July 2006 Archives

For anyone who's seen Clerks II, I'd like to point out that a few weeks back I wrote these words on here:

--side note: In looking up what the name was for Taken, since it escaped me, I came across the fact that Spielberg is currently filming the live-action Transformers movie. Huh. I hope he doesn't fuck it up, Decepticons are deep, deep characters. Starscream? He's like Jesus.--

Look at Elias's shirt and tell me: Am I not the prophet of truth and, yea, he who foresees all that which is worth seeing? Fuck yeah, I am.

Clerks II was phenomenal. I walked out of the theater directly thinking that I laughed a lot more and enjoyed myself more at Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, but that overall this was a better movie. The Clerks cartoon is there to show the slapstick side of these characters; Clerks II serves more to examine them as real people characters. And it works.

Plus, well... you don't go ass-to-mouth. It's a sentiment for the whole family, and one I can get behind. Ass-to-mouth? Don't do it.

I originally intended this to cover my own Clerking life but that's going to be on hold for a bit. Maybe later. If you're good.

I'm sorry... what?

 

Do you ever feel like you're completely surrounded by the inherently incompetent? I really need to break out of a few situations. In proper terms: I been slummin' it, yo.

Oh well, I'm starting to think it won't be long before I have a realistic end point for mediocre bullshit; The four-digits I'm dropping each month on bills have to be working towards one.

By the way, that picture up top is one I snapped a couple hours ago as I was getting lunch. I was a little confused. I was kind of waiting for it to turn and speak, but no such luck. I'd posit that I must be as blind as Anne Frank to have missed it previously, but it was at The King, which is a place I seldom traverse.

--speak of the inept devil, it's time to cut this short. People are ridiculous.

I've recently been accused of not blogging enough. Looking at the stats--four blogs this last week with sixty-five views--I'd say that that's just not true.

With that said my title is a little misleading, although entirely applicable.

My grandmother on my mom's side is moving from La Crosse to live with my parents this weekend. Awkward sentence structuring aside, I don't mean to imply that she will be a resident of the Beadle household for one weekend, but rather that as of this upcoming Saturday they have a new resident joining the cast. And--much like a sitcom--she just so happens to be the elderly, religious republican moving into the house of youthful, wiseass liberals. 

Cue your laugh tracks. 

Needless to say, the household is in a bit of turmoil over this. My mom has kept my old room pretty much my old room (with the exception of the addition of the unfamiliar term cleanliness) with the hopes that I would completely fail at life and move home. That might not be an entirely fair summary of her master plan, as she more hopes that I would make the decision to move home and live rent free while I go to school either at UW-Madison or MATC, but the bottom-line is that my mom is NOT against the idea of having a son in his late twenties living in the basement. I told her to keep dreaming and that Sorry, but I'm going to be homeless on the streets of Milwaukee before I'd consider making that fateful downtrodden return to Stoughton. And I mean it. I'll go the vagrant route before reversion.

A step forward might be a step down a declining path but it's still better than walking in reverse.

So, being the thoughtful sonuvabitch that I am, I used my day off yesterday to drive home and visit for a bit. I also used it as an excuse to get a free haircut, filled tank of gas and an oil change. In thoughtfulness. I then wished my mom luck on preparing for D-Day and told her they'd have to make more Milwaukee trips now that I won't be returning home for visits. But, you know, thoughtfully. Now--don't get me wrong. I like my grandma. But, as I stated, my grandma is the religious conservative. I can handle this on small-scale visits (once each christmas) and keep my tongue bit. In my parent's house, however, for a day or two at a time... well after a brief exchange of unchecked words I don't think my grandma would any longer be too fond of me.

She has a framed photograph of Bush hanging on her wall.

Now I'm as anti the anti-Bush folk as I am against the administration, because I think you have to judge individual actions and stances in the proper context. But there's a certain mindset that would lead one to frame a picture of this man and hang him next to where you sleep. I don't know what this mindset exactly is--I'm not a profiler.

So I visited the folks and played some Croquet against the little sister. I dominated and rubbed it in her face. We then played a game without rules where you just kept taking shot after shot without waiting for the other player. This I also won. She complained that it wasn't fair for me to win a game with no rules. I said that you'd have to be an idiot to lose at a game with no rules and that with a bit more imagination or flexible perspective her loss could've easily been a win. In her voicing her concerns to my parents my mom instantly responded the former point of view of unfairness, whilst my dad jumped to the same conclusion I had. Without rules, how could you lose? Just change how you win. Column A/Column B. X versus Y. At least I see a pattern in cleverness.

