Lame to the XTREME Volume III: Faggot, Thy Name is Jon

or Jon's proposed alternative title for today's monstrosity of an entry:

"From God on High Himself: My Motherfucking Earthly Peeps, Don't Be The Sort of Cock Slurping Ass Scrambler That Forwards Blogs to My Parents. That Shit Will Never Gain You Entry Into The Kingdom of Heaven. P.S. Fuck All Y'all."

(I think that actually had nothing to do with me or today's entry, but I post it nonetheless. If only because I fear for my safety when he gets angry.)

Well, well well!! Here she comes... limping back into the room... "Blogarella - Queen of the Blogosphere" no more.

So where have I been, exactly? The rundown:

sick -- no -- dreadfully sick for an entire week, mostly recovered, tripping balls for 5 days off some wicked powerful antibiotics, working at Classy's, drunk, borrowing my dad's kickass car, NEW GIANT TV!, more drunk, procrastinating outlines, finally mastering the art of applying BareMinerals (holla, Momz! You know how to make me feel prettyfied), feeling too lame to blog, unexplained sadness, experiencing the supreme awesomeness of Columbia's newest swank and semi-racist Mongolian Grill Hu-Hot with Ferg, Amanda & Jon, having my rightful title as Columbia's ACLU President temporarily thwarted until next week, obnoxiously celebrating an improbable World Series win, feeling too unoriginal to come up with a Halloween costume, witnessing Eastside's own Sal Nuccio belting out "Fairies Wear Boots" while dry-humping a giant upside down crucifix, inspired, drunk, drunk, happy, feeling the itch to post an entry about my odd vacation from you, my sexy little blog.


...and all the while staying (mostly) gluten-free.

I'll write something more topical soon. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get a detailed description of the bacterial infection in my tonsils, throat, and hangy-down thing in the back of my mouth that produced gallons of puss & mucus and rendered me wholly unable to SWALLOW without wimpering and crying like a kitten I just kicked across the floor. Speaking of, Thunderdome has wormed her way into my heart. Now I can't skin her and turn her into KITTEN SOUP like I had initially planned.

Blogger, why do you hate me?!

Can you read this?! Can anyone read this??? Blogger has fucked up my blog. Blog Blog Blog this all to hell.

I'll return, rest assured. Why am I cursed by the evil overlords at blogger.com?! WHY???

Do I wanna go out with a lion's roar? I wanna go south and get me some more...

So I was piddling around my apartment today. Getting primped up for the grand MU Law School's tradition of "3L Composite Photo Day." Yeah. Class pictures. Come to think of it, the only thing separating law school from high school at this point is the fact that we're of legal age and actually encouraged to become alcoholics.

Anyway, I'm piddling around the apartment today, listening to Cyndi Lauper's classic She's So Unusual. Out of sheer boredom in the midst of Remedies, I decide to look up "She Bop" on Wikipedia. The article was run of the mill, but I was surprised to find this link at the bottom of the page.

Don't get me wrong -- I love Wikipedia like a wise old sage who often loses his mind and shits his pants, but this "List of Songs About Masturbation" is just too lame. I would be curious to see a picture of the person who sat in his or her basement for days, compiling the master list and high-fiving themselves every 20 minutes. (Get it? High-fiving? Get it?!)


Wednesday NY Times Crossword Puzzle, here I come!

You know what? Here's what.

A few things that are on my mind:


1. Break-ups are difficult -- but so is being stuck in a relationship that feels like you're suffocating and slowly dying every day it continues.

2. Just because I'm not constantly airing my feelings on my blog doesn't mean that I'm not affected. I simply don't think it's appropriate to pull all of my friends into matters of the heart.

3. Only one person rallied around me when I was miserable in that relationship. Everyone else saw me as a bad guy when I finally ended what had already been dead for months.


...and that's all I'm gonna say about that.


TIME TO MOVE ON

Read this and say "innnnnteresting"

Take that, Sylvia Browne!!

Fascinating.

I think this is might be the next step in proving Jesus wrong. It also explains why that shadowy figure keeps trying to deter me from reading when I touch the exposed wires sticking out of my kitchen wall.

Presenting...

Why "Thunderdome"??

Because we don't need another hero. That's why.

Last night Jon & I went to Nathan's birthday party. Bum with a Dog played, which was lovely. Especially the song about When Harry Met Sally... but then things went terribly, terribly... awesome...

The greatest musical pairing since Sacco & Vanzetti:



Perfeck! Jon's going to kill me.