March 22, 2002 (???? ?.m. CST)
I really need to set up an archive page. Or two.

I'm going to try the smaller font size for a while, just to see how it works. I may experiment with the font to see if I can make this page cleaner.

Caramelhead and I were supposed to have our taxes done on Tuesday, but Mother Nature did not will it to be so. Instead, we were treated to a fierce thunderstorm, which knocked out most of the neighborhood's electricity (but thankfully not ours), including that of H&R Block.

March 21, 2002 (11:23 p.m. CST)
*5*

1. What is your favorite time of year? -- Winter. Bitter cold winter. Living in Texas takes some of the lustre off of that though...

2. What is it about your favorite season that, well, makes it your favorite season? -- When I was living in Winnipeg, it was the bitter cold and the fact that I can tolerate the cold so well (because of my body's freakish propensity for pumping out heat). Now that I'm in Texas, it's the fact that everybody at home is miserable during winter and I'm wearing shorts while grilling on my balcony on February 28th.

3. What is your least favorite time of year? Why? -- Probably that wet, dismal period between the end of winter and the honest-to-goodness start of spring.

4. Do you do anything to celebrate or recognize the changing of seasons? -- Not really. In Winnipeg, the end of winter is marked by the ritual tucking in of the block heater cords. No, those aren't cords for electric cars, they're electric heaters that prevent engine blocks from seizing in -40 C temperatures.

5. What's your favorite thing to do outside? -- Rugby, cycling, walking/ hiking and chipping away at outcrops with a rock hammer.

March 19, 2002 (12:00 a.m. CST)
I have hair. Well, that goes without saying, but I have too much hair. Nearly too much. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't smelly hair.

We bought our dog a rawhide bone that's much too big for her. It's amusing watching her struggling with the dog-logistics of gnawing it into submission.

Jon Stewart just used the phrase "minor cock-disagreements" on The Daily Show.

March 18, 2002 (4:28 p.m. CST)
Just a short post for now...I thought I would link to The Angry Clam. It's a political blog that seems to poke fun at both sides of the political spectrum of California politics. Have fun, kids.

March 16, 2002 (2:53 p.m. CST)
Five for figh...er...perusing

1. What's your favorite animal? -- Goats...definately goats. They're versatile, stubborn and erotic...just like me.

2. What pets have you had in your lifetime? -- Several dogs, a few cats and a tank full of goldfish. Currently, we have one dog, Cassie, who happens to be afraid of her own farts. My wife owns a horse, Meagan, who will be joining us in Texas next month.

3. Is there any specific pet that you've wanted but never had? Why? -- Not really, I've had inklings to get various pets, but usually my living conditions have prevented me, and I let the matter drop. Now that I have my own (pet-friendly) apartment, I'm able to get pets galore.

4. Are you allergic to any animals? -- Just cats, but I've never liked them much anyways.

5. Do you have any 'pet' pet peeves (your pets or others')? -- Well, my dog smells a bit. And she's a bit clingy. However, she doesn't shit on the floor or chew things, so it could be much worse. As far as pets belonging to other people, I only take offence to cases of abuse or neglect. That can turn Gord into a violent man.

March 15, 2002 (9:10 a.m. CST)
Alas, my streak is broken.

I brought up the page for the Friday Five only to find out there won't be one this week. Ugh. I don't have much else to say... I overslept and can't get the sleepy shit out of my eyes (metaphorically, of course).

March 13, 2002 (9:25 p.m. CST)
This just in from the "Beg For Your Job, Bitch" department...apparently all of the supervisors at work are being made to "re-interview" for their positions, which seems to step right out of the pages of American Beauty. Ah, Comcast... cleaning up the deadwood. Just don't fuck up and fire the wrong people.

I'm picking up Caramelhead from the airport in about an hour. I hope she doesn't mind that the apartment hasn't been completely disinfected. A little infection is a good thing in my books.

