Not that they were ever that great, but has anyone else noticed that POD totally sucks now? Just saw them on Leno. I swear. Golf ball through a garden hose.

Check below in case you haven't already.

Bring it On is sponsoring a campaign to buy body armor for our soldiers overseas. A source on BIO has implicated Alice in the scheme. *jealous* I'm going to buy one of the t-shirts right now. I urge you all to do the same. This isn't about politics, but it should be noted that there's a difference between saying that you support the troops and actually doing so. The fact that this is being spearheaded by liberals proves that the notion that supporting the troops and the war are inseperable is complete and utter bullshit. As the sticker says, those ribbons and those magnets don't do shit for them. This does.



So I had my acting class today at Bunker Hill Community College. Turns out there's a guy there I already knew from grade school (though he didn't recognize me at first). Moreover, I met two girls who a friend of mine went to school with, one of whom I'd seen in a play he was in, and the other of whom appeared in a couple of his stories. I make fast friends with theater types, so we hung out for a while after class.

So aside from meeting two awesome people, the class looks to be in the very least enough to sustain me as an actor, and it looks like it has the potential to take me further.

All in all, this semester looks like its going to be a hell of a lot better than I expected.

Out for now

So, I had another class today. Psychology this time. This time I think I'm going to love my class and my teacher. She's from Japan, loves and talks about all sorts of awesome food, loves drinking beer and watching/talking about sports, and is, it seems, fucking brilliant. Can't wait for next friday.

Saw this over at Vesper's and couldn't resist.

Also, I ran my profile pic through a website that matches your face to celebrity faces that Shayna directed me towards. There were some pretty awesome results, such as David Beckham and Jim Carrey. I'm not quite sure what I categorize Hugh Grant as, but he was a result as well.

It also listed female results, such as, in my case, Naomi Watts, Selma Hayek, Scarlett Johansson and... umm... Britney Spears.

I then loaded in another photo, resulting in Billy Bob Thorton, Joaquin Phoenix, and David Beckham again. So I guess its telling me that I look like Beckham. I could do worse. On the female side it turned up some actress from Israel named Agam Rudberg who is, well, way hot.

So, that's all for now. Oh wait... no it isn't... This man has some kind words about a few of us. I was only just now pointed to his blog by Alice and found myself mentioned in the top post. Eerie.

Now that's all. I think... maybe. I'll keep you all on the up and up.

UPDATE:

Wrong again. Randy Miholland who writes and draws Something Positive and who I got to hang out with the other day stabbed me in the fucking gut. Click here. Necessary Backstory: Fred needs to tell his wife that he's been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Read all three comics and report back at once.

I mean, I don't know how any of you take this, but as someone who's been reading the strip for coming up on five years, holy fuck

Before you read this post you should probably check out Alice's diary at Bring it On, as it's about something far more important than this. Just... just make sure you come back here.

Allright. Done?

I went to the Something Positive reader gathering at the Diesel Cafe last night I later found out that the Diesel is the number one place to go if you're under 21 and a dude who likes dudes. It didn't come up last night, and I hope that isn't seen as the sole reason to go there, because that place is pretty fucking sweet.

At first the sight of Randy Miholland was... well, not the one I'd expected, but after a bit it made sense. He was giving out free sketches, and drew me a sketch of a Redneck tree, which was really cool. I also made a new friend, and ran into a couple of people I already knew who I didn't know read S*P.

There was a rather large crowd looming over Randy for the first hour or so, but it turned out that most of them were more there for the sketches than to, you know, actually talk to the guy. So once those types left with their sketches, the gathering got a lot more chill. We started sharing stories, jokes, etc. It turns out that Randy is an awesome guy. He said he might be running a D&D game at Vericon, so I'll probably end up going.

Had my first class today. If this is going to be any indication of the way the rest of the semester is going to be going I might have to numb myself in order to make it. It's looking like a regression from my High school English class.

Then again, I've got Pshychology tommorrow, and I've never taken that, so that might turn out ok.

Oh and Pia, I'm waiting to hear what you have to say about this. I say too little too late.

From Shayna. For a while I didn't realize I'd been tagged until I saw she said she was tagging the first five commenters in her 23rd post. I was in the first five in two out of her three blogs, so my guess is she wanted me to do this.

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.

the fifth line from my 23rd post is, "As you can see, I've been doing little things to spruce up the site visually." I'm actually kind of embarrased, looking at that, seeing as that endeavor has not progressed any further. It is arguable that it never took off. I'll get around to changing templates, I swear.

Ok, as for tagging... Let's say for the sake of convenience my RILF list, (minus Shayna obviously, with Miz Bohemia filling in.

I definately intend to write something else tonight. let's see how that works.

Well, in the end, now that Shayna has participated in the RILF meme, I've run out of reasons not to. (though let's face it, I was probably going to do this anyways) For anyone who didn't know already, RILF stands for Reader I'd Like to Fuck. I tried to think of some new spin to put on it, but in the end I just decided to go with the five-person list.


Transcience is overwhelmingly sensual, such that her sexuality and her intellect seem impossible to seperate. Her wildly imaginative and evocative writings make no mystery of that. Her photos reveal that she is as sexy as her writing, and one gets the idea that she knows what she's doing.

