Zach Oooh!n
There's only two doors in between us.
Things; or what happens to a sound policy of not telling people about your pet peeves when a professor asks what pet peeves you have about the spoken language of today, a list.
10. Sweet Home Alabama isn't nearly as bad as the critics let on. Yes, it's predictable. Yes, Reece Witherspoon ends up with the guy who is more manly (although this is a sliding scale typa thing, since the "manly" man runs a shop that sells specialty glasses). Yes, Patrick Dempsey is said to be straight, when every indication in the movie leads to other assumptions. Yes, it has a bunk ending that doesn't make a whole lotta sense (i.e. Wouldn't one go to jail for punching the Mayor Of New York City in the face?). But, as always, a feel-good movie that does its job is always aiight in my book. Plus it's a Can't Buy Me Love reunion, with at least two of that cast making appearances. Mast Grade: C+
9. I have this class called Intro to Grad Studies. We started with ten people. Now, five. I cannot describe how hard it is to talk about creative nonfiction for three hours every week when there are only four other people in the room. Tuesday night, we chatted. Chatted. Spent two hours writing to each other on the computer, all of us in the same room. Six dudes, chatting to each other about non-dudish subjects. One of the kids, this hippy type who always manages to have crumbs in his hair (I know!) which is greasy and about shoulder length and always in a ponytail and who talks quite frequently with these long, pot-induced patches of silence and general lostness and who wants to be a farmer, last night this guy is so spaced out that he keeps signing on and signing off of the chat and every time he does it he lets out this yelp of frustration that can only be compared to that of what a rhino must sound like, cos it's deep but high pitched and he gets this look in his eyes like he's just about to explode and then he giggles and signs back on with some phrase like "What would God do if he were chatting with us?" that he has written in yellow cos he knows the whole chatting thing whilst I sit there frustrated that I can't watch the Yankees game (more on this later) and just keeping typing more questions instead of answers, until the professor figures out that he can't save what we've been writing, and we have to abandon the whole thing as if it were nothing more than a waste of two hours fifty minutes which, really, it wasn't.
8. Watching the Yankees and Angels on a computer screen where all you can see is text that refreshes every 45 seconds is actually quite exciting. Two nights ago I was content with the lead and was ready to chalk up an upset when everything changed after I didn't check it for five minutes, and I let out a guttural sigh of displeasure, and everybody in the class looked at me and I pretended I was mad at the writer who we were talking about, and it totally worked.
7. Watching the Diamondbacks give it away to those DoucheBags from St. Louis is tearing me apart. There isn't much hope for a team that bats Mark Grace in the cleanup spot, and can't score more than three runs in a game. Fuck all you Cardinal fans, still. You might get to the show, but there's about as much chance of you seeing a championship as there is Mjarcie not finding a fatal flaw in a beautiful woman.
6. How many of yous watched Senator John Kerry (of Massatwoshits) on Hardball the other night from the Citadel? If yer at all to the left of center, which all of you should be, I think we have a viable Democratic Presidential Candidate. In an era where all that matters is if you fought in VietNam unless both of the candidates dodged it (which, really, can you blame Bush and Gore? Would you be all bustly if you knew you had to fight in some war in some hot and wet land against some set of people that could live in fucking underground passageways that a toddler from yer fat ass country couldn't fit into?), Kerry will be the poison that The Democrats haven't been able to use since GodKnowsWhen. And he fucking silenced the crowd of overtestosteroned Citadelians (where even the ladies have hair on their chest and hardons for any type of violent conflict) with his answers, all the while Chris Matthews lame ass asking questions to the crowd and asking for a vocal show of support to questions (what is this, Junior High?!!?) that are so rigged as to be rhetorical. No matter: Kerry in 2004. No Green Party for me, unless Kerry doesn't get it, and then I shudder to think of Tom Daschle or John Edwards or Gephardt (Who is a Hawk of epic standing) or eekgadsAl Gore, who couldn't win a fucking sure thing in 2000, and now wants to be all hard ass and shiz. F.
5. I'm going to Hannibal, Missouri this weekend to see Mark Twain stuff. Also to get drunk and watch baseball games with Ry's brother in law, who is the only Cardinal's fan I know who doesn't make me want to vomit.
4. Hayden just put out a double live album called Live at Convocation Hall that is stellar at worst. Grumpy Canadians who make self-defeating gestures and jokes and write songs about burglars who break in cos they think the owner isn't there cos there's no tracks in the fresh snow and/or songs about men who ice skate to find the body of their dead wife and/or songs about that Susan Smith who killed her kids except from the kids' perspective. Ahhh.
3. The Cellar II is open in Downtown Normal. Monday. Night. Football. Packers Bears. Don't care if the Bears lose every other game this year, just please, God (given you exist, which I don't), let them win this one.
2. Friends is becoming the worst show since that Cop Rocks shit.
1. Christopher Hitchens, aka one of my favorite people to read even though he sometimes sounds like George Dubya's coke-binged stepson, quit at The Nation this week, mostly cos most of the left has been and will be always against war with Iraq. The fact that he would quit a job he's been working at for twenty years over this tells you things aren't as clear-cut as they seem. Let me say this: I'm against war with Iraq. Unless someone comes up with some conclusive proof. Hitchens says that the proof is there, but until they show it to us via a debate on national television (or, at least, CNN), I'm still standing on the side of the fence where no more young men and women have to die for oil, glory, and votes.
Next five: "Tell me why" by hayden feat. Julie Doiron; "eyepennies" by sparklehorse; "we dance" by pavement; "Can't you tell her to just keep being quiet as long as we don't call her a slut anymore" by mast fatt and the lane; and "strawberry blonde" by ron sexsmith.
in the stereo: Hayden
There's only two doors in between us.