My dad plays on an Ultimate Frisbee team--has in some form for many years. The incarnations--as I've known them--have been SNARF! (think Thundercats), Non-Smoking Giraffes (with a dynamite logo of a giraffe diving towards a frisbee with a cigarette-in-mouth), and now Sparkler. All on the MUFA league. His team has at times been one of the best ranked, they've placed in the top groups several times, he played on the Men's Masters team and when they won could've gone to Florida to qualify for the ESPN tournament but couldn't get out of work to do so. A few summers Mike and I were able to go with my parents and my dad's team on a canoe outing which required us to drive to the end point and get bused 40-50 miles upstream so that we could spend two days canoeing back down. It was good, tiring times. You stop at sandbars as needed, cookout, camp at the end of the first night. There's a nudist beach you canoe past that I was completely oblivious to each trip, and while I was teased for my ineptitude towards noticing naked people it was also conceded that the beach was full of old naked men and as such I took it as a built-in skill to be proud of; a predisposed blinder that filters out old naked men. (With this in mind when we were kids and my mom would take us to a beach off of Willy st in Madison without realizing that it was also a nude beach I completely failed to notice the lifeguard going topless. I was also like 12, so I suppose it's forgivable, but I'm well aware that at 12 I was pissed when I heard I missed a setup of such magnitude) We are doing this trip again come the last weekend of August. This will be the first time it's been done since high school and as such the first time I can get drunk while canoeing down a river. I'm not going to lie--I'm excited. And okay that it may be the worst idea I've ever had.

For the past few weeks I've been working at assembling an Ultimate team of my own, as some of you may be well aware. We are sitting at around 8-9 people who are committed enough that I can count them in. We need to get up to 12-15 and we need a few more girls on board as you have to have at least 4 and 2 have to be playing at all times. 7 on the field at a time, it's mostly hanging out and drinking and we are starting our own team so that it isn't a competitive thing. Usually you get a sponsor doled out to you and certain bars will offer post-game free pitchers of beer. If anyone from the Milwaukee area wants in on this get ahold of me and we'll talk shop. And after we talk about making terrific birdhouses and wooden bongs, we'll talk frisbee.

Odds and Addendums:

We saw A Scanner Darkly last Friday and it was damn good. Check it out if you get the chance.

I'm a lying bastard for mentioning anything on this, but sometimes I put cords into inputs from outputs and flick strings. The last result of this is a track called solipsism that I put up at the appropriate location. What I'm curious about is that when I tried to play this at my parents house I only got the repetitious rhythm and the alternate parts came through really quiet if at all. That's not what I get on my computer and on one other computer we have, but I'm hoping I can get some feedback on if it just sounds like the same damn thing for 3 minutes or if you can hear the other parts kick in (at about 30 seconds. 1 minute and 2 minutes, respectively).

Solipsism is a philosophical POV that I've been musing on and reading up about over the past few weeks. The idea is more or less that your own perception of reality is more important than what the "true" reality actually is. It's the sort of idea that historical fact and historical recollection are usually different (IE winners write history from their point of view) and/or the idea that you can never truly remember a moment as it happened but merely as you choose to recall it. You can take this further to as far as you are concerned your POV is reality, you are God and nobody else truly exists; they are solely your manifestations. A common explanation of a solipsist is the Brain in a Vat example, which is like The Matrix. It's basically postulation of what if you really were just a brain in a mad scientist's vat, and the world as you know it is a false projection you've created or been fed. How would you know?

My take on this is that your POV of reality is all that really matters for you and should be your primary concern. On one hand it seems like this might free you from notions like being concerned about how others see you, inhibition and so on... but really you need to still be concerned about how you perceive others perceiving you. Self-image really just is your idea of how you are seen, and it may be not even close to the truth, which is going to vary individual to individual. I've also for my own personal philosophical view been working this in with Pragmatic Theory, but that's another blog for another day.

Or at least one hell of a pretentious drunken conversation.

...not the hit film with Chuck Norris. Sorry.

