It's odd enough to write a blog, much less one that is going on someone else's site. What exactly are you supposed to write about? Yourself? The host? The great deal you got at Popeye's the other day? (Eight chicken strips for $3.99!)

You're going to get stuck hearing about me. Sorry. I know, it's not fun. You probably don't even know me. I'm one of Anne's old friends from Mounds View, and we had AP Comparative Government together. We conveniently sat at the same table and somehow started talking about the short-lived animated series of "Clerks" or hair metal or some other obscure pop culture bullshit. We created our own rock-and-roll government to replace Bush and Friends; it was lead by the 3Bs of rock: Bowie, Bruce (Springsteen) and Bono. We gave hilarious nicknames and created rifts and ate jelly beans and created Special Interest Group Twister and didn't pay attention in class, except during especially amusing Circle Times. We were Pinky and the Brain, except that we were either both (occasionally) geniuses or we were both (usually) idiots. Narf.

ANYWAY, that's how I got here. Right now, I'm a freshman at DePaul University. The White Sox have just won their first pennant in 88 years, and I am the happiest person alive, after Jermaine Dye. I've been waiting for this since the day I was born. As a fourth generation Sox fan, this carries a lot of emotion.

But I'm not going to write about that. I'm going to write about what Anne requested:
The pigeon.

SO... I stepped on a pigeon the other day.

Yeah, I know. How the hell does someone step on a pigeon? Aren't they usually in the air? Don't they usually move? Do you look where you’re walking? (I don't know, sometimes, yes, and obviously not.)

The real story starts back at the DePaul Barnes and Noble bookstore, downtown in the loop. Every Tuesday, I take the red line to Washington and then transfer to the blue line up to Western to go to my knitting group. However, I decided that I needed to stop at Barnes and Noble and buy myself a copy of Spin: 20 Years of Alternative Music.

I was quite pleased to own this book; so pleased that I found it completely acceptable to skip across the street in downtown Chicago at 6:20 in the evening. I skipped across State Street without any problem. I began my step-hopping across Jackson and make it there almost fine. There was a group of pigeons on the corner, living their happy pigeon lives… until I came along.

As I stepped up onto the curb, I firmly planted my left foot straight into the lower back of an innocent bird. It didn't make a noise, but something didn’t feel right. I looked down, and there it was, giving as much of a terrified emotion as a pigeon can show.

I immediately lifted my foot and looked at the bird with a deep concern. Was it hurt? Was it dead? Is there a veterinarian around? Who would clean it up if it died? Does it have a pigeon family it needs to feed? Was it three days away from pigeon retirement (oh, the retirorny...)?

I bent down to try and look at the bird. It opened its eyes and glared at me. It looked so sad. Slowly, he began to wobble away, and then flew a little bit, and continued walking with his pigeon friends. I watched him for a bit, and then continued on to Subway.

I'd go into the emotional wrought and moral of the story, except I don't really feel like it, and I haven't done my homework on a Sunday night. So just don't step on pigeons. You get feathers on your shoe.


to read more by kim, today's guest blogger, visit her blog for updates on obscure pop culture references that sometimes i don't even get, the hustle-and-bustle of knitting in chicago, and sweet-ass prose.

guess where i'll be on december 3rd, 2005?

i'll be in st. augusta, MN

i'll be at the testicle festival.

oh yes, you read that right. i'm going. you're curious. allow me to explain. the "specialty" of this festival is bull testicles, prepared to perfection (or served raw, i really don't know), served at five dollars a cup. i think they have rides and other non-testicle related paraphenalia. i don't know if you buy one cup, like at a party and just keep filling it with testicles. i don't know if there's a ball keg. most of all i don't know the provaction of such an event. heidi said she tried bull testicles once and they were pretty good. stacey and linda talked about splitting a cup.

ew.

