Someone set up us the bomb!

I don't have much to report these days, though I have been spending an inordinate amount of time in the dark recesses of the local cineplexes. Last night, saw Spiderman 2 sandwiched between Michael and some guy for whom the concept 'personal space' doesn't carry much meaning. The movie was great, but the aforementioned dude nearly ruined it for me. So dude, whoever you are, you shouldn't touch girls in dark movie theaters. No matter how cute they are. Or how good they smell. I realize I'm irresistible, but please.
Whatever you do, don't see 'The Terminal'. I was attempting to follow that advice for myself, but my mother intervened. She apologized afterward. I have a strange habit of gnawing my nails down to the nub during films in the theater, particularly suspenseful or painfully bad ones. There I was, working on my left thumbnail, when I look over at my mom...to find her gnawing on her left thumbnail. Creepy. We were doing it in sync.
Tonight is Disney movie extravaganza for me and my little sister. I'm thinking we'll paint our nails, talk about boys, lip sync into our hairbrushes, and gush over Orlando Bloom. Or something. What do twelve-year olds do these days? Is it time for the hard drugs yet? Or should we start with Jell-O shots?

Gentlemen: All your base are belong to us.

Rok One's Crazy, alright.

I have not, as yet, come up with a way to link to stuff directly on Heavy but should you want to hear some good music, I suggest checking out SumoSonic (third icon from the left at the bottom)this month, specifically Track 9. They've also posted some really good videos as of late on Heavy Music, including one for Basement Jaxx's 'Good Luck', but others by The Streets, Air, Pretty Girls Make Graves, etc, etc...what are you doing still reading this? Go there already. Warning, stupid amounts of bandwidth required.

Appetite for Democracy

Here's a recipe for you:
Take equal parts (about four years) pent-up anger, sadness, disappointment, helplessness, despair, add a dash of jest. Rub mixture into freshly opened old wounds. Distill into 120 minutes, until crystallized. Voila! Your very own Fahrenheit 9/11 viewing experience.

The movie last night was a bit like a black Baptist church on a Sunday morning, lots of clapping, head nodding, and zero air conditioning. All we were missing was dancing in the aisles and some "Praise Jesus!" Throughout the movie I kept thinking the guy in the audience during the Outback Jack preview was right: "You're showing this to the wrong crowd!" I just wish we could round up the half of the country that supports that asshole for re-election and serve it up to them Clockwork Orange style. But without the eyedrops. They'd tear up soon enough, I feel. Sure, it had Moore's classic sensationalism, and penchant for selective details. But it needed to be done. You don't see that shit on the news. And you should.

Amazingly, most of the arguments against the film I heard made on mainstream news, and on select message boards turned out to be false. I kept hearing that Moore spent more time on screen prancing around than actually showing anything...wtf?? Did these people see the film? I'm still undecided about the Bin Laden family thing. Everything I've heard lately has stated they were indeed questioned, and they didn't take off until flights had resumed all over the country. That part was sketchy, but whatever. I doesn't have anything to do with the larger issues at hand.
Overall, a masterpiece in my humble opinion. Sorry I was so antsy afterward, but my head was going to boil over if I didn't start shutting it down asap.

The Animals Came Two By Two

D-Day. I got an e-mail from MoveOn today advising me to wear blue to the movie tonight, complete with talking points in case of reporters. I am a fan of MoveOn et al, but I should hope I'd be able to come up with my own talking points (not to mention wardrobe, though blue was already on the agenda, lest you think I succumbed). If I couldn't, I'd be a Republican. What I'm hoping for is protesters. White House staff was having a field day trying to discredit Michael Moore on the morning shows today (I've been having bouts of odd 6-8am insomnia lately) but, after switching to Comedy Central, I fell asleep right after Jon Stewart said Michael Moore was coming up next. Damn. I do love the assertion (assumption?) that this film is going to radically change the political landscape. Or the notion that the film is or is not journalism. Michael Moore can't tell me anything I haven't known about Georgie liar pants since day one, and George W. really needn't worry about losing my measly little liberal vote over it. I do, however, expect to be fully entertained, because that is what Moore does best.