Vesper is a hot mom who plays the guitar and the bass. I can't tell you how sexy that is within the scope of this post. Also, she makes frequent references to her crush on Katherine Moennig. I really don't need to elaborate on that. She also holds the distinction of being the hottest woman with whom I've discussed Stephen Hawking, and what on earth is sexier than quantum mechanics?

Dylann is, a smart, sexy blogger with a voice that's quite hot in that it sounds kind of shy even though you know the person who owns it isn't. She is also a fantastic poet, and while she hasn't been around here for a while, I would be remiss not to include her.

Shayna is a hot mom with a heart of gold and a terrific voice. And she plays the guitar, and as I've said, female guitarists are always sexy as hell (I may actually write another post explaining why). Unfortunately (well, I guess fortunately for her, really, but unfortunately for the intents and purposes of this list), she's married, so... yeah, that won't happen, but its a hell of a thought


Alice embodies the sexy and smart archetype in rare form. And its not just that she posesses those two qualities; she has a sexy intellect and a smart sexiness (if that makes any sense). I cannot imagine a universe in which she would not be good company. Moreover, Alice is passionate, compassionate, and so hot as to make a scalding seem like a cold shower.

It should be noticed that both Shayna and Alice get extra points for putting Leigh in their RILF. I'm going to savor that thought for a moment...




...





...




Ahem. Of course the general motif here has been smart and sexy. I wouldn't have it any other way. Of course, as I adhered to the list of five precedent as set by Alice there were some notable exceptions; pretty much everyone in my sidebar who isn't a dude. (sorry, dudes)

I'll probably be back with something later on.

There are a couple of people I thought I'd already linked but turned out to be mistaken. Call it an oversight.

Miz Bohemia, for all things Rhapsodic and Bohemian

Sar, for some great stuff out of left field

Quality product produced by both.

There's a longer post below, and another perhaps later tonight

So I get done telling you all about how I want to be writing more, and then I go and skip three more days. Classy, eh?

Today I made an attempt to re-inject myself into some form of educational environment for the next semester. I wasn't... entirely successful, but the matter is hardly closed. One way or another, I pretty much need to be taking classes.

On the way back, I stopped by the Dunkin Donuts to grab a latté. I suddenly remembered why I haven't bothered with them for a while. In my area, the places where you can get espresso fall into two categories: Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks. I tend to avoid the latter because I like to support local brands, and because the people at the nearest Starbucks have fallen into this nasty habit of giving me a cup of steamed milk and letting me pretend that there's some gorram coffee in there.

As for Dunkin Donuts? Well, first off, the whole espresso thing is hardly the boat they came in on. And second? I don't know how universal their hiring practices are, but I can't remember the last time I was able to clearly communicate with someone behind the counter at a Dunkin Donuts. I mean, its rather an easy thing to order drip coffee. Or, should you be masochistic, one of those stale shitty doughnuts. (fuckers cold chased Krispy Kreme out of town. You have no clue to what degree I am not cool with that) I mean they're right there in front of you. you can point. There is a bit more complexity when it comes to orders involving espresso though, and that can be a bit of a stumbling block

I ordered a large french vanilla latté with two extra shots of espresso and a caramel swirl. The beverage I recieved was normal strength. It had the caramel, and the vanilla, but with sugar added, which I didn't ask for. It wasn't a total loss, I was charged properly for the beverage I got, as opposed to the more expensive one I ordered, and it was tasty, just not in the manner and octane I was hoping. Still, I can't help but wish I could be back in Chicago, with a fantastic place for coffee and company was a short walk away. Failing that, I'm considering expanding my DIY ethic when it comes to food and beverages. Probably something I'll back down from, but it's a nice thought. And if you're thinking, "if coffee is the greatest of your worries you've got it good," it isn't the greatest, just the one on my mind at the moment. Nothing like elaborating on the small things to take your mind off the big things. Of course, I've got to take care of them, but it can be an unnecessary burden on the mind at times where there's nothing to be done.

Inaccurate beverage in my hand, I made my way to New England Comics, my local incarnation of which is run by a dude who is like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, only cool. I was talking to him about what's going on in the DC Universe. Apparently I've got some serious catching up to do. As I didn't feel much like buying a shit-ton of books, I instead opted to buy Attack of the Bacon Robots, a collection of the first two years of Penny Arcade strips, with creator commentary. Of course, the strips are all there, so the book might seem a bit pointless, but I find it worthwhile for a number of reasons. Those guys have been entertaining me for seven years, and the first I've paid for it is this book. Furthermore, there is a sort of candor to the commentary that feels as if the writer was looking over my shoulder as I read. Adding to this experience was the fact that he himself hadn't read through those archives in a couple of years.

At the end of the book there's a webcomics manifesto. Of course, the whole text is lost on non-webcomics geeks, but I thought I'd quote part of it that I find particularly resonant.

Typically, when people discuss the "ramifications" of webcomics, the discussion adopts a kind of revolutionary tone. The more serious proponents of the medium think of the mysterious internet as ameans by which the yoke of oppression may be cast off... The dialogue tends to focus on how digital distribution... alters the power dynamic between creators and publishers. I guess so. The most startling change we've seen hasn't been between creators and publishers, it's between creators and readers.

