Roundup!

That is: a roundup of Videos! Yes! I scour the internet to find all the good stuff for you: music, funnies, and plain old freak out weirdness.

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Maybe I shouldn’t eat so much hot sauce

This morning I had a dream that I walked down to the basement of a parking ramp and found thirty or forty dead bodies. One had been stabbed or shot or something, and the rest had suffocated. as I ran back up the stairs, I could see the smoke that someone was pumping into the basement to kill everyone. When I got to the top of the parking ramp, I tried to tell the parking ramp attendant, but they were busy with incoming cars, so I tried to call 911. My phone cut me off and flashed a message that lines were being held open so police could deal with a sniper. I put it together that this person was on a killing rampage. I heard shots and glass exploded around me. I turned around just in time to see a detective sneak up to a window across the street and fire point blank through the glass. The sniper fell forward through the window, doused in blood. I thought to myself that now I would be able to see the weird horse things like in the Harry Potter movie.

I woke up, then my alarm went off, but I wasn’t really awake, so I hit the snooze and an anaconda wrapped around me like a sheet.

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Three Hours Just To Get Tired

After my doctor’s appointment I went back to work to put in more time. About a half an hour later I found myself digging into the task at hand with the sort of focus that has been avoiding me for seeming weeks. Satori seemed at my fingertips. I was working on a problem and the solution was unrolling itself as I typed. Around 9:15 or so Donald called to ask if I had seen his fountain pen. I had not. I must have sounded tired, because he told me that it was time to go home and relax.

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In the Big Rock Candy Mountain

I would have to say that tonight was the most successful night of my apartment yet: we used all of the forks, dirtied all of the dishes, and an expedition was led to the park that ended with the thorough enjoyment of “O Brother Where Art Thou” by all. But wait, there’s more: we discussed a trip to Ax Man in the next week to acquire “stuff” to make a “cardboard pirate ship.” I’m so happy, and next week’s Goonies will be even better.

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Go To Sleep You Little Baby

The clock in my computer is telling me in no uncertain terms that it is officially now Wednesday. If you aren’t aware, Wednesdays are the days when SSCO shows movies in Stevens Square Park. That’s today, so if you would like to see “O Brother Where Art Thou,” show up around dusk. Last night (yestertoday? did I make up that word already?) Sarah helped me clean my apartment because some of our friends will be here slightly in advance of the showing. Apparently not you, because I have TRIED to tell you that they show these films and STILL your complaint is “I don’t want to be accidentally or purposefully shot while watching a movie in the park.” So far no one has been shot, so I don’t want to hear any more of your whining.

July 11th: O Brother, Where Art Thou?
July 18th: Goonies
July 25th: Ghostbusters
August 1st: On the Waterfront

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ABC, Easy As Php

I upgraded some stuff to php5. If you find any problems on jpmullan.com, please let me know. Gracias.

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If I Shake My Trousers Down

A week or so ago they were showing “The Magnificent Seven” in Stevens Square Park, but the real show was before hand while they held a karaoke contest. The singers were, uh, well, let’s just say that the small amount of gin and tonic that Alex and I were splitting was not quite enough to dull the caterwauling howl of a man covering Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time.” It was bad to the point of surrealism: a practical joke gone horribly awry. At any moment I honestly expected flash pots to go off while the man pulled off a mask to reveal actual Cher underneath, at which point we would be treated to a spectacular, if unexpected and truly unasked-for rendition of the collected works of Cher.

Now, at this point you might say to yourself that I have entered a fairly amusing description of bad karaoke. Everyone has experienced bad karaoke, so, uh, so what? Well, I’ll tell you so what: trannies what.

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Me, I Want A Hula Hoop

Zach tells me all the time that slowing down the Chipmunks is an experience, so, when the chance came up to simply click and hear, I did.

You know what, give me that thing: I’ll do one.

FILL IT UP AGAIN! It’s so good! Once it hits your lips, it’s SO GOOD!

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Sunday Bloody Sunday

Holy crap I forgot to drink coffee for two days. Maybe three. I’m not sure what day it is any more.

I just sent a terrifying email to one of my photographic subjects from Pride asking for a more formal shoot. Gah! I don’t think that I cracked wise even once. This is why I need to pour coffee into myself nonstop: so I am never “off.” There are characters that I play (like the one who writes these posts) and at least one of them must always be active or… I dunno. Something. Something bad, I think.

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International Jesse Day

I’m quite excited that work is letting me celebrate “International Jesse Day” tomorrow. Traditionally celebrated on the last available day before “personal holidays” expire, International Jesse Day starts with a ritual “sleeping of in” and is followed by the “running of errands” and the “consideration of the possibility of calling unemployed friends for the doing of stuff,” and “attending of parties.” These are all excellent traditions worthy of being maintained.
International Jesse Day

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