BUT tonight i was watching some outdoor network and the "special presentation" was a rodeo documentary. they were showing all the cowboys talking about how intense it is and then a bunch of action shots of cow dudes on bucking broncos.

rough. wild. tough.

yeah well, for five bucks i can eat your balls.

not so tough now, are you?


to read more by renee, today's guest blogger, visit her livejournal for general snarkiness and most likely a run down of more testicular activities.

i'm not going to lie -- it's 7:30pm and i'm still really hung over. and i have to leave for my first shift in an hour. instead of talking about the great party last night, i'm going to try to stomach some food and let these pictures speak for themselves.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   




that's the only shot of myself i managed to get, so there's your gratuitous titty shot.

you guys were all super hot. i think. because i don't remember it real well.

guest blogging starts tomorrow.

hung over clifford out.

ladies and gentlemen of the internet and beyond...........



i have a job.

what? what? i have a what??

you read that right. i have a job. a real live job where i'll make real live money. good ol' frankie's tavern in superior has graciously offered me the gift of employment, and believe me, i snatched that gift up and held it in my grubby little hands like gollum. my precious... my shiny treasure... my job.

greatest job ever? surely not. will it pay tha bills? heck yes it will. will my ass get grabbed nightly by drunken assholes? absolutely, but i've been given permission to deal with it accordingly.

also, all the girls there are ridiculously skinny, so i guess i should start.... running... more....? stop.... eating..... cake...? what the hell am i talking about? maybe i'll be that "bigger girl," like alex m. on "laguna beach," who's not really big but not anorexic so she's bigger by default. what have i become?

anyway, if you're looking for a good time, come to frankie's tavern. chances are good you'll know three waitresses and two djs. or maybe just me.

regarding guest blogger week, there is maybe maybe one spot left. i have four confirmed bloggers and one "maybe." if you express interest, i'll oust the "maybe" and you've got it. otherwise, it'll be yet another missed opportunity on your part.

tomorrow will be devoted to halloween costuming for myself, kecia, and marisa. if you're going to carissa's, i'll see you there, bitches, and i'll be amazing. but not as amazing as THE QUEEN OF HALLOWEEN, as you will soon see. (damn, i wish that was my idea.) also, if you're partying on saturday, i will not be there, as i will be starting my first shift as frankie's tavern's bitch. in costume, apparently.

ps: this is officially my hundredth blog post. congratulate me or some shit.

what's that you see out of the corner of your right eye? could there be an asterisk indicating that the videos have been updated? your eyes aren't playing tricks on you -- i have updated a few videos for your viewing pleasure. (i've also taken a few off, but worry not, i still have them if you're dying to see jason bowl or pelowski run across the hall and attempt to terrorize the neighbors.)

the real reason i'm posting is because i've decided that beginning sunday, i'm going to do five days of guest bloggers. two slots are already filled. if you'd like to give it the ol' college (or beyond?) try, email me and you're in. if i like you.

also, zak sally has officially left low. i am very distraught. if you need me, i'll be locked in my room for a day. maybe two.

and because it's time, a weekly 5.
because i'm yet again on a foreign computer, the theme is "all the songs that don't suck or i didn't upload last time."

1. morris day & the time - jungle love (it's about time)

2. jimmy buffett - pencil thin mustache (songs you know by heart)

3. felix - bounce (n/a)

4. billy joel - a minor variation (river of dreams)

5. béla fleck - blue mountain hop (the bluegrass sessions: tales from the acoustic planet, volume II)

remember: if you'd like to be featured on anniemosity.com sometime next week, shoot me an email and get worldwide exposure. someone in france reads this!

applications for a chaperone are not being taken anymore -- the position has been filled. barrett chase gets the job in four months and twenty nine days.

ps: according to this website, anniemosity.com is worth $1,693.62. who knew?

let's take me off the pedestal for a moment and talk about how awkward i can be.

i went to target in my hometown today to browse. what else would i do there, buy something? as if. (i am such a cheap-ass these days.) so i'm looking at these really bitchin' gaucho pants that i'm actually considering buying, when all of a sudden someone walks straight into me. being the self-righteous bitch that i am, i was ready to give them what for, when i realized that it was a boy that i had a crush on in jr. high. whilest apologizing, he stared at me, trying to figure out if it was really me and not some stunning brunette look-alike. (i was really awkward-looking for the majority of my schooling... plus i was fat. and blonde.) i kind of smiled to alert him to the fact that, yes, it was me, and yes, i'm a total babe now.

he gave me a clumsy hug and we chatted for a moment. "duluth, huh? i'll bet that's cold," he said. long pause. "minneapolis, huh? i'll bet that's big," i replied. long pause. "journalism, eh? you've got to be well-read for that job," he said. long pause. "accounting, eh? you've got to be smart for that job," i replied. long pause. "you still play guitar? you've done that for awhile," he said. long pause. "you still wear our high school colors? you've worn our high school colors for awhile," i said. long pause. the uncomfortable silences and the abysmal conversation were physically painful. i suddenly wanted to hang myself with the gaucho pants.

he finally decided to spare us both the awful few minutes that were sure to follow and end the conversation with a "well, i should really go find 'herbie: fully loaded.'" i made some kind of sound that could pass for the language that i'm sure aliens speak, and he began to go on his way. i turned away, replaying everything that i had just said over in my head. way to bring up the school colors, i thought. i'm sure that dazzled him with your superior wit, dumbass.

