Two links for your enjoyment while I avoid adding real content.
One:
There is yet another person in the world with whom I share faint traces of genetic material. Meet Tucker at chrisandjane.com.
Two:
This, whatever this is. Turn down the sound if your boss is in the next room. If you’re the boss, make all your employees listen. I also recommend making your browser window full-screen.
I feel dirty somehow.
There is currently a feature on me in the Northwestern library publication The Lantern, which you can read if you have Acrobat Reader. The issue is (mostly) devoted to new employees. I’ve been at the library for almost a year at this point, but I’m still relatively wide-eyed and fresh. In addition to reading the article, see if you can spot the photo of my complexion and I posing together on the front cover.
Sigh.
I have whored myself: December 29’s Hey is now also available for view at hurmas.com.
Also, I have whored myself by sleeping with women for money. Boo-yah!
I just ate an entire column of saltines in one sitting. Mm-hmm.
My white blood cells have been so busy repairing my canker sores that they left the rest of me unguarded. Thus, I have been invaded by a cold of some sort. The white blood cell that represents my body’s Secretary of Defense has been sacked. At least I no longer have cankers.
I appear to have taken another vacation. This time, it is because I have been busy spending every waking hour playing Baldur’s Gate II. My character is a female bard named Alouette. Her primary weapon is a Long Bow +3, but I also have her equipped with a Long Sword +3 and several wands. Her armor class is a little on the high side, so I keep her towards the back of the party, but I have her cast Armor and that brings her AC down to 1 or 2. (She can’t wear regular armor or she’ll lose her mage abilities.)
However, RPGers are geeks.
I am so very, very tired. Also, I am very hungry. And dirty. I am tired, hungry, and dirty. And I have to go to the bathroom. And also I have a headache. If only mankind in all its technical wizardry could invent one miracle panacea that would cure all these conditions at once! Add canker sores to that as well. No nausea, but I have my fingers crossed.
Is anyone actually reading this?
Hello to you, my bonnie wee moppets. I have been on vacation all week. Not really. I have been throwing up. Not really. I threw up twice: once in the men’s room in the staff lounge at work, and again while I was cleaning up the aforementioned mess. There is nothing like violently vomiting twice in rapid succession to get the blood pumping and the sick time used up. I should not have drunk the Hawaiian Punch for breakfast that morning. That was a mistake. It is really a dinner drink.
To those of you who have been asking: yes, the Belly Twins are available for parties, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and the like. However, they are accompanied at all times by a very surly, very hairy bodyguard who is not afraid to use – nay, eager to use – his brass knuckles. So, think twice before getting grabby.
I hope everyone out there had a merry Christmas, except for those of you who are not of the Christian faith and celebrate a different holiday (in which case I hope you had a merry version of your own holiday; substitute “happy” or “nice” or “somber” or “enlightening” or “painless” or “painful” for “merry” where appropriate), and those of you who pretend to be of the Christian faith but are really just in it for the presents (in which case I hope you made out like bandits). After all, it is no secret that “Merry Christmas” is Greek for “Jesus Christ”, which is Latin for “Holy Fish”. Or something like that.
What did I get under my tree this year? Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Not enough of either, if you get my drift. Also I got a coat. It’s one of those coats that those Antarctic explorers use during the cold season. It will keep me warm and toasty through a temperature of minus five hundred degrees Farenheit. Below that temperature, I will shatter like glass and die painfully. This is all printed on the label. I have photocopied this label and filed it in my records in case any litigation is necessary.
Also this year I got a hat. It is green and I can wear it on my head.
Goddamn it.
I’m feeling pretty sorry for myself right now. It has a little to do with the fact that the bachelor’s life I have fallen into is unlikely to lift anytime soon. Seems I have rotten luck, as in every other respect I have more than a little going for me. If I may be so snotty. I’m a good-looking guy, after all. George W. Bush once said of me, or possibly of his nephew George P. Bush, “He’s a handsome dude, ain’t he?”
Let me tell you, my friend: they all have boyfriends. All of them. Perhaps not the ones with husbands. But the rest of them have boyfriends. If you are a girl, and you do not have a boyfriend at the moment, you are sure to have already had one for three months by the time I talk to you. Even if I talk to you next week. This law defies time in a way scientists cannot – and have no desire to – understand.
I’ve taken to watching reruns of the show “Unhappily Ever After”. It’s a weird show. It’s like “Married With Children” meets “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show” meets reefer. Lots of painfully unfunny writing and acting, but it’s just quirky enough to sustain my interest. I am honestly not considering Nikki Cox’s cleavage in my evaluation of the show. That’s but an added treat. Plus, Reese from “Malcolm in the Middle” is in it as a little kid, if you’re into that sort of thing. I’m pretty sure I also saw Jackie from “That 70’s Show” in one episode, looking ridiculously young. You see? It’s a veritable cavalcade for future stars of the Fox network! Why, maybe Kelso or one of the Masterson brothers will turn up in tomorrow’s episode!
