thanks to the chelsea handler show (which everyone REALLY ought to watch--it's on E!) for turning me on to the existence of this little gem of dementia.

for whatever reason, whenever I learn that a film or written work deals primarily with one of the following subjects I automatically stop wanting to see/read it: war, drug trafficking, icebergs. I know I'm missing out on a lot because of that; I'm working on it.

even after learning how the minute maid company came up with its name, I still think it's dumb.

it's about time that people started giving the wallflowers the respect they deserve. I just may have to buy all their records (already have one, so need four).

remember the tv series "father dowling mysteries?" I loved that show. similarly, remember "sister kate?" not so great; I still remember the milli vanilli episode.

dinner tonight with justin, josh, rachel, mad dog, and noel was very amusing. first time I'd seen people that I don't work and/or live with in forever. so a step in the right direction. life has become more insular, if that's possible. other than forwards and mailing list stuff, I've gotten two e-mails since my birthday. I only ever talk to my mom and justin (occasionally josh, naturally). it's like I'm back in high school. I just feel like I should be more social. and I wish that I had the time. so it goes.

latest absurd purchase: an ionic pro air purifier. will post an update on its efficacy once it's been established.

less than two months now until our week in cancun. I'm anxious to wake up every day with margaritas, lie in the sun with dacquiris, and fall asleep under the influence of fuzzy navels. I'm not an alcoholic, but when it's all inclusive you want to get your money's worth.

given that something as distant as the moon controls the tides, is it reasonable to say that extended periods of happiness and displeasure in my life are controlled by a complete stranger's hair or lack thereof? there's the most delicious boy in gso (short, muscley, that marvelously blond hair that nearly always darkens after childhood) whom I first noticed several years ago as a coffeehouse regular when he had long hair (and no beard). "what a shame," I thought, "with biceps like those and a bum like that to spoil the package with that icky hair!"

some months later I saw him working at teeter--short hair. mmm. nice. life was good. then he grew this dreadful beard, spoiling everything again. thus began the winter of my discontent. few men should have full beards. only my dad and jonathan frakes, I think. but I kept my eye on him in vain hope.

then last week, when I stopped in for some groceries. new haircut. clean shaven. I was elated, I tell you. my buoyant mood has persisted. which leads me to wonder about a subconscious connection.

in a similar vein, I have to say it: nick lachey is hot. now I have to go and hang myself for the shame of admitting it. anybody got some rope?

there's just no getting around it. dan brown is a damn good author. I read deception point and didn't really care for it, but the da vinci code turned me around. now I'm reading angels and demons, also great. that said, he makes some awfully bubbleheaded errors in his books. in the da vinci code, it is made very clear that the two main characters are riding in a taxi that is a stick shift. then, mention is made of putting the cab in "park." now, in angels and demons, I find numerous references to cell phones having dial tones--not ringtones, dial tones. having owned a cell phone in 2001, I can call that an error with some certainty. I don't know who to blame more, brown or his editor.

if john mayer ever has kids, they'll never have trouble falling asleep. can you imagine john mayer singing you a lullaby? my grown up eyes get heavy just thinking about it, and I mean that as a compliment.

going to wv for Easter this weekend. no special plans, just the usual. I always look forward to visiting my family, but I get frustrated with how bluefield limits the usual weekend possibilities. I just know that I'm going to want cook out burgers, tate street coffee, and barnes and noble browsing as soon as I hit the city limits.

I know I'm 12+ months late on this, but it's such an outrage to me that anyone should steal "the scream" (the munch painting). if I had to list the five works of art that, to me personally, must never be lost, it would be on there. and no one seems to be making a big enough deal about it to suit me. I'll bet the precious mona lisa would command a bit more attention.

on tv, people are forever taking their significant others to quiet, dignified restaurants to break up with them "so they won't make a scene." that's really wonky to me. hello? break it off in private--house, car, etcetera--then what does it matter? the more expensive the venue the more of a scene I'd feel obliged to make, myself.

apparently whenever something on a film set didn't go to greta garbo's liking, she threatened to go back to sweden. she got her way every time. that's so awesome. whenever something doesn't go my way from now on, I'm threatening to go back to sweden. that'll show em.

slim mints are a very effective diet aid. but not if you ever want to sleep again. I'm afraid that I may have to give them up in favor of getting back to my coveted eight hours per night.

best place to be in the 1920s: sitting around the algonquin round table. worst place to be: not sitting around the algonquin round table but on the shit list of someone who was.

