Marc
Day 5: 2,993 miles, Abilene, TX
I think that my little brother (the one that's going to Hell (assuming there is one (which there isn't) ) ) might have given me poison-fucking-ivy - my least favorite of the 'poisons' out there. When I was about fifteen, I went to work on a friends farm, helping he and his dad clear out "willow trees". How they confused Poison Ivy with willow trees, I'll never know. Spent the whole day out there, happily chipping and chomping away. Woke up the next morning absolutely covered in red, itchy sores (and when I say covered, I mean covered (there were two places on my body that didn't get infected (1) my ass & (2) my feet (I had to take a fucking piss, and the house was a mile away, what the hell else was I supposed to do?) ) ). Found out at the doctor's office that I was allergic to the shit. Even if I walk near it, I can still get it. So, I wake up this morning at my parent's house, and I think that my arm feels a little strange (read - very itchy). I start scratching, thinking that a bug might have bitten me while I was sleeping - I sleep in the basement, so this was entirely logical. Go upstairs, pour some cereal, talk to my parent's, then my little brother (the Hell-child) walks upstairs w/no shirt on, and I see these red, blotchy areas all over his chest and arms. "What the fuck is that, Andy?" I yell. I'm terrified of the stuff. "Poison-ivy," he replies as he starts laughing. Little prick.
I refuse to review the show last night, other than saying that Saves the Day was a lot better than I expected, and the G.U.K. can suck a phat one.
I about pitched a fit last night when I got back to Kankakee and saw the Rolling Stone Reviews section. Jimmy Eat World was the first one listed (even had a crappy drawing of a cartoonish dude eating the world off to the side). 3.5 stars, which is alright, I guess, considering the fact that this particular issue had N'Sync on the cover. In fact, I believe that was the highest rating they gave to anyone this time around. But I digress. What made me scream were (1) the article reviewing the disc and calling it "emo...emo...emo". If there is one thing that "Bleed American" is not, its emo (did that make sense?). It's a damn rock/pop album. Hooks, swivels, and full-frontal assaults on one's ears ... yes. Pussy, fucking lame-ass "emo" ... no. (2) Lil' Romeo got 3 stars. How the fuck does Lil' Romeo end up with .5 stars less than J.E.W.? Can anyone tell me this? Besides the fact that I think it's horrible these little rappers are making their way anywhere near this kind of stardom at such a young age (ie-Lil' Bow-wow, Lil' Romeo, & Aaron Carter), I think it's a fucking crime to give this kid 3 stars & not give four guys from Tempe, who've been working their asses off just to get this last record out at all only .5 higher. Fuck critics. They can all go die, as far as I'm concerned.
Day 5: 2,993 miles, Abilene, TX
I think that my little brother (the one that's going to Hell (assuming there is one (which there isn't) ) ) might have given me poison-fucking-ivy - my least favorite of the 'poisons' out there. When I was about fifteen, I went to work on a friends farm, helping he and his dad clear out "willow trees". How they confused Poison Ivy with willow trees, I'll never know. Spent the whole day out there, happily chipping and chomping away. Woke up the next morning absolutely covered in red, itchy sores (and when I say covered, I mean covered (there were two places on my body that didn't get infected (1) my ass & (2) my feet (I had to take a fucking piss, and the house was a mile away, what the hell else was I supposed to do?) ) ). Found out at the doctor's office that I was allergic to the shit. Even if I walk near it, I can still get it. So, I wake up this morning at my parent's house, and I think that my arm feels a little strange (read - very itchy). I start scratching, thinking that a bug might have bitten me while I was sleeping - I sleep in the basement, so this was entirely logical. Go upstairs, pour some cereal, talk to my parent's, then my little brother (the Hell-child) walks upstairs w/no shirt on, and I see these red, blotchy areas all over his chest and arms. "What the fuck is that, Andy?" I yell. I'm terrified of the stuff. "Poison-ivy," he replies as he starts laughing. Little prick.
I refuse to review the show last night, other than saying that Saves the Day was a lot better than I expected, and the G.U.K. can suck a phat one.
I about pitched a fit last night when I got back to Kankakee and saw the Rolling Stone Reviews section. Jimmy Eat World was the first one listed (even had a crappy drawing of a cartoonish dude eating the world off to the side). 3.5 stars, which is alright, I guess, considering the fact that this particular issue had N'Sync on the cover. In fact, I believe that was the highest rating they gave to anyone this time around. But I digress. What made me scream were (1) the article reviewing the disc and calling it "emo...emo...emo". If there is one thing that "Bleed American" is not, its emo (did that make sense?). It's a damn rock/pop album. Hooks, swivels, and full-frontal assaults on one's ears ... yes. Pussy, fucking lame-ass "emo" ... no. (2) Lil' Romeo got 3 stars. How the fuck does Lil' Romeo end up with .5 stars less than J.E.W.? Can anyone tell me this? Besides the fact that I think it's horrible these little rappers are making their way anywhere near this kind of stardom at such a young age (ie-Lil' Bow-wow, Lil' Romeo, & Aaron Carter), I think it's a fucking crime to give this kid 3 stars & not give four guys from Tempe, who've been working their asses off just to get this last record out at all only .5 higher. Fuck critics. They can all go die, as far as I'm concerned.
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