And I'm a little disheartened that more of you aren't making noise on those funny sentences. I didn't post them for posterity. Well, yeah, I did, but I was hoping they'd be snappy discussion starters. And while Dan did note that he's not responsible for any of them, that should kinda sorta be a cue then as to who did say them, you know, by process of elimination.

But don't let this distract you from the aforementioned cheeseburger squeezing.

It's just that you all have lots of discussing to do, that's all.

P.S. Jackie's mom's a ho. Still.

White Boy Blog Party Favors
OR
Reasons To Be Cheerful
*Seeing a guy at the internet cafe pick his nose and then eat it. Three different times.
*Having Fred buy me a beer. Again.
*Chats with Katy.
*The prospect of karaoke.
*Trudy's description of Shakespeare's family.
*Gabe's impression of Trudy's Satanic change in voice, as she goes from a falsetto to a Joe Alonzo baritone.
*Dan's blog.
*Dan beating Erica in e-mail and in wishing me a happy Holy Week on behalf of someone else.
*Peter requesting a White Boy Dance Party at work on Wednesday because he was having a bad day and needed cheering up.
*The homeless guy on Earl's Court Road recognizing me as his buddy.
*Getting my scrapbook from Mary!
*Getting Hershey's from Mary!
*Sweet sweet e-mails from Erin.
*My nephew's proclamation that he will become a priest if he can't marry his great-grandmother.
*The Reduced Shakespeare Company.
*Anastasia.
*Girls with dirty mouths.
*The woman who's been substituting Robert Elms on the BBC this week.
*The BLC lecture on Pop Culture.
*Gannet's dad. Still. Again.
*Playing e-mail tag with Claire.
*Stories that include the phrases "tongue down his throat."
*Anne and Tim singing along to "Rent."
*A Tribe Called Quest.
*Bad Religion.
*Ben Folds' "Sunny 16" and "Speed Graphic" EPs.
*My dream about being in Arizona, and that in this dream, Arizona takes up two-thirds of the North American land mass.
*Revels.
*Toblerone.
*E-mails from Brian.
*Knowing that my mom will call me on Easter!

From: Derek
To: Hilary; Kelly
Subject: info from Pat

What up ladies,
So I was talkin to Pat on IM today and he told me that while he's in Italy he saw and met none other than Donnatella Versace. He said to tell you Hilary b/c he didn't have time to email as he was about to run out, but I thought you might like to know as well Kelly, being the fashionistas that you are. I know Versace from the rap songs! "I can't even pronounce nothin, pass that Versaysee." Take it easy, talk to you later. Peace.

--D-Rock

This was Derek's April Fool's Joke on the girls, and well, I must say, it was a good one. Of course, I didn't see Ms. Versace, but that's okay, because, well, I saw the Pope. Just thought I'd mention that again.

This is why Derek needs a blog. Others who need blogs include:
*Hilary
*Jackie
*Gabe
*Claire

And that reminds me...



HAPPY BIRHTDAY, CLAIRE!

Isn't that picture great?

It was on the now infamous "Graduation Night 2003," which was the last night I saw Wilson, Courtney and Erin. That was one of the nights we sat on the J-slum porches till 4, screaming "Yo yo, po po!" at the cops.

What a great time.

And we get to do it all over again in just a few short weeks!!

Ciao, Italia!

I'll be posting about Italy on the other site, so look there. And do look there. I mean it. No one posts on that site, and I'm worried the little blog could get lonely of all the attention his big brother gets. Of course, don't forget this one, either.

Funny sentences in my inbox, Vol. 3

1. Well, the Missouri men, surprise surprise, are bound for the NIT. As it the not-worth-the-invite tourney. Oops. There ya go, Quin. Finally the cap to the bad season that y'all deserved. Of course, I have no opinion on the matter.

2. i guess you could say we were coffee whores for the night. maybe not whores, that might require visiting more than just two coffee houses.

3. I remember once, a huge beast of a woman, found out I had a girlfriend and laughed, excitedly. She then made the gesture of the middle finger going thru the hole made by fingers on the other hand ... but used four fingers! Oh, I laughed and was then later disgusted!