I forgot to mention how much neat stuff I found when I cleaned off the bed in the front bedroom so the carpet cleaning folks wouldn't have so much to work around. most of what was piled on it has been there since we've moved in, I've been so loathe to sort through it. it included:

--cameras: one 35mm, one digital, and one mini dv video camera
--a stuffed alligator named starla
--many pieces of clothing, including two cashmere sweaters valued at approximately $380
--dvds and cds beyond counting
--a magic 8 ball
--an hp deskjet color printer
--a megaphone
--an overnight bag
--last year's tax return
--my graduation mortarboard

...and ever so much more.

sorry for the long silence. I've been spending most of my computer related time transferring all my crap from the old machine to the new one, an ongoing project.

I took a couple of well deserved days off last week, sleeping and eating too much. since the end of the quarter had passed I was hoping to return to a quieter, less strained office. wrong. I'm working more now than ever, over two hours of overtime tonight alone. I'm taking bets on when I finally just crack.

many thanks to charles for sending me his xanga link to add to my list on the left. he's a fabulous, witty, unique, and--dare I say it?--devastatingly handsome man who deserves to be much read.

I'm sure I have a lot more to say, but my brain is done for the night. I sit here, asking it to cook up witty repartee, and it's all, "uh uh. nope, I'm tired. get back to ya." so to bed.

oh, joy. oh, rapture. the glory that is a new computer. my old one just wasn't cutting it. full hard drive, and I could go downstairs and make a grilled cheese in the time it took to open firefox. I am now the adoring owner of a sony vaio vgc-ra840g. pentium d dual core processor (water cooled, no less), 250 gb hard drive (if I fill THAT up I've got issues), dvd burner, tv tuner, wireless everything, and way too many speakers. many other features I really don't need.

now, the ra840g hasn't been made for a couple of months--having been replaced with an almost identical model with a different name--but its technology is still top notch. compusa had exactly one left, the display. they knocked the price down and threw in two full years of on site service. the upshot? I got a $1400 computer for $880 today.

james was in town today, as was carl willis. great dinner out at tripp's. I forgot how much fun it can be talking to people that I don't live with! not that they aren't fun, but you know.

chemdry came today and freshened up the bedroom carpet. on thursday we had the repair guy in to remedy the thumping washing machine (courtesy of windsor, no charge to us--everything in the nor'easter is under warranty for one year). next goal, landscaping. we be gettin shit done up in this piece!

man, everything in this post is so exciting. to me, anyway. I'll stop boring all y'all for the time being. happy weekend!

I love knowing that there are people in the world crazier than I am. if I actually got vh1 classic, I'd watch the whole hour.

the imminent rise of wal-mart where the mighty carolina circle mall hath fallen is something that I've mentioned here before. since certain people-who-must-not-be-named refused to accompany me on a mission inside the derelict xanadu, here are some fabulous pictures from someone who did venture in. I'm not sure why I'm obsessed with the whole carolina circle affair, but there's a 19 page long thread on urbanplanet.org built up by others who are as well.

now that the sequel is forthcoming, I finally took it upon myself to watch basic instinct this weekend. y'know, that's a pretty damn good movie. and I don't even care about sharon stone's vagina.

justin and I received a $1200 check from wells fargo yesterday. they overestimated our escrow costs and are refunding us the excess money, as well as lowering our house payment permanently by $80 a month. talk about a nice surprise.

thanks be to josh for turning me onto the clientele. such a wonderful band. they're the musical equivalent of a slow, introspective walk through the streets of a small town on an autumn day, the scent of fallen leaves wafting up from your feet.

sorry, that was positively revolting. but they are.

by the way: if you're reading this and personally know me even the teeniest bit and have a blog/journal of your own, do me a favor and send me the link--provided that you don't mind if I link to you. I need to update my left side linkage. those of you over there who don't keep your posts up to date, shame on you. those of you who DO, thanks to you all. you help me remember when I had a social life.

no. NO. enn-ohh NO. absolutely not.

tell me this isn't off kilter. as most of y'all know, isaac hayes is the voice of chef on south park. and of course, south park viciously skewers every societal concept under the sun--I say this with the utmost respect. religion is no exception. over the seasons Jews, Christians, Mormons, etcetera have all been lampooned to the point of even making me blush.

but let the show make fun of scientologists--scientologists--and isaac hayes announces that he's walking.

so much for chef.

on the lighter side, I seem to be doing okay:

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7
Mind:	5.9
Body:	6.1
Spirit:	6.7
Friends/Family:	6.2
Love:	9.2
Finance:	8.1
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

more reasons why I'm a disturbed human being:

watching fatal attraction today, I found myself feeling more sympathy for glenn close than michael douglas.