A lot of the same has been said of blogging vis a vis the traditional press. And don't get me wrong. That aspect is signifigant, too. There have been great shakes in the way blogging has taken on roles previously filled exclusively by newspapers. A shining example is Bring it On, in which I am proud to play an (albiet miniscule) part. But if that were all, I wouldn't be here. I've said it before, but it bears repeating. You, people on my sidebar. You're awesome. And while in its recent fascination with blogs the media has focused on the first aspect, as far as I'm concerned the greater part of it lies in my correspondance with all of you, both as a reader and a writer.

Speaking of which, here's another thing I'm proud to be a part of. I don't think any more needs to be said. ^_^

That's it for now. Maybe something of more substance when I have the inclination. I make no promises though. Also I just might participate in the meme if I'm in the mood.

So... I've been a bit emptyheaded lately every time I sit down in front of the keyboard. Plenty of things to write about, of course, but I haven't been able to make much of it. Which is why I've been silent for the past two days. Of course, that's a bad habit to be getting into. I'm a writer. Or at least I try to be. I should be here with material every day. I should also be working on some of the projects I've had bouncing about in my head. It's not like I don't have the time. I do. Too much of it, in fact. Not quite sure what it is, but it's something that hits me every now and again, and not just with writing.

I hope someone gets what I'm saying, because even I'm not sure.

Picked up a book of Bob Dylan songs a while back. Those familiar with this blog and my taste in music shouldn't be surprised. Of course the flaw there is that Dylan never played any song the same way twice, so unless you do something different with it you're playing it wrong. But I can hardly be expected to turn out a brilliant adaptation at this stage, and I do want oh-so-much to play some Dylan at open mikes, so I guess I'll settle for now. I've been working on "Like a Rolling Stone." Problem is, my poor amp can hardly get any volume without distortion, so it takes some tweaking to avoid a sound that would make the purists at the Newport Folk Festival lynch me. That having been said, I think it would be cool to be called Judas while on stage.

I was wondering if Pia was going to post about the latest episode of Boston Legal. She did, and it is, as always, more than worth reading. But then again what do you expect when an awesome writer writes about how an awesome show relates to her. Also on that note I'm declaring myself in allegiance with whatever she ends up calling her alliance in her war on Oprah.

I've now logged two entries at Bring it On, the first clearly being the more well recieved. Its good to be able to gauge results so easily. Which reminds me, I need to update my sidebar to include BIO in general and my diary there in specific. But we all know that it takes me a while to fix my sidebar, so... you know... don't be terribly offended if it I don't do it now.

There was something else... It's escaping me at the moment, so I'm going to post this now and write another one in the event that I remember, deal?

Later.

Ok, so to understand this, you need to read this post over at Courting Destiny. Go to it; it's worth the read.

------------------------

A typical night. Well... morning. It was 5:30 AM and my eyes were filled with the angry flashes of men with jetpacks firing at me as I stood my ground, spraying the air with hot lead with a weapon whose weight would likely cause permanent damage to my spine. And they called it a minigun. Fuckers.

I was lining up yet another witless jackass with my spinning steel behemouth when all of a sudden I froze. My vision went black, then blue. And a sign appeared in my peripheral vision that said

GMail: You have 1 new message.

My mind changed gears like the Russians change governments.

Gradually I became aware that there was a thing called email and that maybe I should check to see if I had some.

A few clicks. It's Shayna. She needed a backup singer and a guitarist for a show the next evening. attatched were some tabs and lyrics and also a confirmation number for a bus to Tennesee. Conspicuously absent was an "if you can make it," or a, "if you're up to speed on all of this." It didn't look like I was going to sleep any time soon.

I printed it all, downloaded the songs on Mp3 and burned them to a CD. I gathered up my guitar, amp, et all and headed down to RCK music. It's a little known fact that Ryan sleeps there. I knocked on the door. No answer. Spying an exterior outlet, I plugged in my guitar and started to play Stairway to Heaven. His head popped up in the window.

"NO STAIRWAY!!!"

He saw me and opened the door.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I need to learn these songs poste haste."

"Why?"

I gave him my patented, "It would be bad for your sanity to make me explain myself" look. He let me in. Five painful hours later I staggered out, my objective having been completed. I made sure to leave quickly before Ryan realized that he usually got paid for his time. I got on the subway and headed into town, listening to the newly burned CD to pass the time and familiarize myself. I got off the train, and headed to Dunkin Donuts, ordering a triple-strength latte and a box o' joe. When I got to the bus depot and handed in my number I got a strange look from the man behind the counter. I assumed that it had something to do with my appearance. I travel like I sleep. White T-shirt, pajama pants, and looking fuck-all of unkempt. I got on the bus and caffinated myself steadily as I rode to Tennessee.

A brief re-orientation to my surroundings and a cab ride later I got to the gig. Ophelia slung over my shoulder, wearing a long black coat; open, and a black hat that could be mistaken for either a stetson or a fedora but in truth I hadn't a gorram clue what the hell it was. I saw a familiar face tuning a Gibson L-200 (to be clear, it wasn't the face tuning the guitar, rather the woman who owned both). I strode over.

"Hey Shayna. Heard you needed a hand."

She gave me a weird look.

"Wombat?"

"That's me."

"... what are you doing here?" There was a tension in her voice that confused me.

