that's so balki.

2003-09-28T01:12:00.000-05:00

So I officially have a new freshman boyfriend. And, I'm sorry, but for the next few sentences I'm just going to be supremely girly and gushy and rattle off a list of facts that I know about him. Ready? Here goes.
1. he wears glasses
2. he has shaggy hair
3. he's a sensitive boy with a guitar. well, okay, i'm just hypothesizing about this one, but he definitely fits all of the characteristics thus far
4. he wears sweaters
5. his name's matt, my favorite crush name from back in the day
6. he's from arkansas
7. he lives in 228 glassel
8. he likes improv
9. he's friends with a short guy, who is always in attendance with him at said improv shows
10. he looks really cool
11. he bought a sex pistols poster at ye olde poster sale a few weeks ago
12. he looks like max fischer, which is why we cleverly call him max, as opposed to best friend number two, which was just too long
13. did i mention he was really cute
Alright, enough. I've been making dumb references to him all night, such as "Did you see her ring? You know who's ring would look good on me? Matt's ring." and "Man, those brownies are really good, but you know what's also really good? Matt." Enough said. I think I've reverted to a new low for junior high antics in terms of crushes. But he's really rather attractive.

2003-09-21T01:52:00.000-05:00

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

2003-09-19T21:13:00.000-05:00

Ahoy me mateys! It's ye olde annual Talk Like A Pirate Day, for a few more hours at least. I feel as though I haven't taken full advantage of the holiday, but at least I didn't miss it like I did last year. It's tough talking like a pirate. There are only so many phrases you can say, none of which are substantial enough to have an entire conversation with one person.

I updated to OSX today, and have been playing around with i-tunes for the last few minutes. Unfortunately, it won't let me copy all of my songs from my harddrive to the new fangled device, so I have to do them individually. It's a giant pain in the ass.

2003-09-18T13:37:00.000-05:00

So I emerged from my dark cocoon of a room this morning, with every intent of memorizing lots of Jackson Pollock slides and writing my Eva Hesse paper, when I saw it. I opened the refridgerator to see if there was anything of any substance to drink, coffee being preferable, when I saw it. It. Abbey's chore chart. That's what it's called. In colorful bubble letters with curly-cue designs around the paper. Needless to say, I just called it a day, went back to bed for a few hours, made up random dates for slides I had never seen before and said the most intelligent thing ever in class - "Well, it's not very interesting" - when shown a painting of some handicapped girl crawling towards a farm while dragging herself in the grass. The paper's not really all that important. I'll just add it to the folder of unfinished fiction stories and short plays. But man that chore list pissed me off. For the remaining weeks of September, and the entire duration of October, I am responsible for taking out the trash and cleaning the bathroom mirror. Alright, the trash I can handle. But the mirror? First of all, I'm short. Real short. And the mirror is really far away and tall. Really tall. Second of all, I'm assuming Abbey only thinks the mirror needs to be clean because she's anal. And there's lots of random make-up flecks on it. Raise your hand if you wear make-up and live in my apartment. Alright that's three hands...wait, somebody's missing. That's right - ME! So now I have to clean Liz's gross lipstick/blush/eyeshadow/whatever the hell else she puts on her face. I'm going to go finish watching the E! True Hollywood story of Survivor. It's saying the most intelligent things I've heard all day.

2003-09-18T13:35:00.000-05:00

So I emerged from my dark cocoon of a room this morning, with every intent of memorizing lots of Jackson Pollock slides and writing my Eva Hesse paper, when I saw it. I opened the refridgerator to see if there was anything of any substance to drink, coffee being preferable, when i saw it. It. Abbey's chore chart. That's what it's called. In colorful bubble letters with curly-cue designs around the paper. Needless to say, I just called it a day, went back to bed for a few hours, made up random dates for slides I had never seen before and said the most intelligent thing ever in class - "Well, it's not very interesting" - when shown a painting of some handicapped girl crawling towards a farm while dragging herself in the grass. The paper's not really all that important. I'll just add it to the folder of unfinished fiction stories and short plays. But man that chore list pissed me off. For the remaining weeks of September, and the entire duration of October, I am responsible for taking out the trash and cleaning the bathroom mirror. Alright, the trash I can handle. But the mirror? First of all, I'm short. Real hsort. And the mirror is really far away and tall. Really tall. Second of all, I'm assuming Abbey only thinks the mirror needs to be clean because she's anal. And there's lots of random make-up flecks on it. Raise your hand if you wear make-up and live in my apartment. Alright that's three hands...wait, somebody's missing. That's right - ME! So now I have to clean Liz's gross lipstick/blush/eyeshadow/whatever the hell else she puts on her face. I'm going to go finish watching the E! True HOllywood story of Survivor. It's saying the most intelligent things I've heard all day.

2003-09-17T13:52:00.000-05:00

So I think I'm going to be getting a music column. Again. Freshman year, when I briefly wrote reviews as an idealistic youngin who thought she could change the taste of the campus, one punk rock record at a time, I got letters about not reviewing the new Dave Matthews/Phish/typical college crappy band record. And so I stopped. I took my Death Cab For Cutie records and my big headphones and retreated into my room, where I could listen to my music in peace.

The time has come to unleash my music snobbery skills on the rest of the campus yet again. After all, there are three whole classes here who have never read a single review I've ever written. Although the girl that's the editor of the entertainment section already suggested the new John Mayer record for next week's issue. I'm doing Tora Tora Torrance instead.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, yet again. After work I'm going to finish High Fidelity while sitting in the Gardens. And then head over to the Deli, order some cheese fries, have a few beers and talk about music. It's going to be a good afternoon/evening.