March 13, 2002 (2:45 p.m. CST)
Regarding my earlier post about TIffany's funbags, I just though of something. Playboy compared the songs on her new album to those of Alanis Morissette. It's funny, Morissette began her career as "Alanis," a cheap Canadian knock-off of teen popsters Tiffany and Debbie (oh... sorry, Deborah) Gibson. Ah yes, now the student becomes the master. How very Kung Fu.

I'm getting my green card! I'm getting my green card!

March 13, 2002 (12:51 a.m. CST)
Heh. One reason I'm posting this entry is to extend my streak of consecutive days with an update to my Web site. Silly me.

I bought the new issue of Playboy tonight. Eighties pop singer Tiffany is the cover girl, dropping her drawers for us all. I bought it partly out of curiosity, and partly out of the desire to fulfill a 15-year old fantasy. I know she's been out of the limelight for sometime, but from where'd those funbags sprout?

March 12, 2002 (10:48 p.m. CST)
Musicmatch is being a twat. I've reinstalled it four times, and it fails to load everytime, but only if I register it. I even tried installing an older copy to no avail. The question now is whether I continue to entreat their tech support department for help, or just wait until I reinstall Windows. Also disturbing is the lack of new drivers for my sound card. Considering that Microsoft has noted (in their online knowledge database) that one of the Soundblaster Live driver files as having a known conflict in W2K, one would think that an updated file would be issued by Creative. Nope.

Seven-car pileup on Hwy 183. Ouch...it makes me glad I don't take that route home on my commute anymore. Yes, I am a mercenary bastard, and I do hope everyone is okay.

I must thank UTA for their lax monitoring of the computers in the Ransom Hall lab. With relative ease, you can choose any one of the many P2P applications surreptitiously installed on the computers to download copyrighted material, use the CD-RW drive to copy the songs and take them home. All of this, of course is a hypothetical situation; I would never use university property to violate intellectual property laws. Of course.

March 11, 2002 (1:46 p.m. CST)
I need to clean. Fungushead gets back in two days, so I need to appease her by making the place presentable. Dishes, vacuuming, bathrooms, laundry. Ugh. I need a hot Siberian maid...I have something that needs cleaning. I'm a fountain of wit tonight, fuck.

March 11, 2002 (1:46 p.m. CST)
Yeah, yeah...I didn't post yesterday. Sue me.

After watching Evolution, I have reaffirmed my crush on Julianne Moore. Unlike most of my celebrity crushes of the past (Nicole Kidman, Jodie Foster, Janeane Garofalo), Julianne is contentedly married and bearing children. I'm tempted to go out and rent Boogie Nights again, just to see her boobies. Seeing Heather Graham's boobies wouldn't hurt, either. Did I just use the word "boobies" in two consecutive sentences? Yikes.

I think that after I finish my Crappy Ex-Flame rants, I may do a series of rants on my Celebrity Crushes. Either that, or "Shirts I've Owned."

March 9, 2002 (9:27 p.m. CST)
I'm restless. Shit on TV, not patient enough to do any homework or reading. So, I'm just sitting here on the computer, waiting for LimeWire to finish downloading. My dog is contenting herself with a rawhide bone, but looks to be done in less than 10 minutes. I'm tempted to run to Blockbuster to get a DVD, just to occupy myself.

I'm indecisive as well. Up until I came across the VH1 Def Leppard Marathon (ahh, memories of Grade 10), I couldn't settle on any of the shitty programs on TV. I can't decide what to have for supper. I'm sure picking out a DVD (assuming I get one) will be equally as frustrating.

I did decide on my movie this afternoon, though...I saw The Time Machine. Unfortunately, the reviews were accurate. Strangely enough, the worst CGI effect wasn't any of the 800,000-years-in-the-future scenes, but one of the late 19th Century scenes. Big budget sci-fi movies with bad CGI deserve bad reviews. Those burdened with silly plots (with apologies to H. G. Wells) deserve anal rapings in the press.

Currently on TV -- Def Leppard's In The Round In Your Face on VH1. Yes, Joe, I wanna rock 'n' roll too.

