OsCar Wreck

What was that all about?

Good thing that I'm horribly drunk off of that twenty-two dollar Pinot Noir, or else I'd be feeling like I just missed out on three hours of trivia, (As you Like it), to watch a completely tame, surpriseless ceremony.

Did Clint thank Jack Taylor?

A Million Dollar Baby should be put to sleep.

Last night was incredible

We got 13674. And it could have been even more.

I smell a challenge, and perhaps an obsession...

Spurs vs. Clippers

(Post deleted by the author)

Back to Business

Okay, enough of the Reading Week diversions, (though I have to admit David, that I never really thought about the fact that the X-Men were quite uncanny. Especially Nightcrawler. That guy gave me the willies). Now it's time to talk about the important stuff again.

Do you know what's really uncanny? J.P.'s silences that precede the class. He has such an authoratative presence, that you cannot help but stare at him when he enters the room. But then he looks almost as if he is scared to start talking, as if the lecture he delivered cannot be broken into sections, or halted halfway through. So he says nothing. However, his silences are so loud! His paper shuffling and throat clearing are so pronounced, but also he seems to be desperately trying to get a point across, but speaking would just spoil the moment entirely. It is almost a disappointment when he finally does speak, (though his lecture today was fascinating as always). J.P. compared reading and lovemaking, as both are a race to the finish, but also feature attempts to delay the inevitable climaxes.

This is directed mainly at the class of 411 last year, but does anyone remember the disappointment that was "The Saddest Music in the World"? I think that Guy Maddin's conclusion was that silence is the saddest music in the world, but J.P. silences are quite moving. Maybe they are a little off-putting, but hardly sad.


Oh, and on a semi-personal note, I finally put the ex-clamation point on last summer. I had deluded myself into thinking that people change over time, but I noticed that the only thing that changes is our perspectives on them. It's amazing that it took me this long to notice, but I was blinded by my ego, (perhaps I enjoyed the attention). PEOPLE DO NOT CHANGE.

Stay tuned for Barton Frink.

Noticed While Online

How did Hollywood Hulk Hogan managed to grow a black beard and a blond moustache at the same time? Did his membership in the exclusive New World Order allow him to transcend the laws of uniform facial hair, and grow it in such contrast with itself?

I think that the picture says it all.



The only possible solution was that the Hulkster dyed his moustache and left the beard at its proper colour. But then, how do you go about dying a moustache, whilst at the same time preserving a beard. Would not there be some spillage?

Boggles the mind...and the groin.

Aviate This!

I'm not sure how I feel about it just yet.

Passable, maybe, or even very good.

Can't wait to see the Thai Warrior film.

For Whom Saved by the Bell Tolls

Do you think that Max from 'The Max' was a paedophile? It would help to explain why a much older man had an intimate relationship with all of these teenagers, and then one day disappeared and was never heard from or spoken of again, despite the fact that the teenagers continued to frequent his establishment.

Guess he 'Maxed Out'

Hey gang, do you wanna see a magic trick?

Familial Matters

What was really more deserving of facetime - Richie's Jheri-Curl Mullet or Urkel-Bot 3000?

Savage Love

Which Savage really had it better growing up?

Ben



or Fred



Hey man, don't let the glasses fool ya. Winnie was a wild child, while Topanga seemed a little 'lights-out missionary position', if ya know what I mean. Still, both present intriguing cases. It is up to you to decide.

Hey Kiddies!

Did you miss me? I've been in a slight daze over the last couple of days. Oh, let's go so far as to call it a brief hibernation. But I'm back on my feet starting tomorrow morni...afternoon.

Lots to promote, so don't go nowhere. These next few days are going to be a rollercoaster....of love.

Kanyeeze rox my sox

I got big time posts coming up about B.W. , Sideways, and reunion tours, but for right now....that speech by Kanye at the Grammys made my nipples kind of hard. You too, no?

You can hit it from the Front. You can hit it from the Back. You can hit it from the Side...ways

Sideways may attempt to show Swingers Mikey and Trent all grown up.

If not, then the parallels are shocking.

Basically, it's like this. Nobody cares about you. Therefore, the dating world is the perfect forum for such a harsh reality, because dumb luck and breaking all the rules finds you more success than any sort of 'worldview'. Some people can't accept this. They believe that the world is governed by logic and order, and that every cause has an effect, blah blah blah. But nowhere is this less true, and Swingers and Sideways illustrates this beautifully, then in the world of dating.

Sometimes, you have to break all the 'rules' and only then can you be a man. I imagine this is why some people respond violently against these films, or miss the point entirely, like the woman in the cinema next to me who said of Miles, "that guy is such a loser". We are all losers when it comes to the harshness of dating, otherwise we sit back idly and pretend not to care, in which case we aren't getting any and have no right to make fun of others in the first place.

As you can guess, that is where I currently stand. I need to be a loser again.

One day left until...Breeding Week!

I wish you luck all the bretheren who are gettin' out of town. Remember to buy me a snow!

