Zach Oooh!n
We both know things never change.
A trip to Mjarcie's apartment earlier in the evening to drop off my Football picks (Cardinals, Colts, Patriots, Giants, Bills, Steelers, Falcons, titans, Chiefs, Chargers *big time*, Eagles, 49ers, Browns, Bears) revealed a pleasant surprise: Mjarcie's room, while not necessarily tidy, was, in fact, quite clean. Quite clean. Smell was nonexistant. This hasn't happened since Mjarcie went through The Change. Jolly good work, son! Also, Mjarcie has that picture of me and him from Halloween last year (have I partied since then? Have I?) that is up in the corner of this page which I was touched to see. Then I made fun of him for something stupid, just to play off my emotional reaction. What is this salty discharge?
Speaking of. I bought the new Waxwing record yesterday. I can't pin this thing down. It's emotional, that's for sure, but it's less so than Doucheboard, and there's an experimental feel to it that I can't tell if I either really love or wish to vomit from. There's this great song on there called "Colour" (I know, I know. that u bothers me too) that is fucking insanely awesome for 2 minutes, and it should end there, but they have this breakdown (note to all: breakdowns only work when they rock) and then the song goes on for like three more minutes, and the direction of those three more minutes is not necessarily bad but also not necessary. He rolls his "r"'s sometimes like a Spanish-speaking dude, which is original, at least.
Two things you don't do to Horatio the Hamster; or why I am no longer afraid of at least one variety of varmit
1. Never ever never ever pick pick up the cage without picking him up at the same time. For example, to clean his cage I have to take off the wire part that keeps him contained whilst he sits in the plastic tub. Usually, I take him out and let him run around in his ball. Yesterday. Yesterday, I tried to do it while he was in there: He fucking freaked out and charged at me faster than a frat boy to a Keystone Light.
2. Never ever never ever pull one of his play things out after you have just tried to pull out his cage. Bite marks. Sounds, even though he doesn't usually make any. Bad.
I'm off to Hannibal, Missouri for Saturday. I've heard mixed things about the place, but the company will be good, at least. At least.
Next five: "Everything's on Fire" by waxwing; "everything I long for (live)" by hayden; "jr loaded" by sprinkler; "mjarcie spends an hour in jail for being too damn sexy (what's that you say?)" by lois lane; and "john walker's blues" by steve earle.
in the stereo: Nobody can take what everybody owns by waxwing.
We both know things never change.
A trip to Mjarcie's apartment earlier in the evening to drop off my Football picks (Cardinals, Colts, Patriots, Giants, Bills, Steelers, Falcons, titans, Chiefs, Chargers *big time*, Eagles, 49ers, Browns, Bears) revealed a pleasant surprise: Mjarcie's room, while not necessarily tidy, was, in fact, quite clean. Quite clean. Smell was nonexistant. This hasn't happened since Mjarcie went through The Change. Jolly good work, son! Also, Mjarcie has that picture of me and him from Halloween last year (have I partied since then? Have I?) that is up in the corner of this page which I was touched to see. Then I made fun of him for something stupid, just to play off my emotional reaction. What is this salty discharge?
Speaking of. I bought the new Waxwing record yesterday. I can't pin this thing down. It's emotional, that's for sure, but it's less so than Doucheboard, and there's an experimental feel to it that I can't tell if I either really love or wish to vomit from. There's this great song on there called "Colour" (I know, I know. that u bothers me too) that is fucking insanely awesome for 2 minutes, and it should end there, but they have this breakdown (note to all: breakdowns only work when they rock) and then the song goes on for like three more minutes, and the direction of those three more minutes is not necessarily bad but also not necessary. He rolls his "r"'s sometimes like a Spanish-speaking dude, which is original, at least.
Two things you don't do to Horatio the Hamster; or why I am no longer afraid of at least one variety of varmit
1. Never ever never ever pick pick up the cage without picking him up at the same time. For example, to clean his cage I have to take off the wire part that keeps him contained whilst he sits in the plastic tub. Usually, I take him out and let him run around in his ball. Yesterday. Yesterday, I tried to do it while he was in there: He fucking freaked out and charged at me faster than a frat boy to a Keystone Light.
2. Never ever never ever pull one of his play things out after you have just tried to pull out his cage. Bite marks. Sounds, even though he doesn't usually make any. Bad.
I'm off to Hannibal, Missouri for Saturday. I've heard mixed things about the place, but the company will be good, at least. At least.
Next five: "Everything's on Fire" by waxwing; "everything I long for (live)" by hayden; "jr loaded" by sprinkler; "mjarcie spends an hour in jail for being too damn sexy (what's that you say?)" by lois lane; and "john walker's blues" by steve earle.
in the stereo: Nobody can take what everybody owns by waxwing.
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