In case my multiple attempts at notification have failed, the 7:50 show is sold out. Don't even try it. We're going to the late show. I'm sorry if this affects anyone's curfew, or house arrest stipulations. My personal vote for dinner falls in the Sushi or Indian categories, but I can be down for whatever.

If you need me, I'll be out back, finishing up the Ark. Now taking applications for those who want to live through these rains. I fear I may run out of pitch.

Oh, Ahnold.

Vive le Moon King!

Fully aware it is in bad form to link to a subscription site, I'm doing it anyway. This is just too weird to not mention. I know a few of you have my login, but if anyone else wants the full article you can e-mail me. What the hell is wrong with people?

Perpetual Homocidal Pentagram by the Mighty Hammer of Thor

This is shaping up to be a great week. Sam Bush at Sundown Thursday, and Fahrenheit 9/11 opens Friday at Downtown West. Who's with me?

I've been coming across a slew of mentions of the "new" operating system Microsoft is currently working on pushing out in 2005. From what I can tell, they're attempting to make it every bit as pretty as OSX (icons that grow bigger and move around when you point to them??? Viva la Revolution Microsoft!), but without all that pesky functionality. Not being the utmost of knowlegeable computer-type persons, I'll refrain from bitching about the features and stick to something I can cope with: They've codenamed it Longhorn. LONGHORN??? Who is responsible for this? Is this some new attempt at truth in advertising (as in what you'll be getting up your ass when you buy this thing) or can we expect a whole slew of cheesy western references in the programs as well? Outlaw Outlook? Ombre Office? Word for Wranglers? Cowpoke Character Map? I could go on, but I'll spare you. Could Microsoft, maybe, for once, just make an OS that, oh I don't know, works well?

For those of you who bailed on last night's clubbing good times (you know who you are) you have yet to prove you are not, indeed, a punk bitch. I danced like I was wearing sneakers, except they were heels. I think I broke my feet. My recovery and KY's hatred of EDM gave us plenty of opportunity to sit outside and watch the Paris Hilton clones strut and pose. Joining a meat-market bar and dance club with a common courtyard may just be the kind of genius Knoxville needs these days. Now, if only we could get DJ Slink out of the 90's....

Wondering: How can you intensely dislike someone you've never met? And what have you heard?

But there were more dams to be destroyed....

Proof that slack does, indeed, pay off: I got a job while lounging by the pool today. Well, not a "job" job, but house sitting in Farragut for two weeks. This, essentially, means I get to continue doing what I've been doing all summer (squatting in houses, eating food I didn't buy) but in a six bedroom house with a trampoline and jacuzzi, and somehow I get paid for this. Yep, just me, Nikita the dog, Lucy the adorable puppy, Spice the uber-affectionate cat, four birds (stopped keeping up with names at this point), innumerable fish, and anyone who wants to come hang out with all of the above and give my lonely, Farragut-bound ass a little company. Hint, hint. House sitting...being paid to sit around the house. Dream job.

Once again, found myself drinking with Adam last night. I may change the title of this page to "Drinking with Adam." Or perhaps the title for my memoir. I am afraid I didn't catch his friend's name...

James, if you happen to stumble across this (all of the other readers of Adam's site seem to ;p ), grazie for the hospitality (and PBR gratis). Perhaps I can return the favor sometime.

Watching: "Greatest Raids" on the Hitler Channel

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Delaware

Arrrgh...I love Salon, but why do they have to place my entire checking account on hold to renew my subscription?? This is twice now. They did it last year. I should have paid with a check. Bastards.

This wouldn't be a problem if my net worth amounted to twice a Salon subscription, but what can one do?