"Umm... you sent me this, remember?" I showed her the print of the email, complete with the songs."

"I didn't send this"

"Huh?"

"I never sent this email."

I felt a bit lightheaded. I started to say something, but it felt stupid in my mouth.

She looked up. "Did you really think I'd ask you to come down here for one show?"

The sheer absurdity of my last 10 waking hours swirled around my head. I drained the last of my Box o' Joe.

"I'll believe a lot at five o' clock in the morning."

"Apparently."

"So, if you didn't send this, who the hell did?"

"That's the part that's confusing me... The only thing in this email that isn't true is the header. So, umm... want to join us?"

I nodded my head, unable to find words that sufficiently carried the weight of how much it would have sucked not to take the stage that night.

So I put Ophelia up on a stand backstage and headed to the bar, downing a two shots of Jack and a glass of water to combat the damage done to my throat by the ridiculous caffiene consumption. The caffeine and alcohol waged cruel war as I joined Shayna and the band. The fact that I hadn't slept in about 30 hours played its hand as well. Of course, I'd used all three to my advantage before, but this was a different stage. I was concerned.

We played the set, and while I can hardly be a reliable witness due to my state but I have to say I think I did my job. And as for Shayna, her video doesn't do her justice. At the end of the set, the crowd was yelling out for an encore, and we hit them with Like a Rolling Stone. After the crowd died down, we sat at the bar. Not daring to mess with the strange state of balance my body was in, I had a soda.

"I'm still not clear on what posessed you to come here."

"Neither am I. It's kind of bugging me." It was.

Why had I come? Crossing five states on a whim was a new one on me. It didn't make sense

The bartender handed me a glass.

"This is from the lady who just walked in." I looked around. There was no one. I turned back

"Excuse me, who exactly do you mean?" He was gone. I looked at the glass. There was a cell phone in it. Shayna and I exchanged looks. I was relieved to see that she was exactly as confused as me.

The phone rang. I fished it out of the glass and flipped it open. A slip of paper fell onto the bar.

"Hello?"

A girl about my age responded at the other end.

"Wombat?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's Cooper. I need you to get to Kansas City as fast as you can."

"You certainly picked the right night. Can we get back to the part where you tell me how the hell you know where I am?"

"Easy. I sent you there."

"But wh-" She cut me off.

"Listen. I've got no time to explain. I need you to go right now."

"And how the bloody fuck do you conjure I do that?"

"Easy. Pick up that piece of paper." It was a valet ticket.

"Ok, so you know your moves. Now do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"Karl Rove kidnapped Pia and I need you to bust her out."

"He took her to Kansas City?"

"Well would you think to look there?"

"Oh."

"I've got her location logged on the car's GPS. Oh, and you're going to find two women fifty miles down the road with white signs that say Kansas City. Pick them up."

"Umm... ok... what do I-"

"Tell Shayna? I'll take care of that."

Shayna's phone rang. She picked it up.

"Hey, Wombat. I'm sorry, but I've got to go. It was great playing with you." She gave me a quick hug and hurried out the door.

"So do you want to tell me how you know all of this?"

"Karl Rove's been spying on me ever since I said he was my dad. I figured two could play at that game."

"Well what about everything else?"

"There isn't any time. Just go get the car."

I handed in the ticket. the valet pulled up and handed me the keys to a fire-apple red convertable. I popped the trunk to put my stuff in, and I saw that there was what I can only describe as the sort of equipment a cat burglar would bring to a high-story heist. Climbing harnesses, grappling hooks, rope, glass cutters, the like. Having seen the previous events fold out in front of me up until now, I figured that I'd know what to do with it all when the time came. I fired up the Red Shark.

Sure enough, two ladies were hitchiking fifty miles down the road. I pulled up and shouted, "Need a lift? I was sent by the lady who just walked in," hoping to for once to be the source of confusion rather than the target. To my dismay, they knew exactly what I was talking about. They were Cat and Queen Bitch. They were dressed in velour catsuits a la Charlie's Angels. I guessed, correctly, that they didn't need to be briefed. They filled me in on the game plan.

All of a sudden there came a terrible roar as the air became filled with what looked like huge bats. I did my best to ignore them.

I also did my best to ignore the sky turning green. Either I was the only one who saw it or it was just another thing I hadn't been filled in on and my state of mind was too fragile to roll with any more outlandish revalations. At this point I wasn't entirely sure that any of this was real. I kept driving, and tried to ignore the hallucenations. Though I will confess to speeding up to get away from King Kong. At long last, the in-dash navigation system told me we'd arrived at the place. It was a ten-story building. Out came the grappling hooks and harnesses. Four of each. We threw them up and scaled the building. We saw Rove through the sixth story window. He'd just entered the room, and was approaching a desk. He sat down. Underneath the desk were Ann Coulter and Bill O' Reily. He started to talk. I stood there, dumbfounded.

All of a sudden my vision went hazy and blood filled the floor of the room as a big fat lizard had his crotch torn at by two smaller ones. And the fucker seemed to be enjoying it! I remember saying something like, "take who you like, that big red bastard is mine!" as I kicked through the window.

"Die, you inbred Troglodyte!" I shouted. All of a sudden everything snapped back and I was staring a very shocked and confused crook in the face. He pulled his pants up hastily and stared in dumb shock.

