Elm Tree
Fake It Harder, Jesse
Having night terrors? Waking up screaming? I will stay on your couch so that you can get to sleep before it gets light out. All the people about whom I really care hide deep wounds. I handle news of rape and abuse with cool and calm. Tell me your tragedy and I will be the most mature person you have ever met. I am a mountain of strength.
Bharat Has Some Advice For Me
bharat: rule #1: no more than 2 blog entries a day.
Later:
bharat: jmullan: quality > > > quantity
Starting tomorrow I will follow this new ruleset, so today I smoke the rest of the pack of blog entries all at once. Prepare for the onslaught!!!
Those of you who obsessively reload my site all day will just have to suffer. Have you tried an rss reader?
My New Job Title is “Eater of Sixlets”
My boss and I want to develop an old school side scrolling video game where you clear bums and incoming freshmen from a student union. Part Super Mario Brothers, part Double Dragon, part Street Fighter III, part Mortal Kombat II, and all awesome.
All.
Awesome.
Take Off Your Shirt, Sand Off Your Nipples
Strong Bad has advice for me: http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail135.html
Gerg’s gf gave me some different advice for the lady…ing:
You should mess up your hair, and get rid of the socks. Maybe… flip flops? Unless you have weird feet.
The only thing weird about my feet is that I wear size nine wide shoes.
Web Candy
Zach got me all hopped up on Sixlets today. Then I crashed super hard and got all mopey. THANKS!
Working Hard Or Hardly Working?
Thanks to Jeff the creepy guy who asked out my manager at the Speedy Market eleven years ago.
Two Good Shows!
Both shows were way fun tonight!
I was fifteen minutes late to the first show because I forgot my fringe pin and missed the first bus. Even that bus might not have been early enough because I miscalculated the distance between Lyndale and Hennepin at 26th. Also, my bus driver didn’t stop at the first stop after I pulled, even though I pulled almost a full block in advance. When I walked back past it there was no “Buses do not stop here” sign on the blue bus stop sign. Then it started to rain. Really, water just condensed in midair. It smelled like laundry everywhere. It was hot.
The woman in the 10-speed show was crazy crazy crazy unbelievably superlatively crazy hot. It’s a good thing that a person can stare in a play without drawing attention. Wow. The show itself was really fun and made me all nostaligic for high school. When they say “best years of your life” they mean “it only ever gets shittier.” At least you eventually get used to it.
The testicle poetry show was awesome, I swear that he rhymed motherfucking cocksucker with fucker at some point, although he denied it. Apparently he’s a high school teacher or something and a bunch of his former students showed up. They all went to Mortimers. I stopped there while waiting for my bus home and had a beer while fondling their Tornado brand foos ball awesomes.
Who knew that I still had like $10 on a stored value card from at least two years ago? My bus rides were essentially free! And long! And I missed my mp3 player because I was an idiot and didn’t bring it! I really don’t feel any more socially responsible for having ridden the bus. At least I know where the 4 really goes and I’m fairly confident that I could bus to school. That is where the real cost savings start to stack up. And I could let Lisa use my car during the day! Except that they bought a Ford Escort for $700. One house, three adults, three cars. Hmm. So riding the bus doesn’t make me feel any more responsible, but having three cars makes me feel like a douchebag. Apparently I won’t be able to get ahead.
Amusingly, Stan offered me a ride to the show. I said “that would defeat the purpose of me taking the bus.”
He replied: “you can always take the bus back.” Of course, he would have made a complete round trip in the process. He is the one who sends me doomsday “oil’s runnin’ out!” links. I just like to rock out in my car for fifteen minutes a day.
Oh yeah, people seriously keep almost accidentally hitting me with their cars. I’ve lost count. It’s a little disturbing. Stop signs are for fucking stopping, FUCK FACE!
I just can’t get away with a 3am post without some all caps swearing. It just wouldn’t be right. Not at all.
Bad Days
Six days until the sweet relief of maturity. Six days until I drip water on the straw wrapper of my life and it grows into a writhing worm 30 years long.
Goddamnit, why didn’t I notice the student discount on the fringe tickets? Oh snap! I should have bought a five show punch card for $45 and saved even more! Argh!
Okay, so I’ve missed a couple of possible shows tonight, but I can still get my shit together for a 10PM showing of 10-Speed Revolution, and then maybe the 11:30PM testicle show.
Now if only I could get some booze beforehand. Hmm. I understand that there are these things called buses that go from place to place and occasionally allow drunken louts to lie on the floor and swear quietly as long as they don’t smell or touch the other passengers. What am I saying? I used to ride the bus all the time. Of course the smelly guys touch the passengers! That’s why they keep raising the rates, because everyone wants to be touched by a hobo! They even made a tv show about it starring Michael Landon! Wait, no, that was “Highway to Heaven.” Hmm. Oh yeah, “Touched By A Hobo” starred Valerie Bertinelli!
Actually, aside from when I used to ride the 16 my bus rides were always pleasant affairs. Now where is that 4 schedule I grabbed at the Art Fair? Oh well, that’s what the web is for. What bar is closest to the Brave New Workshop and serves the strongest booze for cheapest? Hmm. It’s only half a mile to the Minneapolis Theatre Garage, on Franklin and Lyndale. Then the 4 is right there to bring me home again. It’s not the subway, but at least it doesn’t smell like burning corpses.
If you miss me, I could probably use a phone call so I can annoy the shit out of the other people on the bus.
Time to put on some pa- hey! I’m already wearing pants! Hooray!
Oops
Somehow between picking clean clothes out of the hamper and laying waste to the bathroom, fifteen minutes went by and I was far too late to get my ass to the West Bank, so I opted for a heart poundingly refreshing nap and the traditional household dinner of french fries and pasteurized processed breaded chicken chunks.
I’m bumping that show to 10pm on Wednesday.