"hey!" he called out after me. i turned around. what could he want? my number? a date? to go fool around in the fitting rooms? i was sure that it was one of the three.

"yes?" i asked, batting my eyelashes.

"you forgot your cart," he said, pointing to the ground. i made this chuckling sound while i said "oh," which combined to make a godawful gutteral noise. i picked up the red basket, smiled, and walked right into a rack of pea coats. i tried to laugh it off, but i was so busy trying to figure out whether or not he saw it that i tripped over a shelf of pants and ended up lying on my face in the middle of the clothing section of target.

i just shouldn't talk to people. i saw edie falco in new york city and freaked her out. felix probably thinks i'm a crazy stalker. and every time i see al sparhawk, i stop breathing and have issues forming complete sentences. maybe i just need a chaperone. you can email me your applications.

first of all, if you are involved in any way with "kiss me, kate," i want to congratulate you on a great performance. the "too darn hot" scene was, to pardon the pun, hottttt.

so low apparently played at pizza luce on friday, and i'm very upset about missing it. upset to the point where i grabbed dan sarles by the collar and hollered at him for not alerting me to this. i can't believe i missed it. i'm tearing up.

in lieu of low, i saw the lovely annie ragsdale at sir ben's. after consuming a lot of alcohol, she sang an impromptu song about being a vegetarian. i was able to capture two of the three verses on video (but believe me, verse one about the cows was the best).

why you should be vegetarian, by annie ragsdale
wmv, 2.31mb

saturday night, however, was one of the greatest nights ever. not only was it sir tony jacobson's twenty-first birthday bash at old chicago (where i've been finding myself more often, and it's not turning out to be a bad thing), it was also heiruspecs at pizza luce. and ohhhhhhhhhhhh man. ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man. i don't even know how to describe this show. except they closed with "jump" by van halen with felix (my future baby daddy -- it'll happen) freestyling over it and muad'dib jumping DLR-style all over the stage. and then i was lucky enough to nab both of their signatures on the back of my new heiruspecs t-shirt, although i babbled on and on and on and on about how amazing and AMAZING and did i mention amazing? they were, and i may or may not have made an ass of myself, but it doesn't matter because I LOVE HIP HOP and IT LOVES ME.

here's my future husband (it'll happen, i promise):


god he's beautiful.

also, as the bouncer was drawing a dead smiley on my hand, he told me not to get caught drinking this time. awesome.


so this is just a standard "this-was-how-my-weekend-went" post and i promise a better one is coming soon. i have pent-up blogging energy, and it'll come out more eloquently (or perhaps more coherently) next time around.

also, a big anniemosity.com thank you to carissa for carting my ass around multiple times this weekend. LET IT BE, carissa. LET IT.

i am a girl. yes. i like girl things like hair color and jewelry and shoes and not wearing a brown belt with a black shirt and christian bale. however, one of my big pet peeves is carrying a purse. it's rare that you see me with my cell phone and my wallet in places other than in the pockets of my pants.

so then naturally, i need pants pockets that will accommodate my cell phone, wallet, keys, cigarettes & accoutrements, et cetera. however, being a girl, this is a difficult task. mens' pants are so functional. they've got big(ger) front and back pockets, and then sometimes they've got those nice big cargo pockets. remember back when "dawson's creek" was cool, when those girl cargo jeans at the gap were popular? yeah, they gave us two extra pockets, but what the fuck fits in there? nothing. yes, i understand guys like to see every curve of a woman's lower body, but i want pants that are made for me, not pants to attract the opposite sex. if i wanted those, i would buy them from the Attract The Opposite Sex store, which exists somewhere, i'm sure. i want pants that work for me. i prefer function over fashion when it comes to my pants, thank you.

i don't want to carry a purse. guys don't, why should i? guys generally carry the same accessories i do, why should i be punished because i have a vagina? i don't want to carry a fucking purse and have to dig around for the things i carry. i just want to put them in my pants pockets like a boy would.

also, finding a pair of pants that fit you perfectly is next to impossible, no matter what your size. "hooray, they fit my waist! damn it, they're way too long." "these look great, but i can't sit down or walk or breathe." "okay, yes, i have big thighs, but my ass does not need this much room." "these are perfect length, but the waist is gigantic." i think the only way this problem will ever begin to be solved is if they start measuring girls' pants like they do guys' pants: waist x length. i feel that might bring us closer to the proverbial "perfect pair of jeans" that currently reside in the land of unicorns and leprechauns.


weekly 5+
theme: eight songs over seven minutes.