4. Tell those ad kids if they ever try to disrespect Fred, I'll swim across that ocean and kick their skinny, cigarette-smoking, dark-roots-showing, Kate-Spade-messenger-bag-carrying asses.

5. anyway...went to the phantom of the opera again last night (w/my fam) and afterward in piccadilly circus my little brother danced with some random black men playing bongo drums by the tube station. that was interesting. my brother is a bit bizarre... the other one made a rap cd with his friends and brought it over. his rap name is sparky green. believe me when i say i am the most normal child in my family.

6. Is it possible to lack observation skills to that degree and still be able to follow a basketball game? Maybe he's gay.

7. I'm ready to piss on that fire hydrant again, but that could be the excess of hormones, the freakish hot flashes and the sidesplitting cramps.

8. It's been going well. He's quiet and laughs at my jokes. I think that's why we get along so well. I like people who validate my humor. Turns out he looks like a young Truman Capote. Thankfully he doesn't look like an old Truman Capote (an obese toad with syphylis).

9. I hope you're having fun with all your visitors. Don't get too drunk off the alcohol they provide you and puke on the Tube. I wouldn't want to think that you've become THAT GUY. There's nothing worse than your cute new boots getting splattered with puke while confined in an unventilated Tube car.

10. Besides, who else do you know that works at Jerry Springer's playground -- I have met Thunder and Lightening (the brothers who will probably get beat up their whole lives for their names) and Heaven Leigh Angel (who's mother only went to school until seventh grade and insisted that her daughter's name be said all together, every time) and Sapphire Heaven (who's mother was so unfit with the eight other children that she had that she wasn't even supposed to see this baby) I mean really -- what more could you want?

11. I'm writing this story about this stupid debt gateway crap. everyone thinks its a bad idea but no one wants to SAY it because its politically-driven and no one wanst to piss anyone else off. I HATE THAT. I hate sitting on the phone and getting 20 minutes of PR dribble. I just want to scream JUST SAY IT BITCH, SAY WHAT YOU REALLY ARE THINKING.

12. I've tried inserting amusing sentances into this email, in hopes that maybe one would make a "funny sentances" blog entry, but yet again, I've failed. I have been trying this for the past 8 months with emails to F*scus with no avail. i'm just not witty enough. i know there's probably something in this monstrous email that has made you laugh, simply because it appealed to you, but there's nothing that is stand-alone funny. i'm no d@n p*rschw*tz. how does one learn to be funny? i think i'm better at appreciating other people's humor than creating my own humor. funny, eh?

13. my parents don't have sex. and if they do, it is really really rare. people think i am just naive and that they do. but i know they don't. how's that for a lackluster parental sex story.

14. she could have nearly taken it word for word from your blog. ooh, maybe you stole it from her. thief. the feds are going to be after your ass.

15. so is his cousin hot?!!? i've always wished he had boobs so i could bang him

16. Don't forget us bumblefucks in the land of Meth and Hoosiers. England may be jolly but we're blissfully inbred.

17. We are having a beautiful spring weekend and are liking spring time! We will be doing the shock and awe campaign against the dandelions in a little while, but even those little yellow yard acne are welcome after gray winter!

18. He was especially amused by the girl who spent much of her time walking around the room with her camera between her boobs and her dress drawn up nearly around her waist. He also said that there was a lot of ass slap-age amongst all the girls.

19. To me, there is nothing funnier than the thought of JPII on a jumbotron. The last famous group of people I saw on a jumbotron was 'N Sync. Clearly, a different type of religious experiences.

20. I ran into them at Chipotle, and she is this cute but midget-like woman who resembles a porcelain doll. He's got at least a couple of inches on her.

21. What's more redeeming than cool (and hot!) rappers telling your ex that you are neat. NOTHING! Ex-fucking-actly.

22. You left your paper and candy in my flat last night. Well, you left your paper, since we ate all the candy.

23. just so you know, legal retardation is only achieved when your blood alcohol level reaches .666 percent. that Reese PB Cups idea is actually a novel i've been working on for years, dont steal it.