March 9, 2002 (1:50 p.m. CST)
Fungushead's upset I took today off from work. Gads. Anyway, I'm off to the Golden Corral (mmm...greasy) and then to a matinee of The Time Machine...or maybe All About The Benjamins... Jeez, can't I find a decent movie that I haven't seen yet? Even Jimmy Neutron's starting to look good, ffs. Screw it, I'll live and die by H. G. Wells.

March 8, 2002 (11:23 p.m. CST)
Ask me if I'm bitter. Gord, are you bitter? Damn straight I'm bitter! Some cheesedick is parked in my parking spot. For now, all I've done is left a polite, but pointed, note on his/her windshield. If the car's still there tomorrow, I'll park directly behind his car, blocking it in, with a more-pointed and less-polite note left behind. Maybe I'll just call the complex and demand they tow it away instead...

March 7, 2002 (11:29 p.m. CST)
Oooh...my first Friday Five!

1. What makes you homesick? -- The little things about Canada that I miss...Good Host Iced Tea, MuchMusic, cheap tuition, Labatt 50 and, of course, my friends and family.

2. Where is "home" for you? Is it where you are living now, or somewhere else? -- As of this past summer, Dallas-Ft. Worth, Texas.

3. What makes it home for you? People? Things? -- Home is wherever Fungushead and I live. You have to make the best of what you have...and quit bitching. As for things, the most important things you take with you (or import, if they're consumable).

4. Where is the furthest you've been from home, miles-wise? -- Approximately 1392 miles, the distance from Winnipeg to Houston, TX, during a trip with my wife last summer.

5. What are your plans for this weekend? -- Fungushead is heading back to Fargo-Moorhead to visit her parents, so I have the run of the apartment. I'm taking a day off from work on Saturday, which should give me time to catch up on homework, work on the Web site and maybe catch a matinee movie. Saturday evening, I plan to gorge myself at the Golden Corral. I'll spend much of Sunday on a field trip for my Advanced Carbonates class, tooling around Ft. Worth looking at rock outcrops.

March 6, 2002 (10:58 a.m. CST)
It's been a strange day, indeed. My crappy upstairs neighbor (not to be confused with my crappy, truck-crashin' neighbor downstairs) had his late-night judo school open again. I actually tried to get to bed early last night, but was woken up at 1 a.m. or so by the thumping upstairs. Thus, to keep from waking Caramelhead up, I crashed on the couch. Not a good night's sleep by any means. I may take a nap this afternoon, prior to leaving for work...

I also forgot my wallet, which is something I rarely do. I'll have to go hungry until I get home again and finish off my Romano's Macaroni Grill lasagna and chicken parmigiano. That, combined with my need to shave, change into work clothes and walk the dog, will cut into naptime. I miss being the househusband. :(

Why do the Num Lock keys at all the UTA computers turn themselves off at random intervals? Beats the crap out of me...

March 5, 2002 (3:25 a.m. CST)
I was puttering about the Web, reading other peoples blogs when I stumbled across Rob's Amazing Poem Generator. After a few attempts at making poetry out of most of my Web pages (including this one), it carved the Quotes page into this:

The two go together. Kristin, at Perkins, 
on the response 
of like Yanni to the baptism 
of beverages during the had 
guns. And fraternity 
brother Eric 
Robert and me Just 
two go ahead, ask me while driving 
to Kristin. to me while on your 
butt. My sig file.

March 5, 2002 (12:48 a.m. CST)
At first, I thought the ads for MTV's The Osbournes were in jest. A send-up of the reality TV genre. Or maybe an ongoing ad campaign. Maybe Ozzy was going to host the VMA's. I, much to my delight, was wrong. As Bill Simmons (ESPN.com's Sports Guy) would say, "Good times." Good times, indeed. Shit like this drives a man to TiVo.

Starting this week, I'll be participating in The Friday Five. I've also registered at .Blog (old link removed), just to drive up my traffic. Once again, that vanity thing rears its head.