1. the white stripes - ball & biscuit (elephant)
-i think (i think) that this is my favorite white stripes song. yes. yes it is. well... yes. yes. i would still marry jack, despite his new creepy mustache and the fact that he's married and quite possibly has an incredibly pasty child on the way. this song is mind-blowingly good.

2. the beatles - i want you (she's so heavy) (abbey road)
-the thing about this song is the bass line. i don't remember another beatles song (perhaps because i've been having weird memory issues lately) that has a bitchin' bass line that sticks out as much as this one. my hat is tipped to you, sir paul.

3. jaco pastorius - the chicken (the birthday concert)
-the first time i heard this song was on a trip back to duluth from the cities. crammed in the backseat of koegel's car amidst all of pelowski's bags, i was ready to settle in for a nice road trip. pelowski excitedly tapped matt mobley on the shoulder and begged him to play that chicken song. "the chicken song?" i asked. as she tried to imitate the bass and the horns, matt sighed and pushed a tape into the player. and wow. i mean, wow. the song is too funky for words. that's why i told you my history with it. words? no. there are none. none.

4. lou reed - heroin (nyc man)
-when i was running in high school (before taking a three year and well-deserved hiatus) i would run to this song. it starts out slow, speeds up real fast, and then slows down. this is brilliant because it musically chronicles what a person would experience while doing heroin. i don't know the actual word for "being on heroin." tripping? buzzing? it's probably good that i don't know. god i'm so terrified of needles.

5. meat loaf - paradise by the dashboard light (bat out of hell)
-meat loaf is amazing. he makes it on to all these lists, like "the worst ____ song" or "the worst ____ artist." to this, i say "fuck that." meat loaf is so dramatic all the time, with his epic ten minute songs and the string section and awesome costuming. fuck you, kecia. this song rocks.

6. frank zappa - willie the pimp (hot rats)
-frank zappa is the king of bizarro rock. "willie the pimp" is the best name for a song and the best nickname ever for my step-brother. and, by the way, the riff is fucking sweet and captain beefheart's vocals are perfect. perrrrfffeeecccctttt. a special thanks to bryon "i work every goddamn weekend" colby for this song.

7. santa esmeralda - don't let me be misunderstood (kill bill vol. 1)
-i've heard about seven different versions of this song, and this one is the best, for sure. it may be really really really long, but the repetition doesn't get to me at all. i love it. enjoy, kiddies. (also, i can't find their official site, and not for lack of trying or creativity.)

8. guns 'n roses - november rain (use your illusion)
-i know this is a re-post, but that's because i know you're skimming over this. download it. please. it's just such a good song.
fuck you guys. guns 'n roses rocks. (i know barrett chase feels me on this one.)

in closing, please go see "kiss me kate" at umd. it opens this thursday (tomorrow) and runs for two weekends. some of my favorite people ever are involved, and i strongly believe in supporting starving artists.

also, i heard a rumor that al sparhawk is playing at the brewhouse and pizza luce on friday. someone needs to confirm this for me. i haven't seen sparhawk since june, and i need my fix. i'm jonesing.

i'm sorry, is there actually a song out there that includes the phrase "my lovely lady lumps?" are you serious?

i got a rather disturbing phone call from Ghey today, telling me about the black eyed peas' new song, mysteriously titled "my humps." i've heard the title of this song on multiple occasions, but i had never actually heard the song itself. the title baffled me -- "my humps?" what are they referring to? as an educated and quite worldly gal, i can guess, but i thought that i would wait and listen to the song before jumping to conclusions.

and then Ghey recited that phrase: "my lovely lady lumps." what the fuck? muhs broke it down and explained exactly what "lovely lady lumps" are ("boobies," in layman's terms). MY LOVELY LADY LUMPS. are you fucking serious?

this proves that the Music Industry thinks that as long as there's a catchy hook and a beat that we, The Public, can easily shake our booty at, lyrics don't matter.

that's all i had for today. god damn it.