This morning, I went to visit Ashley and congratulate her on her impending nuptials. I hate that word, by the way. Anyway, while I was talking to her, she got the hiccups and I suggested that perhaps she was scared. She looked at me aghast (agast?), as though she wanted to say "how dare you suggest I'm afraid of getting married at the tender age of 20!". Which I wasn't implying at all. I then explained that last semester, when I was struggling through the calculus class from hell, I would get the hiccups every day in class. And I determined that they resulted either from a) my complete and valid fear of failing the class, b) my utter hatred for the class/prof/anything having to do with numbers or c) I just had some weird medical condition that caused me to develop the hiccups at precisely 11:30 am every monday, wednesday and friday. Ashley didn't see the correlation and, now that I write this out, neither do I.

2003-09-16T23:18:00.000-05:00

So I blew off both modern and sculpture today. Yes, there was a quiz in modern and yes, cardboard me is due in a mere ten days and I still consist of nothing more than partial legs and arms. But I am not terribly concerned about any of this. It'll all eventually get done.

Tonight I also went to the Watson meeting. It met during sculpture, so my reason for not going was completely valid. At least for not going during the first hour. Anyway, while I was sitting there, listening to the inane questions of my peers, a thought came to me. I was the coolest person in the room. By far. Everyone there should have wanted to be my friend, but I would refuse them simply because they could not even come close to reaching my heights on the cool meter. Granted, here at ye olde Rhodes, it's not all that tough to be cool. But man, those kids sure sucked tonight. The Watson peeps should want to give me their money simply so they won't have to deal with someone who will inevitably go to law school. Or med school. Hell, even grad school for that matter. And according to that new Newsweek article that the entire adminstration is raving about, that's all this school is good for. Too bad I don't want to do any of the above.

2003-09-15T23:57:00.000-05:00

So I was just sitting around, calmly reading about Georgia O'Keefe, when I realized I had yet to post. So here it is. Perhaps I should have taken my forgetfullness as a sign that this contest and I just weren't meant to be. Egh. Or maybe not.

2003-09-14T20:56:00.000-05:00

http://www.makeoutclub.com/

I should really get around to dropping that writing class of mine...

2003-09-13T19:26:00.000-05:00

I should really get around to dropping that writing class of mine...So the last day to drop classes is officially Friday. Plenty of time, right? Well, see, I kind of unofficially dropped ye olde intro to dramatic writing last Wednesday, simply by not showing up for class that day, Friday or, I'm predicting, this coming Monday. The problem is this: the prof is only on campus between 9 and 11 am, MWF. Want to see him Tuesday? Forget it. How about a late afternoon visit on Thursday? Tough luck, sucker. Now I know 9:00 is not particularly early, and certainly 11 can be considered downright late morning. But I am incapable of dragging myself out of bed before 11 on days that I don't have class and have no reason whatsoever to be awake. Sleep is just too precious of a commodity to carelessly waste. Now, I could e-mail this guy right now, the second I finish posting this, but will I? Most definitely not. What will I do? Here's a brief potential list:

1. try to watch the part of "The Importance of
Being Earnest" on Gret-a's computer where Colin
Firth plays the guitar and sings.
2. help Gret-a straighten out her bike, since she
just ran into a trash can in her haste to escape
our stupid friends who like to go out to dinner at
7pm, as opposed to a nice sensible time like 9.
3. play with new happy meal toys
4. strategically place lawn gnomes in semi-hidden
areas of campus, where no one will expect to see
them but will pleasantly surprised when they are
discovered.

In reality, I'll be going out with Jamie to Molly's for margaritas. Joy. Bliss. Happiness.

2003-09-12T23:32:00.000-05:00

I finally got my computer back. Huzzah! But now I have no motivation to post. I'm on my way to the kappa sig party (!), and I really didn't want to write anything, but Gret-a made me. Thank you, Gret-a.

2003-09-11T23:19:00.000-05:00

So Pete apparently gave up the Watson. The second I see him, I'm going to hit him. Or possibly kick him. Whatever I do, it'll hurt. Then I'll give him a hug because I'll be glad to see him. And my computer is finally fixed!!!!! YAY!!!! Now I can upgrade to OS X and that'll bring me one step closer to the coveted ipod. I was going to write something really clever here, but I've forgotten what that antecdote was going to be. Alas.

OK. I remember what I wanted to write. Tonight, I was just hanging out on the patio with some kids, when Spencer showed up. Today is ye olde 21st birthday. Needless to say, he was just slightly out of it. Well, more like puking in the bushes out of it. So Jack showed up, and we said "Hey, it's Spencer's birthday!" and he went over to say congratulations. Only instead of saying 'happy birthday', Jack shouted 'Happy September Eleventh" and did a little dance. And that was when I realized it was, in fact, the September Eleventh. Ah, good times.

2003-09-10T17:53:00.000-05:00

This song was on a comp I heard today:

Whenever my life gets me so down
I know I can go down
To where the music and the fun never ends
As long as the music is playing
You know what I'm saying
I know that I can find a friend
Down at the roundhouse!

Discovering that was way more fun than hearing the Fraggle Rock theme song on my last trip to Nashville.

2003-09-09T17:23:00.000-05:00

Happy Tattoo Day! For Lars, not me. But happy day still.