24. my brothers are friends with her son and apparently the son found a vibrator in his mom's room somewhere. also a sweet lady. husband wasn't an alcoholic but had a grizzly mid-life crisis and was a huge asshole. all's well now, tho.

25. She will never trust a man who doesn't drink cheap alcohol and it should be okay as long as he isn't so extreme that he has sworn off sex.

26. Hope this finds you standing upright. I visited a horse farm on Monday.

27. Now I'm going on and on like the Mizzoumafia guy and 'mafiosi.' Enough.

28. But that's probably a girls thing, too. I pissed there once, so I don't have a right to want to piss there again when it's not my turn. If that makes any sense. And by the way -- that definitely should appear on your "in my inbox" feature on your blog. No one would guess it was me. Seriously.

29. No job yet. I just need a change. And I love the city. I need to take a risk. I want to be a writer. Fuck being famous. Fuck being liked. I just need to be published. And have my balls licked every now and again.

30. Maybe I am girlier than I thought, but I hate rodents of all sorts. Ew! I flip out, run out of the apartment and go downstairs to see if [the guy downstairs] has any suggestions on how to thwart the furry friend. He's not there so I resorted to turning on some Ani Difranco (I imagine that rats don't like lesbian rock) and opened the door a bit and went out to run some errands. I came back and the cd was over and I couldn't see or hear Mildred.

31. a hot British bloke at a sorority function. i'd get super cool points for that. i'd have to knock megan out, tie her up and set Cassie to guard her for the night, though.

32. try bending over and shooting flames out of your ass. always gets me in the door.

33. We will always be family, no matter where you brush your teeth. Warm climate would be nice, too.

34. I want to stab myself with a fork. Or Unibrow. One or the other.

35. well, we kicked a girl out for having a threesome with 2 members of our homecoming partner's house... so there you go. do you know how many threesomes OCCUR in greektown? probably a lot more than that one. but we are the queens of the "live in glass house yet throw big fatty crack rocks at other people" concept... basically, we had enough sluts in our sorority already. we reached what is known in science as the "saturation point."

36. anyway, i was looking in the drawer of her nightstand and i found a tube of k-y jelly. needless to say, i was quite tramatized and learned not to go snooping through my grandma's things anymore.

37. I have been calling upon St. Anthony for over an hour but he must be busy gathering lost children or missing car keys and has no time for helping a mother look for a needle in her son's haystack of papers--thousands of papers, millions of papers--many, many of which will be recycled when said son returns from London.

38. I like the three-way, too. We should do more of it.

Italy was a blast, and most of you are getting a postcard, but I'll give you the highlights, because I'm a good guy like that.

The best part of the whole trip was Palm Sunday Mass in Rome, with a couple thousand of our closest friends, not in the least being a little old guy named John Paul.

They had Mass at St. Peter's square and we showed up. We looked at the main platform, then the jumbotron screen, saw that it was the Pope, and that he was there! There were screens taking in feed from Germany (where there was World Youth Day) and all sorts of singers and people addressing the Pope and saying prayers.

It was kinda sorta awesome.

Thought you'd like to know.

Other cool things included the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Michelangelo's David, both of his Pieta statues, the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter's Basilica, the Colisseum, and shit, so much more.

I can't even remember it all. We did it in just four days.

I looked all over Italy at least 20 t-shirt stands and huts, but none had what I really wanted, and that was a T-shirt that said, "Italians Do It Better," like the shirt Madonna wore in the video for "Papa Don't Preach." They had David Beckham jerseys and shirts with the McDonalds logo with the words MARIJUANA real big, but nothing to describe the skills with which Italians do it. We may have to make our own when I return.

Anywho, a longer, more in-depth blog post is of course coming, with mentions of the dirty street merchants trying to get us to buy "genuine fakes" and the beggars saying they were giving money to kids with AIDS. I will of course have to mention the great food of Italy, and all the beautiful fountains. Of course the weather was fab, too, so of course that gets a mention.

Thus, more updates will come, as this skeet post will not do it justice, but is just a little update to let you know I'm safe, I'm alive, I had a blast, and well, I saw the Pope.