also, if you happen to find a long-lost friend via anniemosity.com, don't be surprised. apparently that's been happening a lot.

i'm off to do very important things, because muhs says i'm a very important person. i am. it's true.

i realize that i am quite the young whippersnapper, but these days i've been feeling very old.

case in point: i went to a get-together with dave and carissa last night put on by a lot of the freshmen in the theater department. not only did i feel completely out of my element, i felt so old... specifically when someone didn't know who casey kasem is. i remember burying my head in carissa's shoulder and agonizing over my age at that particular moment. kids.

also, i've noticed a lot of CLASS OF '05 pride, which makes me feel extremely old. those kids are in college now? jesus. and by the way, on a slightly related note, i have a big issue with those freshmen on the facebook who have 38392039827 friends already. i had to make friends the old-fashioned way when i came to college, bitch. we didn't have any networking websites to help us meet those in our class. we had to dazzle our would-be friends with our bright smiles and sharp wit (and perhaps bribe them with promises of alcohol obtained by "the older kids"), not meet them online first and then try to fill in the gaps with the kind of personality that, try as you might, you just can't seem to capture online with your funny quotes and your favorite music. whatever.

well, after a long and wholly bizarre weekend, i finally may have a lead on employment, but this particular job would require a car. fuck work, man. i'll find something. yes, tony jacobson, i'll follow up on your lead too.

also, megan pelowski's french blog now allows comments. go! read! comment! for now you can.

okay, people, i'm freaking out. halloween is seventeen days away and i am severly without costume. i skipped the whole dressing up thing last year because i was answering "the call of duty." actually, no wait. i vaguely remember being in the taproom wearing pelowski's shirt and proclaiming that i was dressing up as her for halloween. but really, that doesn't even count.

being in utah severely crippled my halloween costume plotting. i was doing my thing, hanging out with the mormons, and i come back and bam! halloween is right around the corner. i realize that i still have over two weeks, but the grand scheme must be put in place so i can fine-tune it all before the big night.

when i was a kid i used to get really into my halloween costumes. i was snow white, dorothy from "the wizard of oz," laura ingalls wilder... my costumes were original and intricate and i always looked amazing (thanks mom!). even my freshman year of college, i was meg white: white pants, red top, and a long black wig that stayed on my head for a grand total of five minutes. (remember that halloween, megans? good times.) i love halloween.

so now i have not one, but two halloween parties that my presence is required at, but alas! i do not have a costume, nor do i have any ideas for a costume. at this moment, i have not gotten any good suggestions. i've been given the idea of being a vagina twice. ladies and gentlemen, this is not an acceptable halloween costume suggestion. this is a terrible halloween costume suggestion. (i also want to point out that koegel suggested i be the democratic donkey with a little bit of poop coming out that's shaped like an elephant.)

comment with your best halloween costume and maybe even a good suggestion for me this year.

in return, here is a stellar weekly 5. the theme this week is "songs with significant inebriated memories attached," as suggested by miss samantha scott, who is apparently gathering great worldwide fame, care of my blog. cheers, grrrrl.

1. melanie - brand new key (beautiful people: the greatest hits of melanie).
-this one goes out to kecia. special thanks to joel. good times after rocky horror #2.

2. trampled by turtles - codeine (blue sky and the devil).
-most recently. oh wait, there are no memories of this song because we didn't get to stick around long enough to hear it.

3. sly & the family stone - que sera, sera (fresh).
-summer '05: sarah, muhs, dave, grain belt, categories, and poker. beautiful.

4. ac/dc - thunderstruck (razor's edge).
-summer '05. did you know that ac/dc says "thunder" thirty six times in this song?

5. t. rex - ride a white swan (hot love).
-THE MOTHER OF ALL OF THEM. ahhhh... such good times. in order to completely appreciate this, you must see these pictures:







beautiful. you gals are the best.

i need dinner,
clifford out.

first and foremost, yes, it's purple, but i'm not sure if i like it yet. what do you think?

second of all, because i've been asked so many times, here is the official word: i am not returning to school this year and will end up going to the cities next year to complete my schooling. i will be living in duluth through the rest of this school year, though, so don't get sappy on me just yet. i am searching for a) a full time job or b) multiple part time jobs. so that's that. if you have any tips, please don't hesitate to throw them my way.