2003-09-08T15:47:00.000-05:00

You and I are gonna live forever...gonna live forever. There, I've got that out of my system. I have to write yet another ten page scene for ye olde writing class by Wednesday. The prof wasn't too impressed by the Captain Cuomo scene I turned in last week. His exact comments were "interesting characters, but I just don't want to read any more about them." I thought writing profs were supposed to be encouraging? Apparently this prof missed the memo. I hate the abbreviation "prof," yet can't seem to bring myself to call the people "professors" or, worse yet, "teachers." I'm all about the first name basis thing, but I don't think it'll fly with the English guy. Which is fun because it rhymes. And as for the scene due Wednesday, all I've got so far is the description of something being "retardadly stupid." Or maybe it's "stupidly retarded." At any rate, it makes me sound like I'm back in the fourth grade.

Tonight's the first senior seminar, and I'm already behind in the class. Egh.

Another random Houston's story from Saturday night dining experience: We were waiting for our table and Greta started telling this random story from Spain about how she and some friends were waiting for a table for an eternity, but they ended up waiting at the bar where they drank many many glasses of wine, and then had a many many course lunch accompanied by yet another bottle of wine. That's just how they do things in Madrid, I guess. Anyway, then after lunch they all ate ice cream and fell asleep on the steps of some supremely famous cathedral. At this point, we were seated at our table, and attentions began to be diverted elsewhere, namely to the spherical sugar holder and construction plans for inevitable mini bar in the living room. So then, around 2 am, Greta and I decide to go on a bike ride and, while riding around campus and greeting drunken frat boys, she says "I never got to finish my story!" I, of course, thought the next logical part of the story would be the inevitable climax, where the girls wake up and find someone has stripped them of all their belongings and must wander the streets in search of a kind soul who will take them in, clothe them and provide them with a way back to their respective homes. What did Greta actually say: "So after we all woke up, we realized it was getting late and we didn't really want to see any more historic sites. So we just found a bus and went back to Madrid." Wow, I'm glad I waited for that one. No, really. I am.

And, since I am now entering my third week of computer-less-ness, I will be forced to write my scene in the dreaded computer lab. Where no work ever gets done, and everyone just inevitably spends all their time playing snood and instant messaging their friends about how bored they are because there are absolutely no other distractions and the computer lab dudes are Nazi's when it comes to being quiet. I could throw a party on the fifth floor of the library and no one would care, but utter one word about some website to your neighbor and a stocky boy with a blue backpack and snide expression will be all over you in an instant.

I should probably spend these last few hours reading stuff for class tonight. But I think I'll see if I can find anyone who wants to play four square behind the theater.

2003-09-07T21:20:00.000-05:00

So the Bears lost 49-7 to San Francisco. Damn I'm happy that football season is upon us once again. Last night I went to dinner at Houston's, and it seemed that the name alone attracts Texans from all over the state. It's like a place of pilgrimage or something. Last year I remember writing two papers about pilgrimmages, one dealing with those of the religious kind and one dealing with those of the Elvis kind. Guess which one was more entertaining? Houston's is kind of like Graceland - it just feels like home to some people. Plus, they had these sweet spherical things on the table that secretly held sugar packets and such. I offered a dollar to anyone who would steal it for me, but no one seemed to be in much need for a dollar. Alas. Those things are almost worth a return trip. Almost. They also have these creepy waiters/waitresses who all wear black and seemingly appear out of nowhere to take orders, deliver food, pick up used sweet 'n low packs, etc. And there were zero lights in the place, which enhanced the overall creepy CIA spy kind of a vibe.

2003-09-06T22:41:00.000-05:00

Gret-a's comp tracklist.
1. There's No Other Way - Blur
2. Rudie Can't Fail - The Clash
3. Troubled Times - Fountains of Wayne
4. Charmless Man - Blur
5. Save Me - Remy Zero
6. Einstein on the Beach (For An Eggman) - Counting Crows
7. Badhead - Blur
8. PDA - Interpol
9. Popular - Nada Surf
10. Perfect Day - Lou Reed
11. I Will Survive - Cake
12. The Shining - Badly Drawn Boy
13. Chick Magnet - MXPX
14. Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional
15. Battlescars - Ozma
16. Holiday in Cambodia - Dead Kennedys
17. Live Forever - Oasis
18. Street Spirit (Fade Out) - Radiohead

2003-09-05T23:42:00.000-05:00

I jinxed it. I guess there's always California.

2003-09-04T22:25:00.000-05:00

Everyone looks absurd in cardboard. That's right. Everyone. You may think you'll look alright, but once that sculpture of you is done, you look just as ridiculous. Your arms are uneven, your head looks pointy and your torso looks extremely stunted. Okay, maybe this is just my life-sized cardboard self-sculpture, but I think the same should hold true for everyone. And I cut my finger while perfecting my left hand, and now it really hurts. Stupid, stupid class.

In other news, I think London is becoming a definite possibility for Spring Break. But I don't want to jinx it. And I have officially thirty days to get together my Watson proposal, three days to pick a topic for the feminist theory paper, four days to read three hundred pages in assorted textbooks on ancient Roman class, and six days to track down Peter Blake's e-mail address and attempt to interview him about the Sgt. Pepper's cover.