March 4, 2002 (9:49 p.m. CST)
My downstairs neighbor -- the one with the shitty, loud band -- ran his dumpy yellow truck into a pole last weekend. I now believe in the cosmic balance of things. I'm convinced that the fates are punishing him for holding band practices at 3 am or, more likely, for insulting my "faggotty" dog. In Texas, you never poke fun at a man's dog.

March 4, 2002 (12:54 a.m. CST)
Guess what I saw at the movie theatre? Strangely enough, a tiger cub petting zoo. No maulings to report, but I think that one randy tiger cub was getting a bit hungry.

March 2, 2002 (6:36 p.m. CST)
According to a Dallas Observer story, there are more tigers in the state of Texas than all of India. And they're in the backyards of people's homes. Eating small children. I'm vsure Kipling could write a refrain or two about this...

March 2, 2002 (2:32 p.m. CST)
Work isn't sucking as much as I expected. We've openly admitted to people that the cable technicians and installers likely will not make it out today, which has drastically reduced our call volume.

The drive to work would've been much better, had it not been for the odd driver (or five) that insist on traveling no faster than 30 mph on major highways. Yes, it is icy and cold, but most of the highways were ice-free by noon, which means YOU CAN DRIVE A LITTLE FASTER, JIZZLICKER! Sorry, that needed to be said.

March 2, 2002 (3:31 a.m. CST)
This is probably as cold as I've ever seen since I moved to Texas. Bitter 40 mph winds, freezing rain...and me in my t-shirt.

March 1, 2002 (8:57 p.m. CST)
I'm a naughty little boy. Very, very naughty. I'm blogging from work, bucking the essentially draconian Internet policy of my workplace. Well, work is dead anyays, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal. Until they catch me, that is. Our systems personnel, however, don't seem to do much in the way of IP monitoring, so my concern is limited.

Caramelhead and I are going to see 40 Days & 40 Nights on Sunday. Once upon a time, I tried swearing off "self-gratification." I think I lasted three days. My memory tends to be sketchy when I wake up in the morning, and even sketchier when I have a chubby. I think you can piece the rest together...

March 1, 2002 (1:19 p.m. CST)
God bless Comedy Central. It broadcasts several of my favorite shows (Win Ben Stein's Money, Battlebots (they can keep Carmen Electra, however), Sports Night (although it was added to this list somewhat belatedly) and now Beat The Geeks. I have my suspicions that the network already is preparing next year's "Heroes of Black Comedy." There are notable exceptions to their current list of featured comics: Bill Cosby, Eddie Murphy, the Wayans Brothers (all 93 of them)...the list goes on.

February 28, 2002 (1:51 p.m. CST)
A correction to my previous entry: I got free Subway. I got free Subway. You don't have no Subway. 'Cause your mom's on welfare.

I took a walk through the bound periodical section at UTA's Central Library. I felt like pulling my shirt over my head and playing with my nipples, I was so excited. My old university had canceled subscriptions to may journals to cut costs, so naturally I was titilated to see the selection here. On a whim, I picked up a bound copy of Canadian Journal of Earth Sciences, just to see if I could find anything by a former prof of mine. The journal had three editions: January through March of 1994. January's edition dealt with carbonates in Labrador, so no U of M profs could be found. I was about to give up, until I got to the last paper in the March edition, co-written by J. T. T. -- Jimmy the Devil, himself! I feel the need to do a sausage test.

February 28, 2002 (12:02 p.m. CST)
I get free pizza. I get free pizza. You don't have no pizza. 'Cause your mom's on welfare.

February 28, 2002 (11:21 a.m. CST)
As February draws to a close, I let my mind wander. Among the things that I consider: how much I do not miss Winnipeg winters...yet, how much traffic will suck when construction starts on Cooper St. (in Arlington, my route to school), whether or not INS will get off their asses and process my green card application, whether or not Southwest Bell will get off their asses and add more DSL ports at my apartment, how much of a raise I can expect next month and if watching the Texas Rangers this year will be as comical as I think it has the potential to be.