Things; or what happens to a sound policy of not telling people about your pet peeves when a professor asks what pet peeves you have about the spoken language of today, a list.
10. Sweet Home Alabama isn't nearly as bad as the critics let on. Yes, it's predictable. Yes, Reece Witherspoon ends up with the guy who is more manly (although this is a sliding scale typa thing, since the "manly" man runs a shop that sells specialty glasses). Yes, Patrick Dempsey is said to be straight, when every indication in the movie leads to other assumptions. Yes, it has a bunk ending that doesn't make a whole lotta sense (i.e. Wouldn't one go to jail for punching the Mayor Of New York City in the face?). But, as always, a feel-good movie that does its job is always aiight in my book. Plus it's a Can't Buy Me Love reunion, with at least two of that cast making appearances. Mast Grade: C+
9. I have this class called Intro to Grad Studies. We started with ten people. Now, five. I cannot describe how hard it is to talk about creative nonfiction for three hours every week when there are only four other people in the room. Tuesday night, we chatted. Chatted. Spent two hours writing to each other on the computer, all of us in the same room. Six dudes, chatting to each other about non-dudish subjects. One of the kids, this hippy type who always manages to have crumbs in his hair (I know!) which is greasy and about shoulder length and always in a ponytail and who talks quite frequently with these long, pot-induced patches of silence and general lostness and who wants to be a farmer, last night this guy is so spaced out that he keeps signing on and signing off of the chat and every time he does it he lets out this yelp of frustration that can only be compared to that of what a rhino must sound like, cos it's deep but high pitched and he gets this look in his eyes like he's just about to explode and then he giggles and signs back on with some phrase like "What would God do if he were chatting with us?" that he has written in yellow cos he knows the whole chatting thing whilst I sit there frustrated that I can't watch the Yankees game (more on this later) and just keeping typing more questions instead of answers, until the professor figures out that he can't save what we've been writing, and we have to abandon the whole thing as if it were nothing more than a waste of two hours fifty minutes which, really, it wasn't.
8. Watching the Yankees and Angels on a computer screen where all you can see is text that refreshes every 45 seconds is actually quite exciting. Two nights ago I was content with the lead and was ready to chalk up an upset when everything changed after I didn't check it for five minutes, and I let out a guttural sigh of displeasure, and everybody in the class looked at me and I pretended I was mad at the writer who we were talking about, and it totally worked.
7. Watching the Diamondbacks give it away to those DoucheBags from St. Louis is tearing me apart. There isn't much hope for a team that bats Mark Grace in the cleanup spot, and can't score more than three runs in a game. Fuck all you Cardinal fans, still. You might get to the show, but there's about as much chance of you seeing a championship as there is Mjarcie not finding a fatal flaw in a beautiful woman.
6. How many of yous watched Senator John Kerry (of Massatwoshits) on Hardball the other night from the Citadel? If yer at all to the left of center, which all of you should be, I think we have a viable Democratic Presidential Candidate. In an era where all that matters is if you fought in VietNam unless both of the candidates dodged it (which, really, can you blame Bush and Gore? Would you be all bustly if you knew you had to fight in some war in some hot and wet land against some set of people that could live in fucking underground passageways that a toddler from yer fat ass country couldn't fit into?), Kerry will be the poison that The Democrats haven't been able to use since GodKnowsWhen. And he fucking silenced the crowd of overtestosteroned Citadelians (where even the ladies have hair on their chest and hardons for any type of violent conflict) with his answers, all the while Chris Matthews lame ass asking questions to the crowd and asking for a vocal show of support to questions (what is this, Junior High?!!?) that are so rigged as to be rhetorical. No matter: Kerry in 2004. No Green Party for me, unless Kerry doesn't get it, and then I shudder to think of Tom Daschle or John Edwards or Gephardt (Who is a Hawk of epic standing) or eekgadsAl Gore, who couldn't win a fucking sure thing in 2000, and now wants to be all hard ass and shiz. F.
5. I'm going to Hannibal, Missouri this weekend to see Mark Twain stuff. Also to get drunk and watch baseball games with Ry's brother in law, who is the only Cardinal's fan I know who doesn't make me want to vomit.
4. Hayden just put out a double live album called Live at Convocation Hall that is stellar at worst. Grumpy Canadians who make self-defeating gestures and jokes and write songs about burglars who break in cos they think the owner isn't there cos there's no tracks in the fresh snow and/or songs about men who ice skate to find the body of their dead wife and/or songs about that Susan Smith who killed her kids except from the kids' perspective. Ahhh.
3. The Cellar II is open in Downtown Normal. Monday. Night. Football. Packers Bears. Don't care if the Bears lose every other game this year, just please, God (given you exist, which I don't), let them win this one.
2. Friends is becoming the worst show since that Cop Rocks shit.
1. Christopher Hitchens, aka one of my favorite people to read even though he sometimes sounds like George Dubya's coke-binged stepson, quit at The Nation this week, mostly cos most of the left has been and will be always against war with Iraq. The fact that he would quit a job he's been working at for twenty years over this tells you things aren't as clear-cut as they seem. Let me say this: I'm against war with Iraq. Unless someone comes up with some conclusive proof. Hitchens says that the proof is there, but until they show it to us via a debate on national television (or, at least, CNN), I'm still standing on the side of the fence where no more young men and women have to die for oil, glory, and votes.
Next five: "Tell me why" by hayden feat. Julie Doiron; "eyepennies" by sparklehorse; "we dance" by pavement; "Can't you tell her to just keep being quiet as long as we don't call her a slut anymore" by mast fatt and the lane; and "strawberry blonde" by ron sexsmith.
in the stereo: Hayden
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