2003-09-03T23:13:00.000-05:00

Last night I got in a rather involved conversation about Barbie dolls, the dialogue from which became the scene I wrote at 4am and turned in at 9 for my writing class. Today at work, I learned from Freud that because girls play with dolls when they're little, it means they automatically want children. Um, no. I played with Barbie dolls because my best friend did, and when you're six you don't really have all that many interests aside from your friends. And we never pretended that the dolls were our children, and we never pretended that the dolls had kids. Neither Andrea nor I ever had a Ken doll either, which would have posed some problems in the hypothetical Barbie with child world. I guess the thought never occured to me to ask for a Ken doll, but Andrea really wanted one and her dad wouldn't let her get one. But her mom surprised her with a Ken doll one day, and that was the. happiest. day. of. her. young. life. Really. Until her dad found it and threw it away. He was a weird guy. Anyway, my favorite Barbie was the totally hair Barbie. She was the last Barbie I ever remember buying and was also the first one with brown hair. Which made her that much more relatable to me, since I have brown hair. Clearly, because of that fact, I was well on my way to becoming Barbie and having it all - the dream house, the pink convertible, the camper van. Good times. The point of the totally hair Barbie was, as you can imagine, a Barbie with supremely long hair. That was her gimmick. And I think she came with decent clothes, but probably not. I loved that doll. And then Tyler cut off all her hair one day and it was extremely traumatic. Almost as traumatic as my parents giving away my dog without my knowledge. But the hair cutting thing somehow hurt even more. Because the doll wasn't replacable. Not that the dog was either, in a way, although we soon bought another one, who has been with us for ages now. But the doll was gone forever. My mom and I searched everywhere for another totally hair Barbie, but to no avail. They were gone. Actually, there was a plethora of blonde totally hair Barbie's, but the brunettes were nowhere to be found.

The point of this is: today at the thrift store I saw a brown-haired totally hair Barbie. And I didn't buy it. But I did get a rad blue t-shirt with a sparkly unicorn on it.

2003-09-02T23:34:00.000-05:00

so I get to post for Jordan yeeeeehaaaw... no I am not from Texas...although 2 of Jordans roomates are. But no happily I am from new orleans. Ummm what to say what to say. I have nothing to say. I am sure that if I thought about it hard enough I could come up with something clever to say, but I am not up to it. So I will say goodnight

2003-09-01T18:27:00.000-05:00

Today I celebrated Labor Day the way God intended - by doing absolutely nothing at all. Except for eating animal crackers and watching "I Love the 70's" for many hours at a time.

As a result of my relaxation, I now have to read a billion and one pages about art and feminist theory, as well as construct a lifesize model of myself out of cardboard for tomorrow. But first, I really need to see how the seventies ended.

2003-08-31T20:57:00.000-05:00

Songs I've heard in the last ten minutes:
1. Sheryl Crow - that Steve McQueen song
2. Sugar Ray - Fly
3. Coldplay - Clocks, which I can't really mock

Aside from number three, I forgot how obnoxious it is to live with non music snobs.

2003-08-30T23:10:00.000-05:00

Tonight at Guys and Dolls, there was this over-eager usher who seemed extremely anxious to provide everyone she saw with a playbill. Seeing as how the show was Guys and Dolls, I thought it would seem fitting that she had a bet going with her fellow ushers as to who could hand out the most playbills. But no. I think she was just an overachiever. Or maybe her fellow ushers didn't want to interact with her. Or perhaps she has some sort of disease that prohibits her from standing still and tearing tickets. But most likely she was just new.

I'm writing this during intermission (the show is, by the way, fabulous). The guy in front of me is trying to chat up his much younger neighbors. He's attempting to impress them with his fast theatrical Guys and Dolls knowledge - he thinks his high school performed the play and he's pretty sure Frank Sinatra played Sky in the movie. He's most definitely wrong. Well, I don't really know if he's wrong about the high school part, but he's most definitely wrong about the Sinatra-Sky part. Brando was Sky, Sinatra was Nathan Detroit. Sucker. Now he's moved on to engaging them in an extremely stimulating conversation about television judges. I have the sinking suspicion that he's going home alone tonight, and every other night.

2003-08-29T22:45:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to break into the fourth floor of Bellingrath. Rumor has it that there's random satanic symbols drawn on the floor up there and really. What Friday night is not complete until a few pentagrams are seen? I'm going back to my quest, and then watching The Two Towers. Fun will be had by all.

2003-08-28T00:09:00.000-05:00

Damn that was close. According to Greta's computer, it's only 11:56, but ye olde blogger definitely says that last post was done at 11:59:30. Back to Sara. So she was finishing a pint, and apparently had not eaten all day, and was in some stereotypical Irish bar (where, incidentally, everyone thought she was truly Irish, not just some American tourist who has an Irish background. People kept coming up to her and asking where in Ireland she was from because her accent just sounded to American.) when she had to go to the bathroom. Nature is, after all, prone to call at very inopportune moments. Sara had no clue where the bathroom was; Matt said it was downstairs, so that was where she headed. The bathroom was not downstairs. But Sara thankfully ran into a lovely Irish woman who pointed her in the correct direction. So Sara's hurrying through the crowd and gets stopped by an old Irish man who approaches her with the always-appreciated line of "So, how do things look from down there?" Sara is, by the way, super short. And tough. In any other situation, she would have replied with some quick and witty retort and she would have gotten that tone that everyone steers clear of. But this was not an ordinary situation. So instead she just answered with something stupid and tried to continue on her way. But there was more.

The sketchy old man proceeded to attempt to engage Sara in conversation, thinking that this next sentence would surely do the trick: "Are those things real?" Referring, of course, to those things that every girl has, yet guys are endlessly fascinated with. Sara just smiled and said "They sure are" and scurried to the bathroom. Apparently, everyone on the trip made fun of her (rightfully so) for the rest of the trip. But hey, it was her own fault. She never should have told anyone else this story. Except me. Because I needed something to post.