They say you should never hit a man with a closed fist, but it is, on occasion, hilarious. This was such an occasion. Though I confess I overdid it. As I landed the tenth punch, the one that finally felled the swine, Cat tapped me on the shoulder.

"Forget about this?" she asked, pointing to the bottle of chloroform in her hand.

I looked past her to QueenBitch, who was standing over two unconscious pundits.

"You had to go and make noise, didn't you?"

"Hey," came a new voice, " I'd love to sit and listen to you three talk about technique, but does someone want to cut me loose?"

We all turned to see Pia, shackled to an office chair, waiting patiently. I freed her and handed her the spare harness. We rapelled down the wall victoriously and drove off into the Shark.

"So... Vegas?"

We sped off into the night.

By what I was at this point no longer inclined to consider a coincidence, Shayna and Cooper met us there, as well as Miz Bohemia and a host of people I didn't recognize. I gave Dylann a call, and she joined us in our highly improbable party. A good time was had by all. Well, everyone who mattered. And as Pia mentioned, I enjoyed my sojourn with the ladies.
----------------------

Thanks to Pia for the inspiration.

So for once I say I'm going to do a followup post and I actually deliver. Who'd guess? Note: This might not make sense to anyone who didn't read my last post.

Around 2pm, and until 5, the following items for the scavenger hunt were revealed one by one:

A pair of wax lips
A Stones record on vynil
A Boston Red Sox ticket stub from a 2005 game
A copy of Rolling Stone magazine in which the Stones were mentioned

Ok, so I was in contact with my friend John, who is obsessed with the Stones, at the point that the stub was mentioned. He had a stub, I had a vynil. The plan was to load everything vaguely Stones-related, or rock-related, including each of our guitars, into his car in the hopes that one of them was the fourth item, and head into town. All we needed was a place to find wax lips. Having exausted what seemed every other option, I called Sugar Heaven on Newbury Street. They told me that they had them, but that some woman had bought out their stock. Soon after, I was listening to WZLX and I heard that very woman talking about the manuver she pulled. Then the final item was announced.

THERE WAS NO FUCKING WAY WE WOULD HAVE ROLLED OUT THERE WITHOUT A COPY OF ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE.

Fortunately, the woman who pulled that shit didn't win.

So I didn't manage to get my hands on Stones tix. Not a surprise. The contest was running a week and it only occured to me to try just this morning. All that having been said, it was fun, and I came out of it with a story to tell, so its more than cool. And I got a hell of a consolation prize. Soon after my chances for tickets fell apart, a call came on the phone. My aunt was holding a pre-emptive 21st birthday for her son, my cousin. So I spent the rest of the night hanging out with my cousins and sipping some decent wine.

Added as a bonus that one of my cousins present, brother to the one turning 21, was there with his guitar (he's been playing for at least ten years). Having forseen and in fact called to ensure this, I brought mine as well. He voiced his surprise both to the speed at which I've caught on, and also to Ophelia's quality given her modest price. (Analogies regarding my baby as a prostitute will be met with tears of rage). Furthermore, he taught me Heart Shaped Box, as well as much of Sunshine of Your Love. Then I let him try out my guitar as I picked up his acoustic. He played some pretty sweet licks, and I asked him if he knew any blues. He told me that he'd forgotten much of it, having picked up the bass a while ago. In response, I laid down the one blues riff I know; a simple 12-bar rythim part in the key of E. I wrapped it up.

"Hold on, keep playing that for a sec. I want to see if I can get some of this back."

What followed was an awesome-sounding improvized blues jam session. As it came time to go, we finished up by playing Wish You Were Here, instruments now in the hands of their proper owners. If you forgive the play on words, I wish you were there to hear it. So, departure imminent, we made plans to hang out and play guitar on Monday night if at all possible. I can't wait.

So anywho, I made up for the lack of Stones in my evening by recording a (perhaps debauched) accapella rendition of a Stones song via audioblogger. Click if you dare.

So I woke up today feeling as if I had undergone a Doctor Who-like transformation. A hand to the face confirmed that I hadn't, which is a good thing to be sure of. Last thing I needed was to go out of my room and have my family wondering who exactly was the strange man in their living room.

As we speak, I'm enjoying a bowl of peanut butter and bananas for breakfast bright and early at 12:35 (did I ever tell you I'm kind of weird?) while a distant noise and a pleasant smell tell me that my coffee is coming along. Classic rock on the radio, Boston's WZLX. I'm making a conscious effort to get Stones tickets today and they've got a couple of contests going on that could give me some help here. A scavenger hunt at 2pm and all day the possibility of a three-in-a-row followed by a timely call each grant the hope, if slim. A friend of mine worked on the breakdown crew the last time they were in town and proclaimed the show to be fantastic. And of course we know Shayna loves her Stones.

A check on the coffee. Not done yet.

Pia didn't get a mention in the BOB awards. I can't speak for any of the competition but as I have no inclination to trawl a large number of blogs today I'll agree with her that it's bullshit. She's right. She puts out a quality brand, and in a media defined by its capacity for diversity, the word mainstream discredits its every participant. She locked the comments on her latest post before I could sing her praises there, so I'm going to do so here.