I also wonder if anybody bothers reading this.

I am in the process of writing a new rant, one that will give me a chance to flex my geopolitical brainiac muscle. As for the Rants page, I have a few plans in store. I think I'll write a short intro to the page, just to make it more accessible. I may move the Favorites rants to their own page soon. We'll see...

February 27, 2002 (2:51 p.m. CST)
Fungushead got her cast off, and the prognosis looks good.

I wish I didn't have to go to work. Goddamn customers. Pay your bill and we won't turn off your cable converters. And quit your whining. And no, I won't waive the reconnection fee, bitch. Oh, if I could only say things like that.

February 27, 2002 (1:28 a.m. CST)
Fungushead gets her cast off later this morning. Whee!

February 26, 2002 (4:55 p.m. CST)
Bloody 'ell! UTA's network went down in the middle of my update half and hour ago. At least I got my rant done. "Rant?" you say? Yes, I posted the Crappy Ex-Flame Rant #11 earlier today.

As for the UTA, I haven't quite figured out the blackboards here yet. Actually, I should say brownboards. Or tanboards. It's certainly not the most ideal color for white chalk. Thankfully my chemistry lecture hall uses honest-to-goodness blackboards.

Some things that differentiate this blog from most others:
a) I prefer not to use Blogger or Blogspot. I don't want to give an outside site FTP access to my Web accounts (and with WorldNet, it wouldn't be able to get past the firewall anyways). Plus, it'd just be one more site to maintain, which is a pain in the ass considering that I can do everything that Blogger does myself, using raw HTML.
b) I don't use a miniscule Arial font. Or peach/purple/white color combinations. I prefer my blogs readable, thank you.
c) In a related area, I prefer to use proper English spelling and grammar (wherever possible). I'm not saying that this makes my blog better, just perhaps more accessible. Two-and-a-half years of writing for a newspaper does that to you.

There are, however, a number of well-written blogs that I find myself visiting on a regular basis. I will provide links soon.

February 25, 2002 (1:43 a.m. CST)
Against my better judgment, I dragged my wife to see Britney Spears' "Crossroads" this aftenoon. It wasn't quite the train wreck I expected, but I'd be lieing if I said that no twisted metal was involved. It was like "Dude, Where's My Car?" -- which I saw during its opening weekend -- a necessary pain.

I must compliment the SLOC on tonight's closing ceremonies. I doubt I could have done a better job: KISS, robot dancers and Vespa scooters! My memory flits back to the opening ceremonies of the 1988 Seoul Olympics. They released thousands of doves, many of which decided that the Olympic Brazier would be a nice place to roost. Oops.

February 24, 2002 (3:28 a.m. CST)
There's something strangely cathartic about watching two of your countrymen win Olympic medals in the same short track speed skating event -- a sport which you have never seen live, or at all excepting the Olympics -- on a tape-delayed broadcast.

I just may change my name to "Yang Yang (G)."

February 24, 2002 (2:21 a.m. CST)
Well, the long and arduous process of reinstalling all of my applications is almost done. BPFTP is working, though it's being a twat about uploading an Excel document. It could be WorldNet that's being the twat, but that has yet to be determined.

A quick aside to my post from a few days ago...good for Sarah Hughes. Good for ISU judges. Boo on the Russian Olympic Committee. And those dirty old men out there, have faith. I know you're upset that the cutest two of the three Americans missed out on the gold, but look at what four years has done for Tara Lipinski. You'd nail 'er, now. And, once the rest of those hormones kick in, you'd nail Hughes, too. Pigs.

Just for the record, I am Emmitt Smith. And I grill with George. And I'm falling in love with Rachel. Fucking NBC.

February 21, 2002 (1:24 p.m. CST)
There are two reasons I've let the page go unattended in the last week. Firstly, my in-laws were in town. Secondly, I decided to reinstall Windows (Win2K again, seeing as how WinMe blows goats. Nasty goats that smell. And bite.) and have yet to get BPFTP reinstalled. That should happen tonight, probably while my wife is watching figure skating.