The Write Stuff

It seems as though up until this point, I have only ever included my non-professional writing on my little piece of paradise known as 'Caught in the Traps'. By non-professional, of course, I mean that I have the tendency to write in a haze, shutting out all distractions and letting my fingers do the talking. Once I feel that I have successfully completed my work, I emerge as if I was dreaming. As such, I have the tendency to hate proof-reading, as my work existed in a moment.

This is how my last few essays have been composed, and this is also the manner in which I write blog entries and (cough!) newspaper articles.

But there are a few exceptions to this self-imposed rule of mine. Sometimes I use the reverse tack, and revise my pieces extensively, choosing just the right words. This process is long and arduous, and for a kid with A.D.D., well, it's obvious why I don't do it more often.

One notable exception to my 'haze-pieces' was composed during my working foray this summer. No, I'm not talking about the databases I mined through and corrected, or the inter-office goodbye memo I composed, (which was a keeper, btw), but the E-mail that I wrote in response to Bill Simmons sports-guy column, which I discovered during one of those slow weekdays. I think it was a Wednesday, but other than Mondays which featured, (gasp!) a morning meeting, every day was pretty much the same. Is this what I have to look forward to in the 'real world'?

So anyways, I decided that I would answer the call for 'corrections' in Bill Simmons pieces. Seeing as how I am as reflective a reader, as I am a writer, I was surprised that I found a mistake so indefensible, that I had to write to his Intern and correct it.

I thought nothing of it at the time, though I sprodically checked the B.S. mailbag to see if he responded. Sadly, he never did. However, I was searching the Sports Guy site after the Super Bowl, and came across a column authored by his Intern entitled 'B.S. Exposed Volume V'. It was filled with corrections to published articles. There, he made mention of a mistake Bill Simmons made for a second time, which had previously been discussed in 'B.S. Exposed Volume I', the same mistake I corrected in my summer E-mail! Maybe I had contributed to the discussion! I didn't get my hopes up too high, figuring that maybe some other schmo made the same observation as me. After sorting through the erratic ESPN search engine, I found the piece in question, and sure enough, well, see for yourself.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/exposed/040908

I very much appreciate the deliciousness of being the lead name in an article entitled 'B.S. Exposed'. One clarification, though. The SI cover joke is not mine, as I probably would have riffed on 'The Surreal Life'. Good show, that.

Unbeknownest that I had been published, I entered the B.S. Intern contest, figuring that I was as good a pick as any to find 'links of the day' and point out the mistakes in future columns. The 400 word piece that I wrote for the contest was another one in which I took my sweet time composing. I hope that I've got 'The Write Stuff' for consideration.


I also got my J.P. first time exam back today, (which was a HUGE surpise). It was lacking in some places, (surpirsingly, in the Shakespeare question), but I owned the question on Gradiva, a story I had no intention of analyzing for the exam, but then read the night before and loved, and kept fresh in my mind for the 9 a.m. exam. I scored highest on the Oedipus / Anti-Semitism question. This was probably the answer that I was the most unsure of, but I took at stab at it.

In the spirit of writing, next time I'll print my castration complex answer in its entirety. I normally woudln't subject my readers to my academic work, (if someone posted their latest Peace and Conflict essay online, I sure as hell wouldn't read it). But trust me, In a Patrick class, the material jumps right off the page.

As for today's J.P. Files, he totally snubbed me for a copy of 'Beyond the Pleasure Principle', handing out his five copies to much prettier students, (I could have easily just bought the book that the section is from, but hey, complaining is fun!) He said that we were 'good little girls and boys' either for showing up to the class today or for making it to university, I wasn't quite sure. Then he called himself a good little boy, and chuckled.

Then in a typically poignant J.P. moment, where he seems to be going on a tangent and then says something profound. He asked all of his students to consider what is beyond the pleasure principle, namely death. J.P. remarked that he is the only one who can truly understand this phenomenon, as he is the only one who has lived more years than he has left. He pointed out that every student in the class is young, and that all the elderly people had been weeded out, (the way he said it made it sound like they had died, but that was probably unintentional).

Then J.P. pointed out that there was nobody in the class over the age of twenty-five, or perhaps thrity. Then a whole bunch of people looked at me, as if to imply that I may have been the thirty-year old he was referring to. I didn't know that I skewed THAT old.

I can't wait to see what his reaction was to my Hamlet essay.

More adventures in self-analysis that I swore up and down would not plague my blog, but I feel the need to publish anyways. Don't hate.

I found the Superbowl experience to be wonderfully stress-free tonight. I mean, sure I puked from the combination of Sam Adams and Chowdah, but other than that, for one night, I didn't concern myself with worries of gossip or backstabbing or anything. Maybe I'm maturing, or maybe I just want out of the scene, but I am really comfortable in a cool, laid-back setting.

I'm learning to let sleeping dogs lie, and just not concern myself with other people's shit.

Of course, this may change dramatically tomorrow.

I just don't think that what I feel is anger, but that sometimes I just enjoy meddling, and at other times, it's time to mend.

At the risk of sounding like a shitty Byrds song that borrows from Bible verse, I feel like I am turn turn turning every day.

And I like it.