Let me tell you something about my taste in writing. My favorite writers invariably require that one change gears in their mind in order to properly enjoy their works. Two notable examples are Hunter S Thompson and Douglas Adams. There is without a doubt a special mindset that one needs fall into to get them. The same is true of Pia. Or at least it is for me, so yeah. It could be that my normal mindset is so far askew that I can hardly be a judge in what counts for quirks, but whatever. It's not like that's the only requirement. Pia has a spark about her that's either indescribable, or beyond my capacity or inclination to describe. And on top of that, she's damned clever. And consistant. Every day there's something worth reading there. Sometimes several somethings. So yeah, I'm not really going in depth right now, because in all honesty I'm not really looking to prove that she's awesome. Anyone who isn't convinced can read her blog and decide for themseves.

Coffee is done. Coffee is good The Rolling Stones' cover of Like a Rolling Stone is on the radio. I'm keeping a good ear out for the 3-peat.

Allman Brothers is next. Nevermind.

So I've been hearing calls for a recording of me guitaring, notably from Shayna. I have, in fact, found the device necessary to capture my guitar on my computer. It is here. I've decided that I'm going to aquire it as soon as (a) it is in stock at ThinkGeek or some other place where I can get it, (b) I have learned the following songs:

Wish You Were Here, by Pink Floyd
The Man Who Sold The World, by David Bowie
Heart Shaped Box, by Nirvana
Sympathy for the Devil, by The Rolling Stones

The reason I'm doing this is because I really want to be able to play those songs and there is nothing that will spur me on quite like the prospect of a shiny gadget. This isn't to say I won't make some attempt to put a recording up here by some other means. I've all but gotten Wish You Were Here down, so I may stick that up here sometime soon if I find a way.

Ooh... It's Only Rock 'N Roll (But I Like It) came on...

False alarm now it's The Animals.

Speaking of Shayna, she put out an open tag not too long ago, so I think I'll take it.

The meme, as I understand it, is to list five interesting things people might not know about me. So here goes.

(1) It is well documented that I'm a large fan of Boston sports both in that I'm a ferverent follower of the Red Sox, Celtics, and Patriots, and also in that I'm a Boston sports fan and I'm large, but the extent to which this is true is not quite as well known. At the age of five months, I was in attendance for the 1986 NBA World Championships, the last such contest in which the Celtics were victors. According to all accounts I was watching intently, following the ball up and down the court. Some of my earliest childhood memories were from the old Boston Garden. I even got to shoot hoops on the floor before they demolished it. Good times.

(2) I'm trained as a lifeguard, and during the summers of 2000 and 2001 I fished a good number of struggling swimmers out of the waters of Adams Pond in Barnstead, NH, during my time on the staff of T.L. Storer Scout Camp.

(3) Once again along the lines of things water-related, I'm fairly skilled on waterskis. The problem, of course, is finding skis whose bindings accommadate my feet (whose size has caused many to suggest that I just ditch the skis altogether) Suffice to say, the sight of me leaning into a turn on one ski while the boat is powering along at 40 mph has been described by some as strange.

(4) Looking at me you wouldn't expect it, but I'm actually pretty damned good at the limbo. not that it ever comes up. But I can also strike a pretty mean Matrix pose when I'm wearing my trenchcoat. How I didn't get cast in one of the sequels astounds me. Not really, but you know. When I'm doing my thing, it causes a fair amount of double-takes. I mean, it's pretty ridiculous.

(5) I've of course made frequent mention of my progress in finding my way around six strings. But the guitar isn't my first instrument. From grades four to eight I played the trumpet for my school band. I actually got pretty damned good at it, and did a passable (though hardly masterful) version of Louis Armstrong's Hello Dollie, but I lost interest when I learned that the guy in charge of the band at my high school was a total dick (I was hardly wise at that age), and eventually as I focused on acting I didn't really have time for it. I might pick it up again at some point in the future, as I'd like to experiment with it in the context of modern rock, but right now I'm focusing on my guitar.

I'm following Shayna's example and leaving the tag open. If you feel any desire, by all means.

*finishes second cup of coffee*
*gets up for third and, regrettably, last cup*

So I ended up taking that Alito post, condensing it, and pundit-izing it for posting at Bring it On. I think I did a rather good job of it, and the folks over there seem to be agreeing with me, so I'm pleased. I think I'm going to focus my political writing there from now on. Of course, if I'm going for catharsis as I was below, I'll put it here. In any case, my Bring it On entry can be found here, but it's really only different from the post below in length and tone. Also, it's written for an audience that knows what's been going on with the confirmation hearings. So basically don't blame me if you read it and don't find anything new.

Ok, it's 2pm, which means that I need to (a) start to get moving to pick my brother up from school, and (b) start thinking about how I'm going to handle the scavenger hunt. In order to win I need to get down to the (new) Garden where the concert is taking place with the four items.

anyways, I'll catch you all later. I'll definately have some more stuff for you guys tonight.

I was originally going to post this on Bring it On, but as it turns out they censor for content, and I want to make myself clear here. Also, I haven't quite polished my "pundit" voice

Were it not for the obvious ramifications involved, Judge Alito would be on my "Punch in the face if I ever meet him" list. And I swear, it's not because of his views. I can tolerate the existance of a man like him. I really can. What I can't tolerate is when he lies through his teeth about who exactly he is as a judge.

