Chunky, phlegmy pieces of blog

Just a quickie post to let you know I love you prior to heading into my test. People I love: Fungushead, my dog, Natalie Portman, Alan Thicke, Bea Arthur and my grandmother. Note that the preceding list is by no means comprehensive, and if you assume that I don't love you becuase you're not on the list, you might be wrong. You, however, may be right. Ask me.

There we go... I'm back out of the blogging rut. People actually missed my blog. Isn't that sweet?

The New York Post has reported that TNN will be airing new episodes of the cult cartoon classic (and a personal favorite) Ren and Stimpy (old link removed next year. I have to dig out my happy helmet to celebrate.

I have this sneaking suspicion that this term is going to suck scroat. I'm already worn out and it's the second day of the Summer I term. Kill me now.

I hate aqueous chemistry. Let's just leave it at that.

Spanky says that I've been slacking off with the blog. He's right, I have been a slacker as of late. I suck.

Caramelhead and I rented a few DVDs to pass the thunderstormy weekend away. Neither of us cared much for Teaching Mrs. Tingle. I was pleasantly surprised that she liked The Usual Suspects (one of my favorite movies), although Benicio Del Toro had something to do with that. She didn't make it through Taxi Driver, though. Once you get past how young Robert De Niro, Cybill Shepherd, Harvey Keitel and especially Jodie Foster look, the movie takes a life of its own. Scorsese alludes to De Niro's Bickle being a Vietnam vet (there's an NVA flag in his apartment), but this alone does not seem to explain his dissatisfaction with New York, and in general, urban decay. I would've liked to have seen an extra 10 minutes added to the film to give more insight to Bickle's descent. I'm not asking for war scenes -- that would verge on being cliched -- just some more narrative from Bickle's journal. It's in these journal entries that Bickle seem most human, and thus the more likely protagonist. As for Shepherd, her character is treated more as a literary device than an actual character. Even with her limited screen time, she manages to fill the screen with a timeless, coy sexiness. That, my friends, is a woman.

Caramelhead and I test drove a Volkswagen Jetta today. I was unimpressed. We tested the 2002 GLS model, with the 2.0 litre engine and automatic transmission, which seemed to be too little oomph for the car. The car wasn't as responsive as I'd hoped when kicking into the passing gear. Leg room was scarce, as well. No Jetta for Gord.

I find this site highly amusing. What's Better... the Milky Way galaxy or Alec Guinness' Obi Wan? Spam or a giant statue of a buffalo? Dr. Dre or Robert Smith. Mad Magazine's Spy vs. Spy or polar bears. You can vote for your favorites.

I once heard that every Fiji fraternity house has an octagonal "secret" room. I'm not sure if Twitch knows what the hell he's talking about (he rarely does), but I thought it was worth mentioning. I guess I was wrong. Maybe the Phi Gamma Delta founders had a stop sign fetish.

Sigh. My US History is almost done with. So far, so good. Just two more papers and a bullshit exam left to do.

I really need to spend some time on my Web site. I need to finish setting up my META tags and finish changing the font on the Toban articles. Now that I've ditched WorldNet, I need to change all the mailto and link rev tags on every page. Ugh.

I'm developing an unhealthy affection for Natalie Portman. I just thought that needed to be said.

Oh sad, sad day. Will Ferrell completed his last episode of SNL. No more Celebrity Jeopardy (it was getting old anyway), Neil Diamond (is it me or was Ferrell a better Neil Diamond than the real Neil Diamond two nights ago?) or Lovers (yipes!) skits.

While on the topic of SNL, check out Saturday Night Live Transcripts. Every episode listed by skit (some skits have complete transcripts), cast member or guest host. Sweeeeet!

I suck. My blog sucks. Well, the last two weeks of it has.

My DSL was activated two days ago. This means two things:
-- The AT&T mirror to this site will be disappearing soon, as I will be cancelling my dial-up account.
-- I'll be changing the e-mail link at the bottom of these pages to my Hotmail account. Hell, I get enough spam there anyways...

Not much to say right now... I'm just downloading Winamp skins and debating the merits of bed. Of course, most of the crap that Winamp.com has to offer are anime skins, skins dedicated to some artist or another (c'mon... Tylene? Sector Seven? Who the fuck are they?) or some dimwit's concept of art, which is usually some random .gif plastered over the default skin buttons. I'm all for a skin with a picture of a firey penis. Or a dead armadillo lying at the side of the road. Abe Vigoda... an Abe Vigoda skin would make me happy.

This courtesy of the fine folks at blogdex. CNN's article on Girls Gone Wild for the homeless set. Bumfights pits homeless people against each other in hand-to-hand combat and Jackass-style stunts. Priceless.

I'm a bad, bad blogger. Exams are done, and save for the few English essays I have yet to spit out (sample topic: "All the whores in Hollywood are pretty and virtuous"), the semester is done.