On a related note, wouldn't you just hate to be a member of the ISU (International Skating Union) board right now? So much for that holiday in the Riviera you booked bucko, you have judging controversies in figure skating *and* short track speed skating to worry about.

And call me nuts, but wouldn't it be pretty damn sexy to see a Kwan-Cohen catfight sometime in the next few days? We'll start with a mid-ice collision in which both skaters are bruised, but determined to compete. Both then lose a narrow decision to Slutskaya, and then ravage each other in the press for knocking the other off their game. Finally, the two meet by chance in the airport next Monday, get into a fight in a secured area and cause a complete shutdown of the airport, stranding thousands of international travelers. Man, that'd be hot. (Emphasis for sarcasm.)

"Sweep the leg, Elvis!"

I think I know too much about figure skating for a self-professed heterosexual. You decide.

February 15, 2002 (2:55 p.m. CST)
My belly's full of Cracker Barrel beef stew. It's both a good and bad feeling at once...

I retract my previous comment about Russian judges. Let me now add this: Fucking French figure skating judges.

February 14, 2002 (10:47 a.m. CST)
It's Valentine's Day (does anybody call it St. Valentine's Day anymore? Will St. Patrick's Day become just Patrick's Day? I digress...) again, and strange things are afoot on the UTA campus. I saw a string of inflated pink condoms decorating a table and a trailer unloading llamas. Sweet Jesus.

Sweet, sweet Jesus.

February 13, 2002 (1:35 p.m. CST)
I just noticed how "Blog. Blog." looks like "bling-bling." (I assume it's hyphenated...) There you go...this is the first blog thought to be decked out in ghetto gold while driving its Escalade to the club.

February 12, 2002 (11:34 p.m. CST)
Fucking Russian figure skating judges.

Since Southwest Bell and my apartment complex can't seem to get their shit together about getting me hooked up with DSL, I'm just going to use the UTA network and a CD-RW for my MP3 needs. I'll let you know how it works...

February 12, 2002 (3:31 p.m. CST)
Things seen on the way to school today...

• A sign reading "Cash for Baby." Judging how the sign was sitting an a yard full of clutter, I can only surmise that the sign's owner was having a yard sale to help finance a new addition to his/her family, rather than auctioning off the fruit of his/her loins.
• A car with a sticker featuring the word 'ARMY' in a black stenciled font over top a rainbow background. I'm not sure if this person is violating Clinton's 'Don't ask; don't tell." policy, or if they just support gays in the military. Beside this sticker was another with 1st Lieutenant's bars, so I'm leaning to the former.
• A car with a Nova Scotia licence plate. It's nice to know that I'm not the only Canadian here, and especially not the one with the longest drive home.

God bless the wackiness of North Texas.

February 5, 2002 (3:04 p.m. CST)
Yes, I have neglected the page for a couple of weeks. Yes, my last blog entry was a Tragically Hip lyric. So what? I suck, okay?

I'm also tired. Exhausted, in fact. I plopped my ass down on a couch at school after my Oceanography class and had a nap. I'm sure people thought I was a vagrant. With the state of my hair -- mussy, with that "I wore a hood while napping in public" look -- and my five-day beard growth, I probably look as if I've crawled out of a BFI bin. I just smell (slightly) better...

January 23, 2002 (2:41 p.m. CST)
If I die of vanity, promise me, promise me if they bury me someplace I don't want to be, you'll dig me up and transport me unceremoniously away from this swollen city breeze, garbage bag trees, whispers of disease and acts of enormity and lower me slowly and sadly and properly, get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy.

January 22, 2002 (11:45 a.m. CST)
Ugh. I just had pasta from one of those food vendors in University Center. I was better off starving.