I find websites like this compelling.

I think that socialized medicine is really a fantastic idea...oh, wait. that just makes me normal and sensible. strike this one.

[warning: this implicates other people] just before writing this, I was talking with ali about carl buddig lunch meat. we'd been talking about carl buddig lunch meat for quite some time. the only reason we stopped talking about carl buddig lunch meat was that my phone's battery died.

when I was a kid, I used to call shopping malls around the country and ask for paper directories. they mailed them. I collected them. I had dozens.

I get a little too excited about kitchen utensils. man, there's this honkin pizza cutter at tuesday morning that I want so bad...

ground fog gets me hot.

driving around town, I sometimes feel the urge to stop, get out, and just walk around. just because I'm passing by parts of the earth that I may never touch otherwise.

I really want to go to the cn tower in toronto, lie on the glass observation floor (1,122 feet above ground) and look down. reason this is disturbing: I'm afraid of heights.

I spend what little free time I have making blog posts like this.

lovely!

You're A Prayer for Owen Meany!

by John Irving

Despite humble and perhaps literally small beginnings, you inspire
faith in almost everyone you know. You are an agent of higher powers, and you manifest
this fact in mysterious and loud ways. A sense of destiny pervades your every waking
moment, and you prepare with great detail for destiny fulfilled. When you speak, IT
SOUNDS LIKE THIS!


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

classic quote (not sure from whom, just read it online somewheres): coming out of the closet is way too much like going through the wardrobe. it's always winter, never Christmas, and I just know there's an EVIL queen lurking about!

I'm really looking forward to the oscars, though I've only seen one of the big five. I missed most of them last year due to a fight with justin, although neither of us can remember what it was about. here's hoping history doesn't repeat itself, although I'm certainly not planning any altercations.

speaking of justin, after getting tired of my complaints about not having enough pics of him, he deemed two more photos suitable for thousand words, so they're in his gallery. I have some great ones of his cat as well (a.k.a. "black willow"), and will add them soon.

and speaking of movies, I know that everyone in the free world is going to blast me for this one...date movie = hilarious. juvenile and tasteless, but hilarious. it also reinforces my belief that alyson hannigan is a goddess. I want to give birth to her children.

of course, if we're talking buffy cast members, nicholas brendon wins out.

I can understand david boreanaz, but drooling over james marsters is just weird.

and I'm a dork. signing off.

saying that something is as easy as taking candy from a baby is awful. unless said baby is choking, why would you take candy from it? there are some sick fucking people in the world.

speaking of sick, I've been there. coughing my fool head off for a week, but I'm finally starting to mend.

(for want of anything better to say at the moment, some pretentious indie babble. so stop reading here if you don't care about music, you damn heathen)

the verdict is in on the life pursuit. this is a remarkable album. it comes across as a synthesis of all that they've accomplished thus far. the elements of kitsch and whimsy evident on dear catastrophe waitress are all here, combined with the introspective lyrical aspects of the band's earlier work. overall the sound is light and peppy, but don't be fooled: there's depth, and then some. it isn't my favorite record of theirs (will tigermilk ever really be trumped?), but it's a gem.

however, it's even easier to gush about rabbit fur coat, from jenny lewis (of rilo kiley) and the watson twins. have mercy. each rilo kiley record has had echos of a vintage country sound, one that lewis' voice is well suited to. rabbit fur coat is positively steeped in the kind of c & w that would make patsy cline feel proud. it sounds like ole jenny is finally doing what she's always wanted. the production is so clear and sharp she could be singing just over my shoulder. on rilo kiley albums (though I love em all) I've noticed that she tends to strain her vocals sometimes, making what could be sweet notes sound forced and harsh. here, she's consistently melodious and natural. stock up on kleenex, get a six pack of your fave american beer, and settle in with this one.

celebrated valentine's day this weekend. dinner at leblon. ever been to a brazilian steakhouse? if you like the idea of continuous meat, it's a good thing.

finally got around to getting the new belle & sebastian, the life pursuit, today. the damn thing's been out since tuesday--I'm slacking off! I'm withholding opinion on it, though, until I've given it 10-15 listens.

famous vocalists should dress in disguise, go to really lame karaoke contests, and sing their own songs. I'd do it. but then, my sense of humor is such that I'd really WANT to lose.

in this month's issue of cargo, monsieur jeremy piven. a sliver of chest is visible, and there is definitely some hair regrowth. maybe there's still hope. I know I'm always getting on my high horse about this, but any guy who routinely waxes his chest/stomach region may as well just cut his balls off, in my opinion. you're a man. take pride in what your testosterone has wrought!

