Jeez

I'll write later, dang.
Also, if you have any car-buying suggestions, fax them to me.

Mysterious Ways

While sulking and working on my final papers, I inspected the airbag bruise/chemical burn at the base of my thumb. What I found was surprising.

No? You don't see it? OK, I'll help your imagination out a little bit:

Turns out airbags can bring good things after all--like my friend Wanda here.

My Car Is Forever Gone

A 17-year-old male drove his Ford Mustang into the front right corner of my Xterra as I was turning onto another road. He ran a red light, and I had the green arrow to turn. He was going 55 and I was going somewhere near 10 mph.

Now I have no car.

I'm assuming my car is totaled; his definitely is. I would just like to take a moment to thank Nissan. Greg's personal Xterra crash test rating is excellent, seeing as I only have an extremely sore wrist, knee, collar bone, and there is no hair on the top of my right hand. I only seem to notice the hair has been singed off my hand when it is already gone and still aching.

So Nissan, thank you. Xterra, you were good to me.
I'll be walking a bit more nowadays. I really don't like driving anymore.

Holy Crap

Wesley Snipes will be going to jail for some time.


The Academy snubbed his performances in countless movies, including Demolition Man.



I'm distraught.
I was worried about Barry Bonds going to jail, and I had plans to grow out a mustache (like Barry had, before the 'roids) in protest, and then WESLEY SNIPES gets sentenced instead. What is this world coming to? So what if he didn't pay any taxes for the past couple of years?

Thanks to MSN.com, I believe he's actually being imprisoned for a cursory simile: "Snipes said his wealth and celebrity attracted 'wolves and jackals like flies are attracted to meat.'"

A Dose of Oxygen

While I'm busy trying to find a new home and trying to graduate and trying to write final papers and attempting to get things packed up...

I listen to the new Portishead album, Third, and relax.
What an amazing album. I highly recommend it.

I figure if my endorsement helped Hillary win in Pennsylvania, I should try and get Portishead some money, awards, prestigious recognition--you know, the usual.

Good People Endorsement: Hillary

My fingers are crossed for Mrs. Clinton. They have been for many months now.

If she doesn't get the nod, supposing the heavens collapse, I hope we can shove Bill back into office. And if we can't do that, well...I'm all for giving FDR another go.

As a Florida resident, I would like to remind Pennsylvania not to screw this up.

There's a Polish Father Here

He looks gaunt, fatigued. I want to make him a sandwich, but I'm out of groceries too. He says "fucking" every other word because he was taught that way. Back in Poland, if anyone made fun of his broken English, "they would be fucking dead. That's fucking right."

As one man enters the house, others leave. There's no longer a couch in the house. The microwave is gone. Boxes are piling up outside my door.

Where's the fire?

In my infinite free time, when I'm not formulating theories on population growth, postulating whether or not Boost Mobile will be around in 5 years, etc. etc...

I almost suffer an aneurysm from an article.

Career Day: Shaolin Master Killer

To become a Shaolin Master Killer, you must complete several tasks:
1. Shave your head like Gordon Liu.
2. Listen to Wu-Tang's 36 Chambers.
3. Give up all friendships.
4. Wear several silver bracelets (as shown in the picture) like Gloria Estefan.
5. Make your own sound effects.
6. Become really fascinated with Hong Kong movies, mainly those made by the Shaw Brothers.
7. Find Jackie Chan extremely hilarious.
8. Blog all day and hope someone comments once in a while.
9. Quit apologizing. It's a sign of weakness.
10. Fight a guy with a set of steak knives for a hand and get all cut up.

My Cat, Jaundice

I don't really have a cat. But this neighborhood cat likes to sleep almost exclusively on the roof of my car.

Here's the mangy, old bugger trying to get me jealous by lying on my roommate's sports car.

I call him Jaundice because he has yellow eyes. He always looks confused/pissed/scared.

He could actually be a she, I'm not really sure. Whatever the case, Jaundice prefers to sleep on MY car.

Sometimes we both "rock out" to this song.

Possible Band Names

I'm very good at titles. Everything else--not so much. But my dear friend Meg Jefferson recently listed some possible band names on her blog, Monkfish Mandate.

If you decide to name your band after any of these, at least pay me $1, out of respect.