2003-08-27T23:59:00.000-05:00

So Sara went to London this summer. Oxford, specifically, home to Radiohead and Coldplay. Well, I think home of Coldplay. Anyway, the point is, she took a weekend excursion to Dublin. Apparently, the ride over to Ireland was the best part of the trip, as they (she and her friend Matt) traveled over on some sort of cruise ship ferry thing. I should probably mention before this story goes much further that Sara is something of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Last year, after I got my licensed suspended and she had to chauffeur me around, we went to the Blue Monkey and had one drink each, she a Corona and me a margarita. The second we left, she said "Jordan, I think you have to drive home." It had only been one day, and I was already driving illegally. At that time, I still kind of cared about the whole suspended license thing. This was before I thought of the consequences of driving with an illegal license as idle threats. So. Back to Sara and Dublin.

She and Matt were in some bar (sidenote: Greta has favorite phone calls from the X-Files. She even has a section of her X-Files video devoted to her favorite calls called "Mulder, if you had to go without a cell phone for two minutes you'd lapse into catatonic schizophrenia." According to her, the calls are very important to the overall theme of the show and it's not just what Mulder and Scully say to each other, it's what they do while they're talking. Actions do, in fact, speak louder than words.) But back to Sara. Whose story I'll finish just as soon as I post this thang.

2003-08-26T21:49:00.000-05:00

I'm way to exhausted to think of anything to write. I just have to remember to get up for a 9 AM writing class. Palmer 209. Not like I'll look at this thing tomorrow morning to remind myself, but eh.

2003-08-25T23:01:00.000-05:00

Today was my second-to-last day of summer. I remember when this was an exciting, jam-packed day - lots of time spent with friends and doing fun summer things, like playing truth or dare on the sledding hill or swimming in Matt's pool. But what did I do today on this, my second to last day of summer? Studied. For a calculus test that I will surely fail. And how will I be beginnning my official last day of summer? Taking/failing a calculus test. Grrrrr...

2003-08-24T17:01:00.000-05:00

There are already factions developing in our apartment - those who do not want to clean obsessively or put the big shelves in the bathroom and those who are happy to leave random things everywhere and leave the big shelves where God intended them, which would be in the big main room. Texans. Who needs 'em. Gret-a is making Sesame Street curtains out of some dang happy sheets. I'm debating whether our not to craft something out of my Ninja Turtle sheets, but can't quite bring myself to tear up my favorite sheets of all time, not just childhood. Speaking of ye olde Turtles (of whom Michelangelo was my favorite; he had a skateboard), I saw the new hi-tech version of them the other day. I had been avoiding watching it all summer, but got sucked in. Not half bad (it was all bad! hahahahaha), but still can't compare to the old cartoon. I really want to watch the movies. Perhaps Tyler will send them to me.

Tonight's the first cup show. 10:30 at McCoy, perhaps with special guest appearances by Kyle and Matt. Well, probably not. But maybe Anders. Maybe. Definitely Jason and John and Richard.

Last night, we got to the Late Show early and were peering into the doors to see what was going on. Run DMC's "Tricky" was playing, which is usually a good sign. Unfortunately, the show itself kind of sucked, so the music was not indicitive of a good time being had by all. Anyway, back to the peering. Greta was looking through the window and this girl came up and said "Um, I don't think they're letting freshman in yet." And then Greta turned to the girl and she said "Oh. You're not a freshman, are you?" Which was funny because earlier in the night we were talking about how we looked like freshman, more so than the actual freshman did (being under the impression they have to dress to impress and all that), and how we wanted someone to mistake us for one. But when it actually happened, the event wasn't all that amusing. And I have a new best friend, since my old one has been avoiding me. The new one wears green striped shirts. Which is always a bonus. Maybe in time he will earn the prestigious title of freshman boyfriend. But probably not.

2003-08-23T23:16:00.000-05:00

So as we all know, I have no computer. I just got home, and called Jamie to see if I could borrow hers. But I had nothing to say. Of course. So I told her to write something, anything, I didn't care what as long as she did it before the stroke of 12. And she wrote a beautiful post, boasting of my many accomplishments and how glad she was to have me as a friend. And then blogger lost it. Bastard blogger. So I just wrote something super-short. And now my job is done. And I'm off.

2003-08-22T14:13:00.000-05:00

Activate Prawn Power! My current favorite not-so-old-school Simpsons quote. One (1) hug and two (2) packs of grape Pez to whoever can name the episode first.

a few unfinished lists

2003-08-21T15:34:00.000-05:00

Gret-a's Birthday Comp
1. Burning Down the House
2. Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
3. The Shining - Badly Drawn Boy
4. Battlescars - Ozma
5. Radiohead song to be determined later
6. There's No Other Way - Blur
7. Mrs. Potter's Lullaby - Counting Crows
8. Perfect Day - Lou Reed

Textbooks I Can't Seem To Find. Anywhere.
1. Death and the Emperor, Penelope Davies

Favorite Mainstream Albums of 2003, Thus Far
1. Blur - Think Tank
2. White Stripes - Elephant
3. Radiohead - Hail to the Thief

Things To Do Today
1. Remove posters from floor.
2. Pick up random art supplies.
3. Mock the freshman dude with the trailer.
4. Harass computer dude to fix computer.
5. Eat dinner.

all the news of home you read just gives you the blues

2003-08-20T16:40:00.000-05:00

So in the second grade my school held a reading contest. Or maybe it was just my grade. Whatever. It doesn't really matter who participated, just know that I did. I really wanted to win this contest, and I thought I had it in the bag. I didn't know of any other second grader who read for fun and the prize was nothing more than a poster. Oh, but I was so very wrong. Let's start with the competition. Apparently, there was a boy in my class (I think it was Adam, but it could have been Joe. I kind of wish it was Joe, because that would make the inevitable flash forward element of my story way more exciting - little second grader, in love with reading, who grows up to sell an assortment of drugs behind the rolling rink in high school. I can almost hear the chorus of awwww's. But I'm pretty sure Adam was the competition. In case you wondering, Adam grew up to be a short football jocky type, who was actually pretty smart, and I'm sure is spending his current years in a state institution of higher learning while working summers at his dad's development committee.)So Adam also liked to read and became my main competition. We would get to school each morning and present our latest ticket (we had to fill out these tickets when we finished a book and get them signed my our parents to prove we had actually done the reading) to our teacher (I think it was Mrs. Vanderwoude), who would then place a star next to our name on the big chart. Typical, really, of any youth-oriented reading contest. But I eventually crushed the competition. I was bound and determined to win that prize, that coveted poster.