I just got some mail from the Army "In a few years you'll have a lot to look back on, like the moment you opened this." You know, assuming you live to look back, or have eyes to look back with, or you can bear to look back without stirring up deep emotional trauma. Sign my ass up. I'll join when Bush gets re-elected, because a desert death by suicide bomber doesn't seem so bad compared with another four years.

For someone with as little money as myself at current, I find it difficult to wager actual funds on a card game I never got around to learning, but it was fun to hang out, and Mike and I had a great time watching movies until the sun came up and ruined our fun. I think I've gotten past the point of new revelations upon each viewing of Donnie Darko. Now it's all about Jake Gyllenhaal's fine ass. Which is more than okay.

Reading: The Sorrows of Young Werther
Listening to: Weather Nastiness

Jimichanga

Holy crap! What the fuck happened here?
I'm still slightly undecided on this new design, but whatever...thoughts? Feelings? Acrimonious cries of disgust?

The race for Gmail invites simultaneously got closer, and farther. I'd forgotten that being my manbitch got Ross an automatic invite, narrowing it down to one, but then I signed into my account and had been gifted three more...I now have four up for grabs, and they appear to all be going to Holly at this juncture (kudos on the quick response).

You may have noticed I finally got around to linking all those fabulous persons who have done the same for me. I'm on the upgrade kick today.

Happy 21 to Jessie Bean, Delta Queen! The lucky bitch turns legal on dollar draft night at Crawdaddy's, though I sure was looking forward to that trip to the Smithville "gentlemen's club" (read with my patented brand of sarcasm).

Reading: My beautifully autographed copy of "Wakefield" by my baby daddy Andrei Codrescu

Girthy!

Ahhh...sweet, glorious, editable text. That audio stuff is for the birds. Especially when you're drunk all the time, and sharing a room with five other people, two of which can't seem to stop fucking. We arrived from the decadent city early this morning, and I've been instructed that "what happens in New Orleans stays in New Orleans" so the juicy stuff won't be here. We had a freaking blast. The closing night party involved a badass latino/salsa band, and the entire conference of the certifiably insane got down, as it were. Jenny is crossing her fingers about a very promising job in New Orleans, and since she's certain she would die of heat stroke working there, she's pretty sure she'll get it. I'm still processing the trip, so I may never get around to posting the highlights. I do have one item of newsworthy interest, however. I found three gmail invitations in my inbox just now. I already sent one to Adam, because I'm hoping one day he'll let me have his lovechild, but I'm having trouble with whom to send the others to. If you want one, please feel free to contact me, and your request will be considered with the utmost objectivity. Bribes will be most helpful in making your case.
Here's a poll: What one album makes you want to stop everything and get it on with the next available body? I'll start: Massive Attack: Mezzanine.
It's good to be back!

Live from New Orleans, part 2

Live from New Orleans

Too excited to make up a title!

Today is the day! Okay, so 4 a.m. tomorrow, but for me that's really today. I'm going to New Orleans, I'm going to New Orleans! And just so no one gets left out (and as proof I'm totally addicted to this junk) I'll be posting from my phone the entire time I'm gone!

I heart the internet.

And I'm totally posting naked right now. I just realized that.

In case you're wondering where I'll be passing out drunk with four other people for the rest of the week here ya go.

To the Wok!

My new favorite, sorta existent band

Unfortunately, the Rodeohead snippet seems to be all there is of that genre. According to the website, Hard 'n' Phirm is made up of Chris Hardwick (he was the non-Jenny McCarthy host of MTV's singled out, and subsequently the only reason I ever went near that godawful show) and Mike Phirman, who has hosted no MTV shows I know of. The site also credits Lee Pharber on drums, Rick Watling on upright bass, Hiro "Bathtub Sake" Goto on viomofiddle (wtf?), and Brandon McMillan on banjo tones. Hard 'n' Phirm's site says they're working on an album called Minihana and the same website promises upcoming audio links. Phirman's site has a few other gems, one of which I'm....