The drummer from Fall Out Boy just came in and bought a Sidekick III from Chris. I'm pretty sure you can read all about it in his hit blog, titled "Holy shit, I just touched Fall Out Boy. I did! I touched 1/4 of the entire band!"

This happenstance, however, completely highlights and underscores my key problem with the Sidekick III: Their target audience is unwanted celebrities. You know who was at the Sidekick III launch party? Paris Hilton was there. Fall Out Boy was probably there, but apparently they told their drummer that they all had to collectively wash their hair or something and then snuck off, hoping he wouldn't find out. Outside of that I think it was most likely just Scott Stapp and a couple of the hobbits from the second Lord of the Rings movie. You know who I didn't see in the headlines, calling all of their friends and shouting their Sidekick Love? Deaf People.

Now before you jump to the [correct] conclusion that I'm just being an asshole, the Sidekick II is fucking huge in the deaf community. On one hand I'm terribly impressed with marketing, because do you know how difficult it is to market a goddamn phone for a deaf person? It's like RayBan getting Ray Charles to be their spokesman. "The light never bugs me. Choose RayBan!" On the flipside--I've got nothing but respect for the applications of the Sidekick II. I deal with customers via paper and pen all the time because of that fucking thing and you know what? I love it. Nobody can tell how good or terrible of a job I'm doing, I'm just writing that shit down. After it's all done I drop it all in the paper shredder. Confidentiality. Also, I don't want them to see that I just told a customer that they made me miss the circus a little bit.

For serious, though, the Sidekick lets deaf people communicate a lot easier and in a lot more style than ever before. Plus everyone is wearing bluetooth headsets so now hearing aids look cool, too. I had a customer bring in their nonresponsive Sidekick the other day and when we got it up and going one of the first things I [accidentally] noticed was a message on it that just said "Becky, where the hell are you, you fucking whore?" and it made me happy. T-Mobile makes it easier for deaf people to be called fucking whores. Equality at its finest? I think so. I'm proud to be a part of that.

So now they have to come in with the Sidekick III and fuck it all up. Is Paris Hilton deaf? I didn't get that impression from that video clip. Is the drummer from Fall Out Boy deaf? Listening to their newest CD one might be inclined to think so, but again: I didn't get that impression from that video clip.

...awkward.

The Sidekick III is incorporating a few new features: It looks exactly the same, only black. It has an upgradable memory card. It also supports Bluetooth. And, lastly: squeezable track ball. To break it down, the memory card allows you to store and play MP3's. The Bluetooth headset allows for wireless phone calls. And a squeezable track ball. The track ball was pretty cool. But, again... The #1 device out there for the deaf community? Sure, let's give that shit the ability to play music. That's probably something they've been losing sleep over, their phone not being able to spit out audio. And just to put the sprinkles on the icing of the cake, let's give them the option of buy a wireless audio headset. Phenomenal.

To take a second and illustrate the cake metaphor: It looks like it was made by the handicapped. For serious. I mean these were probably the cake guys who sent this to Rwanda:

 

And that's not cool.

Okay. So nobody with any common sense would use this as a phone. Anyone who actually needs portable internet access would get a device like a BlackBerry or an MDA/SDA that allows you to receive, edit and send documents and then go fuck around on MySpace. So what are we left with? The kid from Fall Out Boy. And Paris Hilton. And probably Tom Cruise because it'll help him reach OT Level 12 or something--I don't know, the whole religion is spending money. And kids who have the impenetrable argument for their rich parents of But Fred Savage has one!

Ah, who am I kidding? I can't argue against that. Fred Savage is pretty damn cool. I mean, he was in The Wizard. Game Over.

 

PS: That's definitely Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley.

I am a tired, tired man.

Friday was: Best Buy from 7:00 AM until 1:00 PM and then
                  T-Mobile from 1:30 PM until 9:00 PM

Saturday was: Best Buy from 7:00 AM until 10:00 AM and then
                    T-Mobile from 11:00 AM until 8:00 PM

Today is: Sunday.
And also: Best Buy from 7:00 AM until 10:00 AM and then
               T-Mobile from 10:30 AM until 5:30 PM

Tomorrow is a day of sweet, sweet freedom. Either tomorrow or Thursday I may be partaking on a Lakefront Brewery Tour. They're running every day during Summerfest and I've heard some good things about them. I also seem to have acquired around 13 tour glasses. Is that enough? We think not. If anyone would like to accompany me in some light brew sampling on either of these occasions--speak up. There's no guarantee that I'm going either day, but I have The Ability, The Means, and The Know-How and it very well may take place.