First of all, he pretended not to have an opinion on the subject of abortion rights. This is utter bullshit, and I would be fucking shocked if there was anyone at that hearing who wasn't readily aware of it. It would be apparent even if it weren't for the paper he wrote in 1985, and his abject refusal to tell us exactly what the sanguine fuck, if anything, had backed him off his stance.

And then there was this Vanguard bullshit. With a $300,000+ stake in the company, he still voted and wrote an opinion that stopped the trial. For some reason, the American Bar Association hasn't found this in violation of a 1974 ethics law that requires judges to recuse themselves from cases involving any company in which they hold a financial stake. I'm not going to make any accusations there because they're too obvious. But even should we assume that he was in violation of no law, there's still the matter of a pledge he made in 1990 not to hear any trials involving Vangaurd. And why did he break it? He had the audacity to call it a "clerical oversight." HE FUCKING BLAMED HIS INTERNS FOR THAT SHIT. Luckily, this didn't stand because Kennedy called him on it, and Alito eventually said it was an oversight on his part, but I refuse to believe that anyone could fail to notice all of the papers that said Vangaurd on them. Call me a skeptic.

I'm also fuzzy on how he missed the discrimanatory leanings of the now-defunct Concerned Alumni of Princeton when he signed on to the group. I guess he's just not good at noticing things. Then again, while that's a possible defense of his character, it's certainly not one of his nomination.

Of course there was also the matter of his ruling in the case of a 10 year old girl who was strip-searched. He made a point of saying that he wasn't happy about the strip-search, but claimed the whole issue to be semantics regarding the specifics of the warrant. The police requested a warrant to search the house and all occupants. They were granted a warrant to search the house. Where exactly that becomes unclear is beyond me, but apparently Alito has some gorram sixth sense that I lack. All I know is that giving the police carte blanche to "misunderstand" their warrants is a hard lean towards facism. And while that is in itself despicable, the fact that he passed it off as "semantics" makes him indefensible.

He tiptoed around all of these questions, as well as others. Which leads me to wonder. If Alito is so keen not to tell us anything about himself during these hearings, how is it an abuse of process if the Democrats decide to filibuster his nomination?

Well, I said I'd have a song up. Turns out I was lying. It's too late to do anything like that now. Also, I'm still trying to figure out how to record both myself and Ophelia at the same time. So far my idea is use audioblogger with two phones but I don't see that working too well.

Alice made a bit of a target of me with her latest post, it seems. I am saying nothing more on the subject here, as to comment on what was written there would be to self-incriminate, and I do that enough by accident, so to do it on purpose would be quite foolish. All I'm saying is that I hope that the red dot on my forehead is just a shiney, mobile zit. She comes home on the morrow, I think.

Transience has launched a new blog, to further prove to the world that she is not only hot but also can match captions to photos like you all wish you could.

Shayna has, well, you see for yourself. Damn is all I have to say.

that is all.

For those of you unaware, Mickerdoo wrote about Guantanamo Bay on Absurdity Jam. I'm not sure I have anything else to say. Hold on a sec...

Pat Robertson is being a dick it seems, but what else is new.

It also appears as if mining safety regulations have been relaxed under Bush. I really don't know if I can say anything about Bush anymore without repeating myself.

There's some good news if you're from Boston; Manny Ramirez has announced that he wants to stay in Boston after all. Go, us.

Aside from that I've got nothing.

I might audioblog another song either tonight or tommorrow. Any suggestions?

During my time in the Windy City I learned many things (I was at school, after all). Some of them were pretty frightening. Like this:

There are places in this universe where Subway is mistaken for good food.

How the fuck did that happen?

I'm just wondering exactly how many people are continually deprived of good subs. It scares me. I can literally walk to the corner and get one. But I don't, because the best ones are in the next town over. That, however, is hardly the point. The point is, there are about ten places within walking distance where I can get a delicious sub sandwich. There is a reason Subway hasn't caught on around here.

Though, I'll have to admit, I did falter once out in Chicago. In my defense, I was with a girl at the time. A pretty girl. But that's immaterial. I ordered a pepper steak and cheese sub. What I recieved was a half of a baguette containing three sick-looking pieces of steak, each about the size of a stack of 15 playing cards (an estimate). The cheese was desperately clinging to the sides of the bread, presumably to avoid the seemingly leprosy-ridden beef. The peppers? They weren't cooked. I looked up at (we'll just call her) Stephanie, who was somehow enjoying her abomination of a sandwich.


"Geez, you actually like this crap?"

"Um, yeah"

"What, did your last six boyfriends ruin your pallate?"

Ok, I'll level with you. I didn't actually say that. But I did think it pretty loudly. And looking back I wish I had said it as I'd found out later on that night that I wasn't interested (for reasons other than her taste in food, I'm willing to let a few things slide).

Anyways, a little further investigation confirmed that there were people around there who, for some reason, liked Subway. It made me add Jared to my "I'm totally going to punch this guy in the face if I ever meet him" list.

Anyways, I'm not judging you if you like Subway. I'm showing compassion. You probably just don't know what a good sub is. Well, today is your lucky day. I'm going to teach you how a real pepper steak and cheese sub (not to be confused with the Philly Cheese Steak, which sucks).