Listening To: Heh.

Remember me, Spring Break sophomore year?

After three years, I think I'm finally starting to come to terms with the fact that my mother married into one of those pink-brick, trapezoidally-roofed, cookiecutter burbclaves that are so ubiquitous in Farragut. This, I think, is largely due to the ridiculous amount of time I've been spending in the backyard pool. Growing up, if you'd told me I'd ever have a family member with an enormous (if not entirely bland and offensive) house and inground pool, I'd have laughed my ass off at your naivete.

That said, I will not ever get over my step-father's penchant for tan-thru speedos.

Saw Kill Bill vol.2 with Adam and Erin last night. Adam had seen it before, and Erin missed the first one, so I may have been the only one getting the full experience, but yegads, what an experience. Mike and Rhys are punk bitches (this is news?), but Keiran (sp?)was kind enough to grace us with his presence and there was plenty of blind-cat fun had by all. It just never gets old. I fear for what we'll do with ourselves when Andrea and John get back. Maybe they could loan us the cat.

The idea of an old-skool meeting at Magic Wok at least once a week for the duration of the summer was proposed, I think by me, but then I was lapping up the Vino (quel beast) so it could have all been a magical dream.

Anna and Randy are minor Argentine media celebrities, and thanks to a phone number issuance snafu, I got to hear Anna's lovely voice for a few minutes today. I'll take what little I can get 'til August.

Oh, and Anna Rockanova Dynomite, if you don't stop ditching me for that Rob loser, we're gonna have words. And I'm gonna break-a his face-a. But I'm glad you helped out the kittens. Were any of them blind, perchance?

Listening To: This (trust me, just click it, and turn the sound up)
Copy that, god loves his children...

Gonads and Strife

The surreality of today would have been lost on Dali....

You may be wrapped in greasy skin, but inside you have the heart of a robot

Being somewhat transient at the moment, I find myself out of my comfortable little computing sphere and subject the the desktops of others, and I've noticed something peculiar. Why is it that most people (I exclude the computer gods in this generalization, of course) are content to clutter their computing experience with all the little bonus icons, oh-so-informative windows, and constant error messages that accumulate with the inevitable installation and uninstallation of programs? I refuse to believe it is because they are incapable of rectifying the situation. Does anyone actually need a desktop shortcut to Yahoo! Mail? If Windows has notified you upon every startup for months now that it can't find COM1 to Hotsync or whatever, does this concern you at all, and if so, why does Windows have to tell every user who logs in? These are the little things I like to pretend keep me up at night, so I'll have an excuse for this blasted insomnia.

Today I tried to trace back to that place where I went so horribly off track. Surely there was a time in my life when I went to bed at a reasonable hour, and something or someone really fucked it up for me. I came up short. I'm sure I had a bedtime as a child, but I have memories of waiting until the house was asleep and roaming the halls, playing with my toys, reading, whatever, except actually going to sleep. As I got older (and my family expanded--jesus, when will that end?), I cherished these late hours as a time to be alone, until the rest of my generation followed suit, and I found myself in the middle of a party after the parents went to bed each night. Truly, I think I was happiest when I was waiting tables or bartending, because I had a legitimate excuse for this deviant behavior. Of course, being up late with your friends drinking or getting high is almost acceptable--far more than, say, spending entirely too long on a self-absorbed blog post--but even then, only a few nights a week. I feel as though someone really fucked up when they were programming my circadian rhythm. I'm still waiting to grow out of it, but as the years speed by, I'm becoming doubtful. I defy anyone who is reading this to call upon a time when I said "Well, I'd love another drink, but I think I'm just gonna go to bed..." Can't do it, can you? It's not the alcoholism, it's the insomnia....the alcoholism is just a convenient cover-up. Eh.

Ever feel like you're on some sort of blacklist, but you can't exactly pinpoint what you've been blacklisted from?

Yeah, neither have I.