The other day a customer came into T-Mobile looking to possibly jump onto his sister's account when his current contract is up. She pointed out that he and I had the same name. He said I was the second other Landon he's met before. Awkwardly enough he doesn't seem to realize bearing the name Landon is like being a highlander. As such--their fates are sealed.

Last night Chris had a shindig. A soiree. A gleeful jamboree. If anyone calls me on it I'm passing those off as his words. He may not have spoken them--but he meant to. It was a good, short-lived time. Those two descriptive words may not be entirely unrelated. It was a little on the loud side. And crowded. Well, it happens. It happened. It's happening. I'm of the impression now that the party I was expecting--and would prefer--is actually the sort of non-party that happens weekly--if not moreso--at Chris's place of residence. If that's the case maybe I should just show up randomly with beer a bit more often. Like at 3 am on a Wednesday Night, with a ski mask. Also: Bitter End Pale Ale. Lest we not forget the important things. I only was able to stick around for two hours, but I did manage to empty and re-fill my plastic cup a few times, which is pretty much my definition of success. Also: I urinated in his stove. I didn't actually, but if any of the 53rd Street Party Star Contenders read this I can only hope I'm giving them at least slight pause to reflect. In the greatest outcome this would be followed by a reluctant outbreaking of the soap n' suds and, yea, something that scrubs. Suckers.

I also bought Futurama this week for $14.99. I failed, however, to purchase Napoleon Dynamite or Office Space for $5. I'm a tad bit irked. At least the M&M's threw down on those, so they are around for the next 5-6 weeks. 4th of July found my inventory newly stocked with the entire Spielberg' Taken miniseries. I haven't seen a frame of this and it isn't the sort of thing that usually captures my attention. But the price was right (like $15 used when it usually goes for around $80) and I've heard good things. Also added to the collection: London and Eros. And two others things. I'm forgetful.

--side note: In looking up what the name was for Taken, since it escaped me, I came across the fact that Spielberg is currently filming the live-action Transformers movie. Huh. I hope he doesn't fuck it up, Decepticons are deep, deep characters. Starscream? He's like Jesus.--

Last on my agenda: I'm hooked on Deadwood right now. It's really fucking good. Like my reservations about the Taken sci-fi factor, Western usually ain't my thang. But I kept hearing musings on it and I grabbed the first disc from Family Video. 8 eps in and it's easily one of the most captivating shows I've seen in a while. The current shows I'm trying to make my way through (Farscape, 24, West Wing) are good and hold my attention, don't get me wrong, but Farscape has its fair share of predictable and/or god-awful episodes and I haven't bothered to even consider resuming 24 or West Wing in months. I keep trying to opt against it but once I weigh the option of Deadwood versus anything else... well, it's like trying not to drop a large stack of anything once you've pictured the decline and the aftermath. The characters and events are the first in a long while that don't leave me with a feeling like I've seen them before.

I am now Five and a Half hours in with Five hours to go. Ugh. I don't know if I'd like it to be busy and productive or if I'd like to just sit and stare at my hand for the day. I may have more words later. It's happened before.

This is all quite temporary. I've been rummaging and I came across some scraps. This is something very Pahlaniuk-esque that I jotted down at some point in the past couple years and forgot about. Out of boredom I'm putting it up here for a short while:

***

            If you want to meet people-- do something bad.
            No kidding.
            To meet someone in another car while driving in traffic? Get ahead of them on the left side and hit them. Apologize profusely for not checking the blind spot. It helps to if this occurs during daytime and not during rush hour traffic. People are less likely to be headed somewhere in a hurry--like to or from work--if its 2:15 in the afternoon. And with less traffic there's less of an embarrassment factor, people don't feel self-conscious.
            If you hit someone from directly behind or just the tail of their car they're 70% more likely to just drive away and pretend nothing happened. If they do pull over and stop they never say its okay, it happens. They just think you're an idiot.
            It helps if there's another person in the car with them, but if this someone is of the opposite sex you run the risk of wasting your time.
            Don't do this at over 20 miles an hour. Any more and the impact is 60% more likely to cause more than just superficial damage. Plus you always run the risk that the driver will reflexively pull away and if this is in the city you may accidentally cause a case of vehicular manslaughter.
            If this occurs you are best off to just keep driving. Everyone will be staring at the car that actually hit the person and you'll find yourself 98% more likely to go unnoticed.
            Hit at less than a 45-degree angle. That area between your back right bumper and back right tire should be the point of collision. Aim for the corner of their car by the left headlight. Make sure you do the impacting. All of this will provide the cheapest and safest damage. You shouldn't have to do any more to repair your car than apply surface paint. For their car the worst case is usually a busted light.
            This is all damage control.
            75% of the time they will be calm. Polite. Re-assuring.
            This is more than statistics; more than science and numbers. This is experience talking here. Experience tells me that 3 out of every 4 women I sideline will get out of the car with a smile on their face. 6 out of every 8 will be laughing at the situation. Scratch your head, look embarrassed. Don't look panicked or rushed.
            This is where you exchange information. A quick jerk of the wheel to the right and you have a face. A name. A phone number. A first impression as a nice guy who slipped up.
            This is less costly than going out to a club. You don't spend hours looking for someone as desperate as yourself.
            If you get one of those 3 out of 12 girls who are angry- it's no problem. Be late for an important meeting. Give them an important name. More important than your real one. Quick and clean.
            The other 12 out of 15? Promise to take care of the damage, no matter how minor. Insist upon it. Offer to buy them a drink to apologize. Insist upon it. In these situations it's best to ask questions without asking questions.
        Say And you were probably in a hurry too as a way of asking Where are you going? This is an important step. The response you get almost always gives you key information. Job information. School information. Boyfriend information.
            That last one can usually be worked around. I'll bet their boyfriend never crashed a car into them before. 3 and a ¼ minutes in and you've already got the edge.
            If they aren't headed anywhere offer to buy coffee, or lunch. The rush of adrenaline will still be present and they'll be far more interested in prolonging the experience than they would be in the creepy guy who keeps calling after the fact. Most people will at least see this as a story to tell their co-workers and friends. They want to get as much information as possible to add to their water-cooler tale of excitement.
            This is where an accident becomes an experience. A journey. An adventure the two of you share. You are already fresh and exciting and all for knocking the headlight off a 2005 Lexus.
            For serious, you can't get this kind of PR at your local tavern.
            Be aware of using this trick often: It might become habit. I've had to consciously make sure I didn't pull it twice in the same spot on any given week. On three occasions I've come close to doing it while someone was in the car with me. If this happens to you and the girl at your side is a result of said technique you can usually crack a joke about repeating old mistakes.
            Of course this technique will grow old; This is just the first step of a downward spiral.
            At the supermarket carry around a condiment of choice. Try to pick something trendy. These no-name name brands will usually have a flimsier packaging. When the target walks by either squeeze the bottle or drop the container with the cap slightly loosened. With any skill the contents will spray out over yourself and the passerby.
            It's important that you get at least nearly as messy as the person youre secretly aiming at. If not they are 4 out of 7 times more likely to get angry. If it's something that stains that number rises to 6 out 8.
            If it's a squeezable bottle and it looks like you slipped up because of the person, but on accident, that number drops to 1 or 2 out of 9. This is ideal.
            Apologize. Swap names. Talk fabric softener or whatever you can think of without looking desperate. I like to do a sweep of the store and grab one item to match each prospective candidate, then pick an ideal spot like the cereal or soda aisle and wait for one to happen past.