1. The Deutschbags
2. Sphincter
3. Jamie Lynn Spears
4. Eggplant Parmigianas
5. The The's
6. Power Chords and Lopsided Haircuts
7. Siskel and Eberts
8. The Cunnilinguists (I deserve a punch in the face.)
9. The Leopolds
10. Of Thieving and Murderous Hordes (you should read this amazing book by Martin Luther)
11. Barbara Walters and The View
12. Strunk & White
13. The Mothman Prophecies
14. Wentworth
15. The Heights
16. Dolores
17. Cronkite and the News

I would go further, but I just realized that I'm not good at titles whatsoever.

Part-Time Misanthropist

Sometimes, I feel awfully Malthusian. I just fall apart and lose faith in humanity. I know, I know. When did Greg become a cynic?

In truth, I don't want to be a cynic. I wish I was optimistic.

But flipping through the channels I see a few minutes of The Real Housewives of New York City. I see a mother take two daughters (both younger than 12) to get $65 haircuts for a dance. What the hell? $65? Who are they trying to impress at 12? Other than a high-class pederast, of course.

And later, I run into this on the back of a T-shirt at Goodwill. One good term?



On the road home, I get stuck behind "PRDYGRL". Hmm.




O.K., I apologize. Today, I just felt like I was surrounded. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cheer myself up with yet another pregnancy movie (Knocked Up, Juno, that new comedy with Tina Fey that will lack comedy like the previous two mentioned) because that will solve everything. Good day to you.

Hey! Click the Vote Button!

I normally don't listen to techno, trance, house, whatever...

But Radiohead is running a contest for remixes of their song Nude. I made a really creepy version, and I kind of would like to win, so if you could vote for me, that would be great.

Thanks a bunch!

Honey Do

Yes, It's 4:00AM, but I have to write this down now, while it's on my mind.

There are a few things I have to do before I kick this Floridian bucket at the end of the summer. I may not get to all of these things, and I will surely not do them in this order. But I figure, if I can manage some of these things, I will be satisfied.

1. Go to at least one Orlando theme park. Any theme park will do-- except for The Holy Land Experience. I refuse to go there. I don't want to see a Jesus impersonator heal a blind man every two hours. Also, there are no rollercoasters there. Until there is a wicked rollercoaster with flips and corkscrews called something similar to The Crucifier, I will not go. It's a matter of entertainment. No one wants to visit the Bethlehem Epcot.

2. Eat more vegetables.
3. Go to the beach at least one more time.
4. Go to a Radiohead concert in Tampa on May 6th, at 7:30pm, and have a great time.
5. Give indoor rock climbing a chance.
6. Give uncomfortable-looking climbing harnesses a chance.
7. Go to a NASCAR event, and shout my (feigned) hatred for Jeff Gordon like the rest of the Southern Gentry in attendance. Rest in peace, Dale (#3)!

8. Finish two paintings.
9. Find my missing Xterra hubcap. I swear I will, sweet hubcap friend. Stay strong.
10. And finally, I will (by the end of summer) learn to just refer to my car as "my car" and not as "my Xterra," because I don't want to sound like a douchebag. "We can take my car to the beach." NOT: "Sure, I'll drive. This Xterra has stadium seating."

I wrote 15-pages of a movie starring Robin Williams. The movie kind of hinges on him, too. So far, that's roughly 15 minutes of screen time.

Mr. Williams, if you really are a Good Person, please contact me. I'm sure you'll love this when it's feature length. Also, if you can get a hold of your friends Tim Robbins and Danny DeVito, that would be great. Let's get Oscars together.

Dr. Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D.! You Silly Old Man!

For the longest time, Dr. Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D., I thought you were a loner. I didn't trust your eHarmony commercials, because there you were standing all alone without a Mrs. Dr. Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D.

I mean, how can I trust a Love Doctor (Ph.D.) that is not married?

Well, I did some research on you, Dr. Neil Clark Warren, Ph.D., and found out you were married after all! Why don't you put the old ball and chain on the commercial with you?

Seems like a good idea if you ask me.

It'd be cute to see these two on the eHarmony commercials: Imagine them sitting on the couch, the phone ringing, and the both of them yelling at each other to answer the goddamn phone already. Honey! Get the phone! My Golden Girls are on!