Monday, April 25, 2005

the unlinked post 4.25.05

i will get back to blogging again soon; though i don't know why i should. here is an inaptly-named trilogy of reasons not to blog:

1. everything i want to say is too personal. like how i hate people who cannot use proper grammar/ grammar rules at all. how i would like to go on and on about how it's very boring to read people's posts on what they ate for dinner. how i would like to give advice such as "west indian/ caribbean men, stop hitting on homely, funny-looking white women. yes, they will be flattered and yes, they may take you home to help them with their dancehall or hip hop riddims; but then they go and tell their friends and we all get objectified and pigeonholed." i am a culprit too. friends, help me stop. i'm not the hottest fella but really... help me stop.

2. i have a burr up my ass. so when i talk about how stupid my little brother is, i don't want to hear the advancement of that concept, or memories of other times when my brother is stupid. i will insult him myself. he's family, after all. i am protective. there is more but it would personally attack some readers, and since i have 5, i don't want to cut out 40% of my readership. suffice to say, i am sensitive and have a burr up my ass. constructive commentary and criticism is good, but a person should know when they have crossed constructive and are being a jackass. silver.

3. i ain't got no job.

4. it's time to start working on fiction, on the NEW AND IMPROVED short story club, and on the new sports blog, which will hopefully enlist the skills of m-jr and perhaps other people, and will have shorts posts such as this:

i am so happy for adrian macpherson - the seminole, the gambler, the arena football qb, and now the 5th round pick of the n'awlins saints. aaron brooks' 14-40 passing days are bad quarterbacking. the team doesn't win, the offensive system is "chuck it long and go get it;" one of these days, the new orleans football franchise should try having a couple of winning seasons in a row before they become an NFL europe outpost, or before the fans sober up and start throwing spiked beads at the players.

5. i was up at almost 1 am this morning; and not just because i dutch oven'd myself. hours before an AM meeting that should be disastrously funny, i was thinking about how i should get a date book. electronic ones are uninspiring; iCal and Palm's calendar's annoy me; a wall calendar is too large to take with me; and pocket planners tend to have lines when i want open space. maybe a long flat week-long top-flipping book. then i realized it's true what some friends have said-- i am finicky.

hitchhiker's guide comes out this weekend. i'll be going with m-jr, the wondertwin, the lovely jaime, rachel, and el-d the curly.

p.s. last week i was in the park with samuelito and lana-p and we saw this couple lovingly plucking each other's eyebrows. seriously. thanks for the pic, lana.
eyebrowlove

p.p.s. what's the bug in your saddle?

5 comments:

eben said...

you dutch oven'd yourself? uh, i guess instead of opening a big jar of vaseline, you just ate a big plate a meatballs.

marge said...

What the hell's a Dutch oven? Apart from being a household appliance in Holland. I only got to grips with donkey punching recently, now there's dutch ovenin'..? You people make me sick and slightly horny.

Pico said...

to dutch oven a person is to, while under the comfort of bed linens, release flatulence and raise the sheets to spread the effect. the funk would normally stay down, unnoticed by the farter or any partners in bed; but a mischeivous person can choose to fan the sheets to let him/herself or others know just how awful the smell was.

marge, i know you have done it.

khadijah said...

Mmmmmmmmmm, dutch ovens... so cozy! so warm!

So--the bug up my arse is when people read over my shoulder at the internet cafe. And don't even pretend not to be doing so. Don't even try. Just take a long gander, and then, once caught, try and glaze their eyes over like they're just "spacing out"... directly at my computer screen. C'mon, man, be covert.

I also hate how my cell phone -- hell, anything I'm scrounging for at the moment -- COMPLETELY DISAPPEARS into the black hole of my purse. Who cares if you can't relate. It pisses me off. I want to do my purse physical harm. I know my purse isn't a person, but it's an issue cuz I'm trying to call you right now, Pico.

marge said...

Yeah your Mom hates it when I do that.