            Co-ops are the best for this. They notice the no-name name brands more and because its awkward to offer to pay for something in this situation you can usually ask to help carry their groceries home. Try to make sure they're shopping alone before you strike or again you run unnecessary risk. You can usually ask what Laundromat they use as well. Pretend to use the same one and act surprised.
            Claim to go two set days of the week, pick later times. Half of the girls that make it to this point have set days and times.
            Most of these usually don't mind if you offer to move your day up and donate to the laundry fund. Never use the words Ill pay or Let me. Always use Do you mind?
            Try to look flustered and embarrassed.
            Energetic.
            At universities carry around loose papers that look important and an earmarked book of choice. Make sure you don't bring papers that relate to targets. Bring medical journal clippings to law schools; historical case minutes to art wings.
            The trick is to aim for Sophomores or Juniors. If you hit a grad student they will be far too interested in what knowledge you actually have. If you hit a Freshman they usually are too insecure yet to go for the bait. 13 out of 15 University Freshman feel insecure when confronted with a student who knows what they're doing. You're not, and you don't, but they don't know this. Partially that should make you feel good because it means your disguise is working.
            On airplanes don't bring a carry-on that you can't fit on your person. Use the restroom shortly after takeoff and forget where your seat is. Explain to the stewardess that you're terribly embarrassed at the situation but seem to have misplaced your ticket stub. Half of the time they will give you the pick of the litter for seats and you can look for that attractive somebody who looks approachable. If they aren't approachable you can usually find out quickly and pick again.
            The other half of the time you'll be set in a guaranteed vacant spot that just happens to be near the queuing area for the attendants. They keep these areas sparse to help cut down on passengers overhearing talk about the flight and possible issues that may arise. 65% of the time this will result in extra attention from the employee who helped you.
            Pick a flight that is arriving somewhere between 1:30 and 2:30 in the morning. Airline attendants usually dont fly back out for at least two hours when they arrive at these times and will usually be more than happy to accept a drink from you for all their help. It's easy to talk to stewardesses. The two consistencies they all share is loneliness and travel. It's easy to talk to lonely people about travel.
            These are all quick, easy guarantees to meet people. Whether youre looking for a friend or a screw, a story or whatever you can think of that you want from people--these are surefire techniques.
            This is how it started for me.
            I wasn't always a monster.
            At a Convenience Store get caught by the shopgirl pocketing something. Claim to be a recovering kleptomaniac and that you for real do it without even noticing. Use conversation with the excuse that you're new to the area and if you know the people youll be interacting with you're much less likely to swipe.
            Needless to say the techniques these can lead to can get a little extreme. We're talking deception here. We're talking lies and seduction. Manipulation.
            You may have to work at this.
            At the Music Shop drop casual comments about your local band and bring blank demo tapes. Claim later that there was a recording issue.
            It may not come as easy for you as it did for me.
            Deactivate the smoke detector in your apartment building by a back entrance and start a small fire near your attractive neighbor's apartment. It's best if you call the fire department in advance to stop this one from getting out of control. Spray a perimeter around the carpet, walls and ceiling with non-flammable contact adhesive. Coat the carpet inside this perimeter with light amounts of rubbing alcohol. When you start the fire it should be menacing but not spread past the protective layer. Be the hero that refuses to leave without saving the girl.          
            I mean, I'm a Doctor. Deceit and manipulation are second nature for me.
            Your average grocery-bagger doesn't have the resources to buy flights to spend a Friday night. Your average student can't handle his own major, let alone fake mastery of another.
            You can always scale it back a bit: At the Bookstore spill coffee on someones book at the café.
            Keep this mantra in mind: Practice makes perfect.
            Frequent Cosmetic Surgeon waiting rooms and tell the waiting patients that your agent is altering your chin for your new pilot.
            All you have to do is not tell the truth.
            Check thrift stores for slightly worn polo shirts that have Yacht Club insignia still intact. Starch, bleach and air dry to make like new and have lunch alone at places that require appointments while you wear it. Sit near the bar. Forget your wallet. Bartender, Waitress or Attendee- the angle's always there.
            It only gets easier over time.
            I make appointments to dozens of different restaurants under dozens of aliases every week, just to be prepared.
            If you dont want to be like me just stop reading right now.
            Its all organized and cross-referenced in my address book.
            At the Video Store grab an independent film and claim to be the gaffer. Nobody ever knows what the gaffer does and if you name-drop enough they never ask.
            For serious- get out while you can.
            Don't say I didn't warn you.