thirdly, i've been flirting with being a vegetarian for over three years now, and i've finally made the decision that i'm going to go for it, pretty much. in talking with a certain vegetarian family member, i've decided that i'm going to be 98% vegetarian. this means that every now and again, i will enjoy a pepperoni pizza with my roommates, indulge in the beauty that is mcdonald's dollar menu or taco bell's cheesy gordita crunch or applebee's buffalo wings, or if we ever get the opportunity to grill again, i'm all about a hot dog. overall, however, it's all vegetarian. so that's that -- anniemosity.com is freshly veggie. and thank god pelowski won't give me any shit for it this time around.

fourth, i'm severly cutting back on smoking. i'm not intending to quit just yet, but i have already cut back quite a bit and intend on keeping it that way. nonsmokers, rejoice! smokers, i'm still on your side.

fifth, i'm dying my hair again. i'm getting slightly tired of this dark brown business, but i'm not ready to go back to blonde. i guess i'm going to end up surprising everyone, myself included.

now -- to clean the bathroom! what a productive, self-reflecting day it has been indeed. thank you for joining me.

anniemosity.com -- the snarky issue will return next time.

there are multiple rites of passage. getting your drivers' license. going to your first concert. graduating from high school. having your first hangover. losing your virginity. voting in your first election. getting your own place and paying your first electricity bill. these are all things that remind you that you're growing up or maybe that you're just getting older.

there is another rite of passage that happened to me last night: being kicked out of a bar.

first of all, it is imperative to the story to know that i spent eight dollars on a ticket for trampled by turtles, charlie parr, and crew jones, all of which i was excited about.

the night started off like any other friday night that samantha, kristen, and i spend together. however, things began to get interesting when tequila came out of kristen's nose (which, by the way, i find utterly and completely awesome). walking to pizza luce was quite the lovely experience, complete with kristen asking for a cigarette to merely hold behind her ear, talking about the differences between "squashy" and "squooshy," having the sex talk, and discussing what would happen if someone decided to relieve themselves between two shops. we decided that it would be a bad idea to do so, and continued our journey to delinquency.

pizza luce was filled to its capacity with hip, pseudo-hip, and faux hip people of all ages, rocking out to charlie parr when we arrived. we got upset-looking faces drawn on our hands, indicating that we are not old enough to consume alcohol, even though we are close enough that we can taste it. these aggravated-looking faces on our hands should have been the first sign that things may not go exactly as planned.

lo and behold, in the middle of crew jones' set, while kristen was safely in the bathroom, samantha and i were ambushed, roughed up a little, and quickly escorted out of pizza luce. the walk back, or what should have been "the walk of shame," was equally as interesting, including samantha having a shouting match with a homeless man in a wheelchair on superior and first, and the beads of her necklace ending up all over superior street (which was actually really sad).

the bad part about this is that i did not get to see trampled by turtles or the other half of crew jones, and i basically flushed eight dollars down the toilet.

the good part about this was that kristen continued to do her thing at luce late into the night and actually got to see trampled by turtles, getting the most out of her eight dollar ticket. it also cements my status as a delinquent, and the fact that when samantha and i are together, there is never a dull moment.


on a separate note, i need to point out that pelowski has a blog now, and will continue to update us on her french escapades. please look at the links on the right and hope that you speak french so you are able to figure out which one is hers.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE INTERNET....

i am back in duluth.

shocking, i know. marisa and i orchestrated a grand surprise for my roommates and the unsuspecting patrons at old chicago last night. it was a glorious homecoming, which will culminate this evening at pizza luce, where i will be personally treated to the musical stylings of trampled by turtles. (of couse, others will be in attendance, but they're really playing for me.)

as good as it is to be back, the culture shock i'm experiencing is a little bizarre. instead of looking out my windows and seeing giant mountains, i see an intense downhill slope leading to a giant lake. instead of hearing people complain about the fifty degree weather being cold, i can't hear any complaining because the cold air has frozen my eardrums. instead of cringing as mormons approach my door, hearing their tales of the afterlife and joseph smith and the second coming of christ that apparently has already happened, i....... well, i sit here and make fun of mormons behind their backs.

i am glad that i spent my time in utah. it was a worthwile trip in many ways, but i cannot express my glee at the sight of my house last night. even though the airline left my bag in minneapolis and i was forced to brush my teeth with my finger, it's all worth it.

now i just have to find a full-time job. spectacular!

all right, let's get down to it.

seriously, nicolas cage, i understand that you're weird and wild and everything, but what the fuck is kal-el about? i understand that it's apparently the birth name of superman, but what in the hell made you think that it is acceptable to name your child that?

