i'm a wario, i'm a gonna win

I recently recieved some letter in the mail from Butt(e) College telling me that I rule at their school and have been awarded the title of king of academics or something. However, getting a 4.0 at ol' Oroville U is kind of like jumping the wall in Wario Stadium and lapping all the koopas and princess toadstools. It's cool at first, but after you realize that pretty much every human alive can do it, the accomplishment kind of loses its luster.

In other news, my nephew just gave me a Monsters, Inc. temporary tattoo. It's pretty badass.

2/12/99

The funny thing about being almost 30 is that when you drive around listening to music that once changed your life, you realize that you pretty much are 30 and that at this particular moment you probably look like a serious douchebag attempting to regain some long lost sense of what used to rule but now pretty much sucks.

put captain solo in the cargo hold

Yesterday morning, as I was outside trimming the basil plant and furthering my tendency toward total domesticity, my neighbor, Tim, walked out his front door. Now, for the record, I have seen Tim walk out his front door on a number of occasions, and have never felt the need to document his departure. However, on this day, when Tim locked his front door and plodded down the stairs, he did so with purpose. Because when Timmy left for work (or whatever people like Tim do) that day, he was not one of us...the ever-yawnable by-products of humanity, travelling en masse to work, to school, to death, to blahblahblah...

No. Tim lives.

...as a man who dresses up as a Star Wars character. You see, on that fateful day, upon hearing Tim's door close, I glanced up just in time to see a God-given miracle...a man carrying a Boba Fett helmet and a duffel bag full of bounty-hunting, Han Solo chasing awesomeness.

Tim rules.

ps...upon further review, I have decided that the helmet and accompanying outfit belong to Jango Fett, Boba's pathetic, headless father/clonethingy. All cred is gone. Tim sucks.

songs i wish i had written: track four (aka, speaking of which...)

"Let's take the moon and make it shine for everyone."
--The Get Up Kids: Campfire Kansas--

no need for reminding...you're still all that matters to me

Despite the fact that they have continually reneged upon the musical promise made in '99 (best album evAr, anyone?), The Get Up Kids have decided that they ain't dead yet, and are apparently getting back together. This news follows on the heels of Matt Pryor's recent solo-acoustic tour, during which he learned that real kids spend real money on real dudes, who aren't afraid to play an old song or two.

Regardless, I'm still prolly gonna go to a dozen of those reunion shows. Of course, I said that about Face To Face too...but at least dt gave me the dvd...which is pretty much the same as being there. 1,2,1,2,3,4...and all that.

things you don't care about: volume four

The best flavor combination of Runts is two pinks, one yellow, and one blue. An occasional green or red is a welcome addition, but never orange. Orange sucks.

songs i wish i had written: track three

"You said, 'I miss you, oh sweet boy...and will you come on down?' I woke up to my cold sheets and the smell of New Jersey...when do I get to wake up to you?"
--Saves The Day: You Vandal--

things you don't care about: volume three

I just found out that Tim O'Heir, who produced the auditory miracle, Say Anything "...is a Real Boy", also produced Crumb's album, "romance is a slowdance," which I listened to HECK-OF times while hiding in my SSU dorm room. Songs like "kid klone" and "1, 2" made hurting over girls and playing unhealthy amounts of Freecell a lot easier.

Corndog, California

"When I die, they'll put me on a table...make me look like I did when I was alive. They'll tell all my friends and my family I died of natural causes. But drinking ain't natural."--Joel Kliebe--

This past Saturday, Corning, Ca. received a net gain of about 10 gajillion creds as most of the coolest people evAr descended upon its hallowed grounds for an evening of serious debauchery. Years spent training with J. Deuche allowed my liver to weather the alcohol tsunami and return home relatively unscathed...which is always nice.

you say it's your birthday. it's my birthday too...

yeah.

Since I blew it by not dying at 27, I guess I am pretty much in it for the long haul now. Which is alright I suppose, considering I have my mid-life crisis to look forward to. I'm sort of shooting for joining a motorcycle gang, but learning how to fly a triplane isn't out of the picture either.

Either way, buy me something. I'm old(ish).