****

There was another section down but it pretty quickly jumped to a darker place than I wanted it to go and I never bothered to rectify the problem or expound. Eh. Spring cleaning. Of a sort.

I keep getting taunted by the sounds of the ice cream truck driving around our house, and the urge I have to go running outside to stop it is... difficult to control. Like Teen Wolf. So the other day when I got back from work to find it parked right fucking there? I grabbed Mike and Maya from the garage, asked if they had souls, and then forced them to prove it by coming with me to throw down on ice-cold awesomeness.

This is me pissed that the likeness of my Danny Phantom dilla was nowhere near as advertised. Those bastards! For good measure I also had a backpack and a Ninteno DS.




The only thing that made me feel a little better was the fact that at least I wasn't Maya.




Sucker! That'd be the remnants of her popsicle on the ground.

Moral of the story: Popsicles are awesome, but those ice-cream truck folk are devious sonnuvabitches.

Thank you, MySpace, for getting the word out. It's true: I did allow myself to age a bit more than when most of you last saw me. Now when I fill out forms and MySpace surveys I can't just hit that "2" key twice, real fast-like. No-now I have to stop and think for a moment. Lucky for me "3" is right after 2. Check that shit out! Next year it might start getting difficult.

By all rights I should be worrying about grad school next year. Instead I'm worrying about getting back in and finishing these first few years off. Whoops. Someone fucked up. Someone fucked up real bad.

Mike and Maya were given the day off at random on my birthday (Can you say Birthday Miracle? I bet you can.), so they acted as proxy for the missing parents. I had already told my parents if they were coming to town to make it quick and painless--I had drinking to do. My mom was going to break my sister out of Summer School and come hit the IMAX or Zoo but they both fell "ill" and couldn't follow through. As such: Mike and Maya action.

We kicked off the drinking at Rock Bottom at 4, hitting up the beer sampler and then each grabbing a glass after that. I had crab cakes, which thoroughly reminded me that I have a problem with eating developed animals, but I said Fuck you to myself succesfully and enjoyed that shit. The Portobello Mushroom sandwich proved to be too much nourishment and I had to stop halfway through so as to not take up room that could store alcohol. After that we walked to Grand Ave and all bought badass Matrix shades (About $9 each) and then continued on to Wolski's.

Some douchebag guy was running Wolski's, never seen him before, and it was the first time in a long time that I've not only had me ID checked at Wolski's but he actually asked me a couple questions about it. I didn't feel like taking a birthday shot from that guy so we grabbed a pitcher of spotted cow, shot pool and darts and waited around, I was hoping Tony/Bernie/Casey/John might show up before we took off but no-go.

We then went and kicked off the Leine's Lodge Pitcher n' Pizza action. Steve Holland was the first on the scene, followed by Aaron, followed by Adam, followed by Jake and Megan. Mark grabbed a seat for a while, and some other girl was there too, didn't really pay attention to who she was. Polish Julie was there at a separate table, I inadvertantly ignored her for a solid hour before I realized she was there and had said hey as we walked in. Pitchers n' Pizza are consumed, I start getting shots. Mike bought me a car bomb, Aaron got me a shot of Jameson and Level-44. I think there may have been one more shot involved, I'm none to sure. At this point we rolled over to McGuilicudy's. I don't remember what I drank there but I'm sure it was delicious. I took a birthday shot that I believe was essentially a Three Wiseman shot, but again--not completely clear.

After this it was time for friends round 2, so everyone departed and Adam drove me over to the East Side where I met up with Chris, Mike and Candy down at BBC's. Jay, Emily and SS showed up here too, although I was pretty thoroughly drunk by this point. More drinks, apparently I didn't make it through my beer before we took off. To recuperate I made everyone run across the street with me to Rascal's and I took another free birthday shot. We then spun around and went to Live, grabbing a spot upstairs.

Then I woke up on Jay's couch, where I was filled in on a couple of things:

* I was pretty drunk.
* I may have dumped a bucket of ice onto innocent bystanders off the balcony at Live.
* I was very pissed that SS is moving to Illinois and I kept giving him shit. At one point I said So what, you're going to hang out with Joe, or go to Wyoming on the weekend with Jeff K? and instead of Illinois proceded to belittle the fine state of Wyoming for the rest of the night.
* I turned the light off in the bathroom on Mike and came up as if it was going to produce a hilarious, over-the-top sitcom response. It didn't.
* I really wanted Qdoba.
* I was pretty drunk. Jay and Emily said it was the drunkest they've ever seen me, and I can only imagine that means I topped last years birthday. That's right, screw you twenty-two. You've got nothin' on my current irresponsibility.

Thanks to everyone who made it out, thanks to Karen, Jay, Emily, Alaina and Aaron for making it out the night before for Corner Birthday-Day-of-the-Week/Red Room, and thanks to my Mom and Dad for fucking up their lives real bad 23 years and 9 months ago. Way to go, suckers!