Perhaps you're wondering what exactly this prize was. Well, there were several possible posters that one could win, all of which were displayed in the hallway across from the office. They were sports-related posters, and I don't know if they featured athletes from all over the country, because I only remember two posters, both of which featured Chicago superstars. One was Michael Jordan - he was standing, with one leg propped propped up on a chair, book in hand, surrounded by a field of other books and a catchy slogan of some sort above his head. It was also "signed" and had an orange background. The other featured Jim McMahon, in a similar pose, except the signature was obviously different and the background was blue. Also, I think ol' Jimmy Mac was outside. But I'm not sure. Have you figured out which poster I won yet?

So about a week before the contest is to end, the posters disappear from the hallway and appear in various classrooms. The poster in your classroom = the poster you will win. I was highly disappointed. I had envisioned all of the winners running through the halls, shoving each other out of the way as we madly scrambled for the poster of our choice. Clearly, this scenario was not meant to be. I've always wanted to participate in an event of that kind, but sadly have never had the opportunity to do so. Well, getting radiohead tickets a few years ago was pretty fierce, but still didn't quite compare to my dreams. Anyway, the Michael Jordan poster was placed in my classroom, in the back left corner, right next to the star chart. When Adam saw which poster I was going to win, he made a feeble attempt to catch up with me, but it was too late. I, however, had lost my desire to compete. I had really, really, really wanted that Jim McMahon poster. I just thought he was the coolest sports star ever, especially when he sang and danced in the Super Bowl Shuffle video that I watched repeatedly. I had even forgiven him for phoning in his performance, as it were, since he wasn't at the shoot for some unknown reason. He was probably out donating food to the homeless. Or buying a new pair of sunglasses and a snazzy headband. I even forgave him when he decided to finish out his career as a Green Bay Packer - well, actually I just felt kind of sad for him, since he was reduced to warming the bench for Brett Favre. At any rate, I was more than a little peeved at finding out that I had won the Michael Jordan poster (which now sits in my closet, after hanging on my wall for many many years, until I ceremoniously removed it and replaced it with a Dead Kennedy's flier or something equally un-sports related.

The point of this whole story is that on October 11, 2003, this will be occuring in the newly christened toilet bowl of a stadium in Chicago: http://www.reunionsoldierfield.com

And I really wish I could go.

ladies and gentlemen, the track star has returned

2003-08-19T13:07:00.000-05:00

Abbey: What are you doing here?
Me: I live here.
Abbey: But I'm here for track.
Me: Yes...
Abbey: You weren't supposed to come until this weekend. Are you a PA?
Me: Do you really think this school wants me in charge of delicate freshman?
Abbey: No...
Me: I lived here this summer.
Abbey, slowly raising her right hand to her cover her mouth: Ohhhhhh. Wow, that must've sucked.

So the school is preparing for the arrival of the freshman (or first-years, whichever you prefer. personally, i think freshman has a nice ring to it, plus it reminds one of marlon brando and matthew broderick). This means that most of the trees have been cleared away, leaving no evidence of The Great Power Outage of Aught '03, thus allowing the freshman to begin their tenure here under the assumption that nothing bad ever happens within our iron gates and stone walls. But the library construction mess is still here. And, I fear, will never go away. At least they didn't paint the grass this time.

happy halloween

2003-08-18T12:02:00.000-05:00

Mates Of State Plan Giant Tour with Death Cab, Thermals
Mates Of "Great" just incredibly fucking sarcastic
[Posted Monday, August 11th, 2003 06:00:00 Pitchfork Central Time]

Brandon Dameshek reports:
If my fiancee and I had half the drive of Jason Hammel and Kori Gardner, better known as the quirky pop duo Mates of State, we'd have figured out a way to bank on our budding vows and perhaps pay for our upcoming wedding. Unfortunately, neither one of us can play a lick of music, and it's doubtful that our disposable toaster oven idea will ever take off as we'd planned. Still, Jason and Kori give us hope, and I'll be damned if those ambitious motherfuckers haven't already thrown down the gauntlet for yet another extensive tour.