that said, anything on the back and shoulders is negotiable. by all means, nair away.

for years I've been wanting to try jamaican blue mountain coffee. y'know, the stuff that's generally $30+ per pound? I bought a teeeeensy bag today at fresh market and brewed a bit. mmm. I think I understand the appeal, even if my wallet may never quite grasp it.

the quarter life crisis has hit. I really need to put some spice into my life. this drudging through the humdrum week for the promise of a cookie cutter weekend is wearing thin (of course, the time spent with justin makes every weekend worthwhile, but you know). I have little time for hobbies, same problem for extended learning, and I already have a sports car. so far the best I can come up with is taking an online course in esperanto. which, all things considered, is a pretty badass idea.

uck. so many waking hours spent at the office lately. more work equals more money, but sanity can't be bought. I need a rest.

the birthday was good. got the big present from my parents: a chest freezer. am I domestic or what? now when mayfield birthday cake ice cream is buy one get one free I can stock up and get even fatter!

at some point in life I want to become a figurehead of some positive group or organization. figureheads really have it made. all the perks, all the visibility, none of the legwork. it seems like a pretty decent gig.

I have an idea for a new hobby. I'm going to buy a bicycle and equip it with a wire basket and a bell. I'm going to take it to downtown gso around 5:00 and look for pedestrians who seem to be in a hurry. I will then proceed to ride around them in circles ringing my bell and impeding their progress as much as possible. I think it would be good clean fun.

okay, time to clear something up. many of you have heard the rumors of colin farrell's...natural endowments. and of course, there was the whole sex tape leakage that his attorneys managed to get tightly under control. well, almost. let's just say that the file still lurks in some seedy back alleys of the information superhighway.

personally, I call him a "high average." but if most people regard him as humongous, my self esteem should really be a lot higher than it is.

sorry about the period of silence. the past couple of weeks have been very emotional and difficult. I won't get into specifics here; besides, with biological depression compounding everything as usual, anything I could take the time to mention would just be the tip of one big mysterious iceberg. and it's so much easier for me to put a happy face on things in person. when I write I can unwittingly wax overdramatic, hence the not writing. suffice it to say that I'm feeling much more stable, back to being just as happy as a pig in...um, pig heaven or something.

since my e-hiatus was also a break from non-line writing, the brokeback mountain review has yet to see the pixeled page. will it? I'm not sure. for one thing, a lot of the really strong insights I wanted to get down went poof. for another, I'm not sure if I really want to revive petrified fountain or just let it continue to moulder. when I started it up it was so much fun, but at that time I was at a very different place in life. it was so much more...relevant. now doing full length movie reviews just seems like incredibly snooty intellectual masturbation. as opposed to the downmarket anti-intellectual masturbation I do with this blog. we'll see.

birthday's on sunday. hopefully the parents will be able to make it down. as those of you familiar with my policy on aging may be aware, I have only one more birthday for the next thirteen years. I will stop at 26, since to me 27 sounds much too close to 30. I will stay at 26 until I am 39, then rethink my numeric options.

tell you what, though. I'm afraid that within the next year I'm going to have to start dyeing my hair, seriously. the premature threads of gray have been much noticed. and that's not paranoia talking, that's PEOPLE talking, saying to my face, "look! gray hair!" I can understand the distinguished gray thing, but I think that only works post 40. until then it's all about the grecian formula.

anyone catch peter sarsgaard on snl last night? woof. move over aloysius--I think I've found a new teddy bear.

I am really getting perverted in my old age.

I hate these sleepless weekend nights. it's impossible to totally reset my internal clock for normal hours for two days a week, so I always end up slipping out of bed and footling about the house. poor justin, sleeping alone. dreaming of me? perhaps. I dream of justin sometimes. in my subconscious he's exactly the same--face, body, voice. because when you find someone who is so completely perfect for you, it's ridiculous to idealize them in dreams. he's turned my life--every waking and sleeping hour--into the greatest dream I've ever had.

I guess I'd better go and get a late night snack before you, Constant Reader, start to throw up.

back with more soon, but for now just one REALLY important announcement:

after nearly twenty four years of periodic exposure, I've concluded that "harper valley p.t.a." (the original jeannie c. riley version) is the greatest song ever. feel free to argue against that, but I should go ahead and tell you that you'll be wrong.

one more thing and then I'm REALLY going to bed.

a dear friend and I were discussing honorary doctorates the other day.

this just in: yahoo serious has one.