HeyyyeyyyeEYEYyyyEYYYY....

.....I quit smoking today

Only Fools Russian x 2

More friend evalutions. Today, I have come to harsh realization that I have a pair of friends that I have completely fetishized, and up until now, I have scarcely realized how boring these friends of mine really are.

Forgive me though, as I was blinded by my fetishization of them. For one thing, they're twins. Everybody loves twins, right? (like the Coors Light commercial). But these aren't just boring ass identical twin like the Degrassi sisters or that annoying girl in residence, (I know, that sure narrows it down), who for some reason had an identical twin that was much hotter. No, these girls look absoutely nothing alike, but are both cute, and furthermore, both came out of the samw womb within minutes of each other, and yet act absolutely nothing alike.

For a long time, I would just observe them in action, curious about their power dynamic, as the younger and smaller twin seemed to make all the twincisions, and I was wondering why the older and taller twin didn't knock her over. Then I moved on to observing how they act socially, as to which one talks more in a crowd, as opposed to one on one. Then they had a common friend who, when she came between them, would basically speak for them. Compound this with the fact that one is a math genius, while the other seems to prefer essay courses, well, you've got the making of a serious study that could have easily garnered a research grant from some prestigious university, perhaps Minnesota. Get it, the TWIN cities? I kill me.

Okay, back to the twins. They were, (and still are) from the town of St. Petersberg, and that's Russia. None of this Florida bullshit, as they are from a place formerly known as Leningrad. That in itself is hella hot, as evidenced by the success of mail order brides and classified ads all advertising the exotic Svetlana and Natalya and Sergei, (depending on the publication). Let's face it man, even though the Iron Curtain has fallen and the Soviet Union broke up, etc. there is still a certain mystique that is involved with Eastern Bloc women, and this is evidenced by my sole Playboy that I purchased, which features the article "Russian Girls Never say Nyet". I showed my two lovelies the article early on in our friendship, and let's just say that they didn't seemed too pleased. They seem to say 'Nyet' quite a bit now.

If you are getting the impression that I desire to sleep with them, you would only be half right, (or something like that). They only way that I would want to get involved with these two Babushkas is if it was a package deal, two for the price of one. I would be INSANELY curious to compare the techniques of twins indepently of each other, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that they settled into such a fetishization, that I somehow lost track of them as two separate people, (it's still hard to make that distinction), and by this point they are about as attractive as a bowl of borscht, which, by the way, is delicious with a little sour cream.

Now I must reveal that up to this point I had only fetishized them twice, which is understandable, as there are two of them. One fetish per person seems healthy and honestly, can anyone name a relationship of theirs that is not partially built upon the actualization of a hidden fetish? I thought so. My third fetishization just came to me right now. I think that ultimately these Russians appealed to me because they remind me of those wooden dolls, that when you open them, there is a another doll underneath. You know the ones I'm talking about. Ultimately, because these girls are so small, I guess I expected that they woule remove their stretchy outer layer, and have another, slightly smaller Russian twin hiding underneath.

Now THAT'S a perverse fetish.

Kind of hot though.

Houston, we have a problem

http://www.vh1.com/news/articles/1496457/02022005/houston.jhtml

I have nothing orignial to add to this story, as it speaks for itself. Howeevr, I didn't want my glorious headline to go to waste.

Yazoooooo

Anybody ever had something that they so desperately wanted to talk about, but couldn't, since the case is an ongoing one and there is the remote but still feasible possibility that they might read your blog and incriminate you further?

Probably not.

But that's the situation I find myself in now. And like Paul Denton, blue eyed dress for every situation. Moving through the doorway of a nation. But that's neither here nor there. The point is that I have been through the mud over the past couple of days, and I don't feel comfortable talking about it just yet. Plus C-Brad gets too wistful when I write about J.P. and Crabu bitches when I talk sports, so I'll gravitate towards something new.

Uhhh....I called a friend of mine out through E-mail a week and a half ago. She was the kind of person who seemed really friendly, but deep down you didn't know whether it was fake or not. I basically told her to put up or shut up. and since she hasn't answered me back yet, not even with a forward, (which I HATE, if anybody has a friend who sends forwards, even if they are funny for five seconds, delete them. I made the mistake a few times of keeping people around who would send me forwards. They revealed their true selves shortly after. Forwards mean 1. You are not funny 2. You are not creative enough or too lazy to ask 'wazzup', yet you still find time to send a forward. Pathetic.), anyways, I feel like I scored a moral victory when this person did not E-mail me back. An answer of silence means, at least to me, "I had no problem being your pretend friend, but when it comes to giving genuine heartfelt responses to concerns of yours regarding my sincerity, I am clearly too preoccupied to care. Also, I don't even have the heart to say 'bye' or some other such kiss-off." This, for some strange reason, makes me feel better about myself. It's almost as if I would rather cut off people enitrely, rather than have them as 'faux friends'. Does this sound strange or masochistic to anyone? I hope so, because any response will help me deal with the current 'situation'.

"Against the Grain"

This is how J.P. described my essays in class today. i'd like to think that he's right, but then what (or who) constitutes the grain?