This enormous trek will immediately follow the September 16th release of the Mates' new album, Team Boo on Polyvinyl, and will hopefully provide a return to form a la their debut album, My Solo Project. Who am I kidding? I would've shit brick for a decade if my lady or I'd come up with Our Constant Concern. Tracklist:

01 Ha Ha
02 Whiner's Bio
03 Fluke
04 Open Book
05 Middle Is Gold
06 The Kissaway
07 Gotta Get A Problem
08 Parachutes (Funeral Song)
09 An Experiment
10 Sound It Off
11 I Got This Feelin'
12 Separate the People

On the heels of their rather large European swing, which takes the terrible twosome through the end of August (as previously reported here at Pitchfork), Mates of State have already set the groundwork for a massive 46-show jaunt around North America. The dates from mid-October through early November will all be played with emotional pop kings Death Cab for Cutie, now that Ben Gibbard is taking a break from his popular Postal Service side project. The dates for these shows are confirmed but not the venues-- both Kori herself and the Mates' booking agency don't have that info solidified yet, but when they do, we'll feed it to you. Even if we have to stuff it down your collective throats! The earlier, venue-confirmed part of the tour will include bands like The Ladybug Transistor, I Am The World Trade Center and the Mates' Polyvinyl labelmates Saturday Looks Good to Me. Tour dates (note: 46 dates and eight co-headliners requires a ton of symbology. Stay with me):

09-06 Fairfield, CT - Fairfield University
09-14 New Haven, CT - TBA
09-19 Hamilton, NY - Donovan's Pub (w/ The Wrens)
09-24 Montreal, Quebec - La Salla Rossa
09-25 Toronto, Ontario - Horseshoe Tavern
09-26 Detroit, MI - Magic Stick (w/ Saturday Looks Good To Me) +
09-27 Chicago, IL - Abbey Pub (w/ Saturday Looks Good To Me) +
09-28 Champaign, IL - High Dive +
10-01 Madison, WI - Club 770 +
10-02 Minneapolis, MN - Tripple Rock +
10-03 Omaha, NE - Sokol Underground +
10-04 Denver, CO - Climax Lounge *
10-05 Salt Lake City, UT - Kilby Court *
10-07 Portland, OR - Meow Meow *
10-09 San Francisco, CA - Bottom of the Hill +
10-10 San Francisco, CA - Bottom of the HIll *
10-11 Los Angeles, CA - Troubadour *
10-12 Tucson, AZ - Club Congress *
10-13 Albuquerque, NM - Launch Pad *
10-15 Oklahoma City, OK - Green Door *
10-17 Lawrence, KS - Bottleneck *
10-18 St. Louis, MO - Rocketbar *
10-20 New York, NY - TBA @
10-22 Boston, MA - TBA @
10-23 Boston, MA - TBA @
10-24 Providence, RI - TBA @
10-25 Philadelphia, PA - TBA @
10-26 Washington, DC - TBA @
10-28 Pittsburgh, PA - TBA @
10-29 Columbus, OH - TBA @
10-30 Louisville, KY - TBA @
10-31 Nashville, TN - TBA @
11-01 Atlanta, GA - TBA @
11-02 Chapel Hill, NC - TBA @
11-04 Jacksonville, FL - TBA @
11-05 Miami, FL - TBA @
11-06 Orlando, FL - TBA @
11-07 Tallahassee, FL - TBA @
11-08 Athens, GA - TBA #
11-10 Gainesville, FL - TBA #
11-11 Tampa, FL - Orpheum #
11-13 Houston, TX - Mary Jane's Fat Cat #
11-14 Austin, TX - Emo's (w/ The Ladybug Transistor) #
11-15 Denton, TX - Rubber Gloves (w/ The Ladybug Transistor) #
11-16 Fayetteville, LA - Dickenson Theater #
11-18 Baltimore, MD - Ottobar #

this message will self-destruct at 12:02 a.m.

2003-08-17T22:21:00.000-05:00

So bastian is officially super sick. Is it odd that I have a name for my computer? I don't think so either. Anyway, the resident rhodes mac boy came by this afternoon and spent two hours playing with bastian only to emerge from my room and say "dude, I can't help you." Which was quite discouraging, as you may imagine. He seemed to be in some state of shock, as though this was the first time he hasn't been able to help a sick computer. But anyway. While computer boy played around in my room, I decided to unapck, primarily because a) I've been here a week, b) I'm tired of spending 20 minutes searching for thumbtacks and clean t-shirts and c) random roommates will be arriving all week and I know at least two of them will mind stumbling over boxes as they enter the room (hey liz! hey abbey!). Greta, well, she'll understand.

While I was unpacking, I discovered several key items that have gone missing from my belongings
1. Trivial Pursuit 20th Annviversary game. But I'm pretty sure it's still under the table in the old place.
2. My kick-ass pink and red striped sheets, which I am certain are now being proudly displayed on the daughter of some housekeeper's bed. Man those were super-rad sheets...
3. the blue weezer poster, my most favorite of all my posters.
4. My copy of Oasis' "Morning Glory". Again. I just can't seem to hold on to it for any length of time.

Last night at punk rock prom I ran into Adam, aka punk rock boy from the mug. Allow me to backtrack a bit. I spent most of my evenings sophomore year studying at the now defunct Ugly Mug coffee shop. Punk rock boy also spent all of his nights there, drinking black coffee in a black mug, either reading some german book or studying math, and constantly moving from table to table, carefully repacking and unpacking his cd player and various cds with every move. I liked to pretend that his name was Adam (score one for me), was a history major (actually music production), and had a deep appreciation for adult swim (no clue). He always wore black t-shirts and the one time he wore a plaid buttom up (or is it down?), he just looked completely ... wussy, I guess. Anyway, I ran into him a lot last summer too, usually at borders and the map room. But last night was the first time we ever talked, and it turns out he's been stalking the CK's over on highland. But it was cool that he was as cool in reality as I made him out to be in my head. Yeah.

I'm going to find a computer to type this one. Perhaps one of the fratastic boys across the hall will let me borrow one of theirs. But probably not. Bastards.

let the wild rumpus begin!