January 22, 2002 (9:12 a.m. CST)
It's strange how comforting seeing a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey can be for an expatriate Canadian in Texas. I'm not sure if the guy who is wearing it is a fan, or if he can tell Curtis Joseph from Joey Jo-Jo Shabadoo, but it doesn't matter to me. The odd thing is that I hate the Maple Leafs (and everything else about Toronto, for that matter).

January 21, 2002 (2:33 a.m. CST)
One of the managers at work was laid off. Normally, this wouldn't bother me. In fact, normally I wouldn't care. This time, however, I do. It turns out that the manager in question was a micro-managing, sweater vest-wearing cunt, who had pissed me off on more than one occasion. Goodbye, cunt. Have fun in your new career as a middle-aged, unemployed call center manager.

I'm watching The Fly on HBO right now...Jeff Goldblum's ear just fell off. Sexy.

Happy MLK Day.

January 15, 2002 (10:05 p.m. CST)
The doctor said that Fungushead may have broken her foot. Ugh.

I forgot to send a "fuck you" out to the Unter-UTA Parking Gestapo. Oh no, I drove through. That'll seal my fate come Ragnarok time. "Sorry mates, can't join you in Valhalla... I got that parking ticket last January."

January 15, 2002 (5:11 p.m. CST)
A few notes about my real first day of classes...

My U.S. Government prof refused to pass out syllabi (I love that word) today, stating he'd prefer to wait a week or two, in case some of us elected to drop out. Interesting concept. I also bought the textbook for that course, only to discover that each of the 12-or-so sections to the course has its own textbook. Thankfully, mine seems to be as common as shit on a pig farm, so I was able to find a used copy relatively easily.

My Intro Chem course is a joke. I'd rather shoot myself in the groin than sit through it for the full semester, but self-inflicted gunshot wounds will get me a psych evaluation, not a degree. Fuck.

Thankfully, the prof I have for my Oceanography and Carbonate Petrology classes seems to be decent. He's animated, and likes the word "syllabi," too. Good enough by my books.

Maybe this is a UTA thing, but all of my courses have three or four term tests and a final exam in lieu of the midterm-final-assignment-term paper format I'm used to. It's not that I'm arguing, but it'll take a bit of adjustment...

Finally, here's a big "fuck you" to the guy who almost hit me on Abrams St. today. Pay attention to me before nosing your piece of crap boat into the intersection.

January 14, 2002 (11:27 a.m. CST)
My English prof didn't show for class. Bitter rant to follow.

January 14, 2002 (3:09 a.m. CDT)
Goddamn Kinkos. I went to the local Kinkos to photocopy some transparencies for the wife, but the outlet was closed. On the door, there was a sign stating that, as of mid-December, the store would close at midnight and reopen at 6 a.m. Fuck. The bloody canopy still reads "24 hours," too.

So off I went to Irving to do my photocopying.

January 14, 2002 (12:30 a.m. CDT)
School starts today. The only class I have today is my crappy Expositional Writing class. Something tells me that I won't get terribly much out of this class.

It's also Karen's birthday tomorrow. She doesn't know that I'm planning to surprise her at work with a cake. We'll see how it goes over :)

January 13, 2002 (4:27 a.m. CST)
My dog just had another seizure, poor thing. At least she didn't piss herself.

Caramelhead and I saw Orange County this afternoon. It was an amusing movie -- not anything I'd want to pay a full seven dollars to see, but worth the matinee fare. A few things struck me as odd about the movie...
-- Some radio spots were devoted entirely to Jack Black's role in the movie. Yes, Tenacious D is the new favorite band of teenaged boys (the Bloodhound Gang for 2002), but he's hardly carried the movies he's been in. Shallow Hal bombed, Saving Silverman hardly registered and High Fidelity barely used him.
-- Three teenaged girls sitting a few rows in front of me were very annoying. Shut the fuck up, you training bra cunts. I saw the trailer too, but you don't hear me shouting out the lines. I don't see Tim Curry on the screen and I'm not wearing lingerie. That means use your "inside voice" for the audience participation.
-- I wonder if Schuyler Fisk has done any porno. She's Sissy Spacek's daughter (which explains the hair), so it's very doubtful...