Kyoto Protocol be damned. Well, in theory I support the reduction of industrial carbon dioxide emissions, I'm pretty sure my car doesn't. Orville, my poor, abused Pontiac 6000, has sprung an oil leak (or two?). The mechanics at Alan Young Pontiac/Buick/GMC quoted me prices of $66 to determine where the leak is and, depending on the location of the leak(s), upwards of $1100 to fix the problem. Screw that. My father-in-law has an agreement-in-principle with a local mechanic in Moorhead, MN to repair cars at cheap-assed priced. All that I have to do is put up with the stench of burning motor oil for another seven weeks or so.

I've taken the reins of a new virtual soccer club at Hattrick, this time located in virtual Ft. Worth, TX. My club is weak, but probably no more than those of my immediate competition in Div IV.48. For the record, my previous team is still playing away without me, and won their latest game in a 7-1 blow-out. If that keeps up, they'll cruise to the division championships and be promoted to the Premier League. That's not going to happen, as my account will timeout in 6 weeks or so and the team will dissolve itself. Only one player will be rescued from digital oblivion, my star midfielder Greg Bannerman, who has one goal in two international appearances with the imaginary Scottish National Team.

More babbling to come...

After taking two days off from my blog, I have a few things to air out...

Firstly, whoever was assigned to review my blog for the Peer-2-Peer Review Project (old link removed) decided it wasn't worth the effort, and no review was posted for this hallowed page. Fuck. My own review was posted here a while ago, so I will spare you the repost.

These pages will be migrated over to a new host soon enough, as my over-priced DSL is on the way. I'm leery of entering into a one-year contract, but dial-up is slowly killing me. I have to change my local phone provider (and thus, my phone number), for which they're nailing me with an additional fee.

My imaginary soccer team may be disbanded, as my real-life American residence apparently bars me from competing in virtual Scotland. The fuckers couldn't bother telling me this during the changeover period, when I could uproot my team and move it to virtual Texas. No, they had to wait until after I "played" my first simulated game of the season, then locking me out of my account.

That noise had better not have been my dog farting again.

Here is my list of companies that consistently produce great advertisements:
-- Volkswagen
-- thetruth.com
-- Mike's Hard Lemonade
-- Nike
and, as of late...
-- Target

And here is my list of companies that air commercials that routinely make me want to vomit:
-- Coca-Cola
-- McCain's
-- Yaffa

Caramelhead and I just saw Y Tu Mamá También. I was impressed. It had hard-on inducing sex scenes, good dialogue and turned out to be an enlightening look into a world of Mexican politics, interpersonal relationships and disaffected upper- and middle-class youths. Did I mention the sex scenes were hot?

On the topic of movies, I just saw the domestic grosses from last weekend. Not surprisingly, The Scorpion King topped the list again. What did impress me was that Jason X finished ahead of Life Or Something Like It, even though Life played on roughly half again as many screens.

Oh my god. Michelina's has trotted out the Macarena for yet another commercial. This one, however, does have a hot redhead, so it's not completely without merit...

I'm surprised that I don't have a series of bedsores, considering how I "slept the shit out of my bed" last night, to use the words of my good friend Bryan.

This tidbit of news comes from The Sun: Britney Spears isn't the virgin she claims to be (old link removed). Justin Timberlake was overheard telling someone on an airplane that he knew firsthand. Whether that means that he voided her membership card personally, or that he wasn't the first Pooh Bear to stuck his hand in Spears' honeypot will need to be left to speculation.

Also from The Sun (this time from their 'Dirty Old Man Desk'), pubescent opera singer Charlotte Church has the nicest ass in Britain (old link removed). The Sun lists the 16-year old soprano's measurements at 36-26-36, which officially crosses into the realm of "Stuff I Didn't Need To Know." In related news, the Weekly World News chose Mary Kate Olsen as having the "Hottest Vulva of the Century."

I'm 30-some hours into my all-nighter and it's become surreal. Not really surreal, but weird. When I arrived at work, it seemed like I was beginning my shift at its end -- it was 5:30 and it felt like 9:30. Now it's nearly 8:00 and I feel refreshed, as if my work day had just started. It must be the Red Bull talking. Where was that shit four years ago?

One thing about drinking Pepsi, Red Bull and coffee by the gallon is that the occasional need to sprint to the lavatory becomes apparent. Like now, for instance. Zounds.

Well, crappy English class wasn't so crappy today! Woo! I can see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, as far as the school year is concerned. Just a couple of labs to hand in and a final test to finish off my Oceanography lab. After that, it's a handful of essays in a few classes, and final exams. That's it. Yay me!

This is what happens when fraternity men don't practice self-restraint. This is why Manitoba DU didn't get a dog... SAE boys lose their charter for abusing a pig (old link removed). No, not a nasty sorority girl...an pig. A drunk, sunburnt, tailless pig.

This from FARK.com...

Mustard Man is one of the commonly-used "cliché" images (along with Domo-Kun, Cliché Kitty, Wil Wheaton et al) in FARK's Photoshop contests. If you know this man, please click on the wanted posted above!