i don't know if anyone who reads this remembers my whole "i'll get nicolas cage to help me out because we're tight like that" complex, but i'm seriously reconsidering him as my right-hand man because of this.

why do celebrities think that it's okay to name their kids ridiculous things? just because they have lots of money does not ensure the safety of their child on the playground.

let's have a look.
gwyneth has apple.
rachel griffiths has banjo.
arthur ashe has camera.
jamie oliver has daisy boo and poppy honey.
toni braxton has denim.
ving rhames has freedom and rainbow.
damon wayans has fuddy.
michael hutchence had heavenly hirrani tiger lily.
frank zappa had moon unit one and dweezil.
penn jillette (penn & teller) has moxie crimefighter.
jason lee has pilot inspektor.
jonathan davis has pirate.
todd rundgren has rebop.
erykah badu & andre 3000 have seven.
john mellencamp has speck wildhorse.

some of these names are downright ridiculous. camera? pirate? speck wildhorse? honestly, why in the world would you name your child moxie crimefighter? what's wrong with jane? i think that is a perfectly acceptable name. or bob. there aren't enough bobs anymore.

fuddy is going to get beat up on the playground, i assure you. denim is going to come home with emotional scars. rebop will become a social outcast, and poppy honey will develop voices inside her head. however, i'm sure they will all get over it when their parents dry their tears with a crisp benjamin, while i sit here with my normal name and wipe my financially insecure tears away with cheap kleenex. fuck that. maybe i'll change my name to lamp shade and see how that furthers my career.


i guess i owe some sort of a weekly 5.
1. stevie wonder - we can work it out (motown milestones: motown meets the beatles).
2. john prine - sweet revenge (great days - the john prine anthology).
3. no doubt - bathwater (return of saturn).
4. ll cool j - mama said knock you out (mama said knock you out).
5. journey - don't stop believin' (the essential journey).

that last one was for mr. joel mathias.

ps: nicholas cage, if you're reading this, you're still my right-hand man, because, frankly, you're the best, baby.

in order to know why i am how i am, you need to know my family. i've never really understood that in full until tonight at dinner.

for one reason or another, my family likes to repeat things a lot. now, i know that i do that, but i've always thought that it was in an endearing aaron sorkin kind of way or in a way that emphasizes my point. well, tonight i came face to face with hereditary repetition. there was a very interesting scene that began when my grandfather asked for the russian salad dressing.
"the russian salad dressing?" my aunt asked for clarification purposes. my grandfather, who is hard of hearing, didn't understand what she said.
"the russian salad dressing!" he said, louder.
"he wants the russian salad dressing," my grandmother translated.
"the russian salad dressing!" my grandfather yelled.
"i think he wants the ranch," i said jokingly, reaching for the ranch. that was a bad idea.
"no, the RUSSIAN SALAD DRESSING," my grandmother said.
"RUSSIAN SALAD DRESSING!" my grandfather screamed.
"we heard you!" my grandmother yelled at him. "the russian salad dressing!!!" it was at this point that my aunt got up to get several advils and muttered something about drinking heavily.

that is only one instance of the ridiculous repetitious nature we have. perhaps it's because, like myself, my family believes that everything they have to say is so important that it's worth saying multiple times. my grandfather tells the same story three times in an hour. the second, third, or fourth time, it usually begins with a "...so yeah," and repeats the point of the story, followed by a few additional details, so as not to make the repetition frivolous.

i believe very strongly in repetition. one must get their point across, whether it's for emphasizing the importance, or just making sure you're heard. i see now that i've received this beautiful gift from my dad's side of the family, and i like it very much.

to tie in the subject of this blog, do not go and see "deuce bigalow: european gigolo." i know this sounds like common sense. however, if you mildly enjoyed "...male gigolo" and found "...european gigolo" at the local dollar theater, you might just be inclined to go and watch it. i promise you, no matter how cheap it is or how little there is to do in your current town, it is not worth it. i should have known better than to waste $1.50 on THE SEQUEL TO DEUCE BIGALOW. god.

i've had a lot of time on my hands in mormon city, utah, and i found a very inexpensive copy of "the essential journey." let me tell you, journey fucking rocks. and if you have anything to say to the contrary, keep it to yourself.

jesus i love shitty music. where did this come from? i say, where did this come from?

my family, most likely.


the winds of change are blowing pretty hard today,
clifford.