Just one more day of work before my vacation… must muddle through…
Didn’t I say I wasn’t going to make this into a diary?
The only rule is that there are no rules except for this one.
Two Unrelated Stories
Yesterday, while I was eating lunch over at the student union, a stranger at the next table started talking to me about how empty the place was, and asked me if I was a student. I told him that I was not. I said that of course the place was empty, everyone’s gone home for the break. I asked him if he was a student. He told me that he was not. Instead, he was a campus minister. He then asked about the role of spirituality in my life. I just wanted to finish my lunch and read my magazine. Naturally, then, I talked to him for several minutes about my feelings on spirituality and religion. As he got up to leave, I was expecting him to give me a flyer or a handout or a pamphlet or some such, or at least say something about Jesus. He did not. It was a nice surprise.
Last night, I went to a bar for to partake in Karaoke night. I sang three songs. Then I left. I got to the el station and as I was putting money on my transit card, I heard the train overhead. I ran up to the platform and it was still there with the doors open. The doors closed right in front of my face. I tried to pry them open with my hands, but then the train started pulling away. I beat on the doors as I let go. I made a rude gesture towards the train as it sped off. Also, I cursed loudly.
It snowed so much today that I was sent home early from work. I took the train home and left my 1991 Dodge Grand Caravan in the parking structure. I left before lunch, and when I came home I ate chocolate and cruised the web and played computer solitaire for several hours. As a result, I have eaten nothing but chocolates all day, and I am so wired that I could push my hand through a brick wall with minimal effort. Or so I presume.
Tonight is the night, if all goes according to plan, that I will shave off my “beard”. It was fun while it lasted, but I am tired of picking fuzz out of it and constantly untying tiny knots. If I decide a beard is necessary in the future, I can set aside four months to grow it at that time. For now, I will be nurturing my moustache.
I suffered from several minor delusions today. Among them:
Fine then.
A few days ago I got the following message from my parents:
Hi
How’s it going? If you could, send a christmas list to us. We
ain’t doing much around here.
Bye
Love,
MOM & DAD
A list, a list, a list… what would I put on a list? CDs? DVDs? Video games? Books? Clothing? Small home appliances? Gadgets and gizmos? Wall decorations? Gift certificates? A new car? A new brain for my cat? A girlfriend? A new set of friends? Several 24-packs of Minute Maid Orange soda?
The two things in life that I currently need the most are a shave and a haircut. Two bits aside, these are things I can only acquire for myself.
I have a headache. Enough of this.
I did not get towed the other day.
ROCK ON, WORLD!
Nancy Pender made a surprise appearance as substitute co-anchor on “Fox News in the Morning” this morning.
COULD TODAY BE ANY MORE LIKE HEAVEN?
Some nice person signed my guestbook and said I was cute.
AND SHE WAS FROM ATLANTA!
You can sign my guestbook too.
YEAH!
At this writing, my minivan is parked in a tow zone. Every legal spot in the city of Chicago is occupied. Two cars are parked behind mine, further into said tow zone. I figure that a tow truck will have to get those out of the way before they can get to mine, and that will buy me a little bit of time. I realize that by asserting this I am really, really asking to be towed. We shall see, time will tell and all that.
I’ve been scoping out the hip teenage homepages that are popular and also the rage. There are lots of gloomy kids out there. Buck up, Wendy Website – at least you’ve got a budding career in design going for you, even if you can’t resist accentuating your links .:like this:. and typing in all lowercase all the time. I understand that high school is the worst time in your life, but you must pace yourself in your misery – college will also be the worst time in your life, and most of adulthood, probably. Being in your teens is an unusual time – you are old enough to feel that your emotions are important, but not old enough to realize that there are things more important than your emotions. Or your emoticons, for that matter. My advice for dealing with high school depression is as follows: 1) Talk to a counselor. 2) See a doctor. Medicate if necessary. There is nothing wrong with medicating if you need it. 3) Mutter “fuck” under your breath several hundred times a day, even when you are alone and have absolutely no reason to mutter. 4) Make friends with a dog or cat. 5) Ten years from now, reflect on how you were so very depressed over things that mean shit to you now.
Perhaps someday I’ll compile a list of my favorite depressed-teen homepages. Or would that be exploitative?
Well, another trip to Beavercreek wasted. I could have done something interesting, but it so happens that I did nothing interesting. I imagine that when I’m back here in a few weeks I will squander the opportunity to do anything interesting at that time. But at least I spent this tedium around loved ones. Who have cable, including all the pay channels. Hel-lo, hordes of anatomically enhanced women! There is a surprising amount of compelling drama on Friday and Saturday nights, all of which revolves around either high-priced professional escorts or cheating husbands who have criminal pasts. The best movies combine all these elements.
And another one’s starting. Gotta go set the VCR!