2003-08-16T20:57:00.000-05:00

So I've just spent the last four hours of my life assembling these shelves I bought yesterday. No task has ever been such a miserable experience. They wobble a whole lot, look kind of crooked, and I broke the cheap step-above-styrofoam back. But they're done. And now it's off to punk rock prom. Who needs a drink?

rudie can't fail

2003-08-15T15:58:00.000-05:00

Tonight i'm going to the candlelight vigil. I hope to see beaucoup de Elvis impersonators, as well as take lots of fun pictures on my camera. At least it's not raining like it was last year. And no, I'm not a big Elvis fan - actually, I wouldn't refer to myself as any sort of an Elvis fan, big or little. But the evening always promises some sort of amusement, and perhaps at least one story to tell the grandkids.

it's over.

2003-08-14T18:51:00.000-05:00

I wonder what song pops into people's heads when they read those two words. I can think of at least three, not counting the one that's stuck in there right now. Anyway, what exactly is over? The horrid calculus class. Finally. I rocked the final like a hurricane. Well, maybe not a hurricane, but definitely a gale force wind. Kind of. I turned it in and the prof asked if I wanted to stick around to find out what I got. Yeah, I definitely did not. I'll just constantly check online tomorrow to see if the grades have been posted. It'll give me something to do at least.

So I'm sitting here in my spacious, partially unpacked apartment and all I can think of are two things - man this place could use a penguin and I would really like a fountain. First, the penguin thing. See, I have this penguin. It's really a Christmas lawn decoration, with a cute striped scarf and blue hat with a white ball on the top. His name is, aptly enough, Topenguin. Yes, it was somehow named after Topanga from Boy Meets World. I was going to bring him back to school with me when I went home to see blur, but I just didn't for some reason. I didn't forget - he was sitting in my room waiting patiently to be brought back to Memphis - but for some inexplicable reason I left him when I left to come back to school. And now I really want him. I wonder how much it costs to ship a lawn ornament?

And as for the fountain thing...well, that's just really a joke between Gre-ta and I, relating back to her slightly off-balance roommate from last year. I just feel that we should keep the memory of Sandi (the slightly off-balance roommate) alive.

On my drive home from school, I was celebrating my newfound classless freedom by listening to the happiest music I could find in my car. Which just happened to be The Flaming Lips' "Yoshimi." Which can be pretty darn happy. Anyway, I'm waiting at the light at the corner of East and North Parkway, when this massive white SUV rolls up next to me. The windows are rolled all the way down, and the stereo is turned way up. Now, the windows of my small white car are also rolled down, because I must take full advantage of nature's air conditioning, and my stereo is turned up because 1) it's a really good album, 2) i'm celebrating the demise of calculus and 3) it's the only way to hear the music amidst the noise of traffic, wind, etc. I'm pretty sure the dude in the white SUV was not doing any of the aforementioned things for any of the aforementioned reasons. But I laughed heartily (well, I chuckled outwardly and laughed heartily inwardly) when he inched his car forward so my happy music didn't interfere with his obnoxious drum and bass.

That story got me nowhere. I know.

I used to have a livejournal account, way back in the day. I enjoyed it, but could never do anything "cool" with it, like change the colors and add pictures and the background and all that. Rob did it all for me. I miss Rob. I bet he would rock the template of this blog like a real hurricane.

and

2003-08-13T14:51:00.000-05:00

I can't figure out how to get the comments thing from the top of the page to the end of each individual post. Got any suggestions?

so i start a lot of sentences with "so"

2003-08-13T14:26:00.000-05:00

This Friday marks the end of my summer school calculus career, aka the kewlest summer ever. Ok, maybe not the kewlest, but definitely the ___ summer ever. Dullest, perhaps? And, as I know all you math fans out there are quick to point out (Jess, looking in your direction), I haven't really been struggling through real calculus. It's only been applied calculus. But you know what I say. Calculus shmaculus. I do not heart calculus. In any sort of way. But enough about calculus. Because by Friday night, at 7:30 cst, my math woes will be over. Huzzah.

At least once, every day, while I'm at work, I get blink 182 stuck in my head. "Work sucks, I know..." Now I am by no means a blink 182 fan (although I have seen them live and do own one and a half of their albums. I saw them the summer after my senior year, but only because Bad Religion was the opening band and I really wanted to see them. Yes, I can hear all of your elitist punk rock screams. "Bad Relgion was the opener! WTF!" I know that you're screaming this because I, too, was screaming the same thing. And the show sucked anyway. Which just made me feel kind of disappointed. And then Danielle and I (and some other girl, who's name escapes me) got lost coming home from the World and ended up driving around aimlessly on poorly lit back roads for hours on end. But we did get slurpees, so all hope was not lost. It's amazing what a blue raspberry slurpee can do to boost one's morale. Oh, and I own Dude Ranch, but honestly. Who doesn't? And I've got a few dowloads of stuff off Cheshire Cat and Buddha. But anyway. Back to the point of this paragraph.) So I don't really enjoy this band, and what little camp value they had wore off long ago, but I get this song stuck in my head all. the. time. And it's not completely annoying, just moderately. What song is it? All the small things? I think so. Is that the one where they're runnng naked? Or is it the one when they're spoofing the boy band. I should probably admit to the fact that yes, I do enjoy making the video. All of MTV is, or was during the last few months of the last school year, like a train wreck. I just can't turn it off. Well, I can, but I don't always want to. Plus, it's fun to play guess the VJ. "Is that Carson? It looks like Carson, but it can't be. But he's definitely from the Carson mold." Hilarity often ensues.

In exactly two weeks I will be beginning my senior year at ye olde Rhodes College. Damn.

so. i'm new at this.

2003-08-11T14:24:00.000-05:00

I really just want to see if this thing works, and what the layout looks like. More later.