January 12, 2002 (6:40 p.m. CST)
By mistake, I ordered pizza from Pizza Inn instead of Pizza Hut. Pizza Inn happened to be immediately after Pizza Hut in the Yellow Pages. We got a lukewarm, round slab of shit (in the proverbial sense, of course). Never, ever order from this place if you live in the DFW Metroplex.

January 12, 2002 (3:26 a.m. CST)
Heh. My wife bought me a pair of tacky orange boxer shorts and a white t-shirt for out anniversary. The boxer shorts aren't plaid...they're a candy corn print, which makes them even better. Now I just have to find a way to show them off to people...

January 10, 2002 (6:51 p.m. CDT)
My wife's ankle looks like an abstract painting of Prince's closet, circa 1987. She's doing her best to convince herself that her ankle is fractured, even though the x-rays came back negative.

On a different note, let me add that MW4 rocks my universe. I'm almost able to compete in online games, even while connected to the Internet on an old 28.8 kbps modem. I bought the modem third-hand two years ago, and the thing still is plugging away. The thing must be older than half of Sierra Leone by now. (Yes, that is a tasteless joke, but disturbingly accurate. If you are unfamiliar with the geopolitical situation in sub- Saharan Africa, then disregard the last three sentences.)

January 10, 2002 (5:55 a.m. CST)
The wife and I are celebrating the fourth anniversary of our first meeting. Yes, four years ago today, I stumbled out of my room half-awake, wearing nothing but a sweaty t-shirt and orange plaid boxer shorts, only to meet the woman I'd marry. So, what does Fungushead do to prepare herself for our anniversary? She falls off a big horse and sprains her ankle. Fuck.

January 8, 2002 (10:33 a.m. CST)
I spent half an hour talking to the Financial Aid people at my university this morning. Like most immigrants, I'm learning a new language. But unlike most immigrants to the U.S., my English is fine; I'm being forced to learn "studentloanese." The grammar is simple enough, but the vocabulary befuddles me at times: Stafford subsidized, Stafford non-subsidized, EFC, the dreaded question 35...

January 8, 2002 (3:38 a.m. CST)
I spoke too soon...there they go again.

January 8, 2002 (3:08 a.m. CST)
My shitty downstairs neighbors just finished their band practice. Yes, that time is correct. You'd think that two complaints to the cops would be enough, but there's no accounting for the ignorance of some of the walnut-brained fucks that share this world (and apartment complex) with us normal folk.

January 6, 2002 (3:58 a.m. CST)
I just saw a commercial for one of those "electrocute-your-face-in-infinitesimal- amounts-so-you-don't-look-haggard" devices. I wonder if the actors who get hired to have these instruments clipped to their facial muscles bother to check how ridiculous they look prior to cashing their cheques. I thought that facial ticks were signs of neurological conditions, but now I realize that they're simply cheap alternatives to plastic surgery.

January 5, 2002 (1:29 p.m. CST)
My wife gave me a pair of socks, Rockford Red Heels to be exact, for Christmas. I'm wearing them now; they're very comfy.

January 5, 2002 (2:10 a.m. CST)
Two days ago, I turned my car radio to what I thought was 93.3 Merge FM, but it wasn't. Without warning, the station had changed formats, and had assumed its new guise, 93.3 FM The Bone. "Classic Texas rock that rocks!" Ugh. "The Bone?" Who was the Ph.D. that dedicated his thesis to that gem?

I really liked Merge. I was starting to love Merge. They featured E-Merge-ing artists. On Sunday nights, they broadcast Submerge, a program that features alternative, electronic and underground music. Where else will you hear bands like FC Kahuna and The Avalanches on Dallas-Ft. Worth radio? Fuck.

January 4, 2002 (2:20 a.m. CST)
Here's the page. I'm watching a documentary on the life (and death?) of Jimmy Hoffa. I'm sitting here naked, scratching my nutsack.