It all starts with some shaved steak, as purchased at yon local meatery. Also, some red and green peppers (and onions, if you like onions and they don't totally mess up your insides like they do mine), some american cheese, and (obviously) some sandwich bread. I'm going to go ahead and assume that you have a frying pan, a workable stove, a spatula, a sharp knife, and salt and pepper. If you don't have those things, you're excused. GO HOME.

Ok, first thing you should know about the shaved steak. It's cut really thin. It's cut like that for a reason. Take it off slice by slice (this was the first thing that those Subway fuckers did wrong). Ok, so you take about half of the steak you're going to use and place it in the pan. Try to spread it out as much as possible. Ok, now for the peppers... Maybe I should have told you this part first, but you should cut them, and into fairly small pieces. What shape the pieces are is hardly standardized, but one thing you should make a note of is that you should leave them not quite as small as you want them to end up. I'll explain later. Same goes for the onions if you should so desire. Anyways, you layer the veggies on top of the steak, evenly spread. then you put the other half of the steak on top of them.

That is not a step anyone else will give you. It is my own personal innovation. The reason for this lies in the next step. Turn the stove on to medium heat. Then, take that sharp bladed instrument, and start chopping. By chopping the steak and veggies at the same time you are releasing juices and promoting flavor collusion. This is key to the steak sub, and a concept foreign to those aforementioned bastards. Anyways, you chop thoroughly with the knife and then with the spatula, stirring while you do so. Simmer until, well, you should know what cooked steak looks like.

Now is where a fool will add the cheese. I'll confess to having thus been a fool a number of times. But nay. Next, you kill the heat and drain the juices. Then you add the cheese (however much you think you'll like on your sammich), and put the heat back on to melt it. Also critical: Stir that stuff up. Like I said, flavor collusion. You want everything covered by that cheese. Then add salt and pepper, put it in the bread, and take a bite. Unless you totally screwed this up, it will be awesome. Note that I'm not taking any responsibility for non-awesome sammiches.

So enjoy. I'm off to meet some people.

I finally got a chance to watch the new Doctor Who special; David Tennant's first run as The Doctor.

Now, I loved Christopher Eccelston as The Doctor last year. I hated to see him go.

But this guy is damned good himself. Has the same sort of attitude as Mal Reynolds of Firefly only with a British flair.

As for the rest? Well, everyone else is pretty much the same. Which is to say, spot on. No scifi on TV for the past five years (at least) has challenged it, save for the aforementioned Firefly. Russel T Davies knows what he's doing.

So if you can and enjoy things that are awesome, get your hands on some of the new Doctor Who. And see Chris Eccelston's run while you're at it to get aquainted with the star of the new spinoff, who is fantastic. and gay. and fantastic.

That's pretty much it for now.

UPDATE: I guess that two of the blogs on that little list on the side over there have been nominated for the Best of Blogs awards. They are owned by Vesper and Pia, respectively. Both of them have been nominated for "Best Overall Blog", and Vesper has been nominated for "Best Mommy Blog" Best of luck to both of them.

One final, late New Year's Resolution. Next Year that award shall be MINE!!! MWAHHAHAHAHAH!!!

...
The Best Overall Blog one... not the Mommy one.

Saije of contentbased fame has announced that she will be retiring her URL. I don't know how many of you ever read her blog, but it was a good one. She also happens to be the first person to ever comment on this blog, as well as the first to link it. She was also the last to comment here in 2005. Those of you who have enjoyed my writing here (if you were telling the truth after all) owe her thanks because her presence was the prod that made me post things meant for consumption by others. To say the least, I hate to see her leave.

As is consistant with her form, Alice just posted and blocked comments, without humoring the masses of devotees clamoring for her attention responding to the comments on her last post, proving that her Hawaii hiatus means exactly whatever the hell she wants it to mean (know that you wouldn't get away with it if you weren't so awesome, Alice)

There is an interview up. It was posted by the blogger formerly known as GotB (who I'm not quite sure if she wants me to link to her new blog.) In any case, if this happens to reach you, Pia I'm adding you to the sidebar so that I remember to read you whenever I blogscroll because that was a good one on both ends. And while I'm at it, I'll put De.ville there as well, as I find her words pleasant and soothing in their erraticy (which if it wasn't a word before now I take all credit for coining)

I wrote something over at Absurdity Jam that at this point seems not only past it's "open by" date but also as not up to my standards. I won't take it down, because I don't do that without a good reason, but seeing it there in all it's lack of luster gave me an idea. I'm thinking of putting the blogger equivalent of a suggestion box on AJ.

the way it will work is this: I'm going to stickey a thread (as soon as I figure out how to do that) where if you feel so inclined you can comment and toss something in. It can be anything, even just a word. Then, keeping true to the strict "whenever the hell we can and feel like it" schedule we keep over there (can you tell?) there is a chance that something might be written about it by someone on the panel.

Or at least that's what I'm thinking at the moment. What do you think? (feedback from members would also be nice)


Well, I believe that's it. If something else comes up... well, I'll post it here.

UPDATE: Candi, it seems, is leaving too, and on far less pleasant terms. That sucks. If you happen to read this, Candi, I'm sorry for what happened, and I hope you make it through this.