February 3, 2004 (5:25 a.m. CST)
My eye socket is aching from a doggie headbutt, so I'll keep it terse with some good ol' fashioned E/N buggery.

I created profiles for our two dogs on Dogster, which happens to be the all-too-inevitable Friendster for canines. It's a crisp little site that seems to have popped up last month. A recent listing on Yahoo!Picks has boosted its profile, so it should grow quickly. Either way, here's the profiles for Cassie and Gretchen.

My thoughts on Super Bowl 38 (time to dispense with the Roman numerals, so sayeth the world)... I knew the Panthers would cover, even being so bold as to predict a one-point win on E2 courtesy of a blocked PAT from Julius Peppers (silly me, Peppers doesn't play special teams against field goals). I wanted to pick Carolina in a double-or-nothing bet with my co-manager Luu (who took the Eagles in the Conference Championship). Alas, we both wanted Carolina and we both wanted to take the "over". I took my 12-pack of Pepsi for winning two weeks ago and ran. As for the commercials, they were lacklustre (save for the NFL's "Tomorrow" and the Homer Simpson "Priceless" Mastercard spot). And the halftime show? Gads! Kid Rock trotting out 'Bawitdaba'? Diddy doing "I'm Coming Out". I didn't realize this was fucking 2001, gents. (Nor did I realize that the "surprise guest" wasn't m'man JT, but Janet Jackson's pierced nipple. The real halftime entertainment came courtesy of the naked Liverpudlian Mark Roberts and his "Super Bowel." Good one, mate.

I've been playing quite a bit of BF1942 and Galactic Civilizations recently. That, and administering E2's Athletes and Sports Figures Quest.

Lastly, some search engine referrals. Once I weed out the scores of people looking for pics of Janet's breast, I was left with these two...
dirty trollops -- Doesn't the word trollop infer a certain degree of dirtiness?. I'd think so... (10th, Yahoo!Australia & NZ)
battlebot dandelion -- There's two words that don't often go together in a sentence. (3rd, Google)

January 30, 2004 (1:10 a.m. CST)
Two nights ago, I went on a reading binge. I'm a bulimic reader: I'll devour a book or two in a few days (my "bingeing"), which is followed by several weeks or months when the heaviest non-work or -school material I'll tackle is Entertainment Weekly. Obviously, this strategy has the advantage of leaping a large amount of text in a single bound, but there is the whole burn-out downside. What it comes to is that if a book inspires me, then I'll keep reading. Trop facile.

Over her Christmas trip, Fungushead acquired a copy of the recent bestseller The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Religiously, she read the book over January's first few weeks, finishing it Sunday or Monday, raving about it every step of the way. Finally completing it left it available for yours truly. So I started into it Monday night and read it in one sitting. (Technically, it was TWO sittings, as I moved from the toilet to the easy chair midway, but I never stopped reading.)

I wish I could tell you what it was that has kept this book at the top of the fiction bestsellers list almost a year after its release... but I can't. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Brown rotated his chapters through two and even three convergent storylines and he wrapped up all the loose ties. (Perhaps a little too tightly at the end. I hate authors who feel the need to bring every little issue to a happy, end credits finalization.) The biggest problem, though, lay at the heart of the novel's premise: the codes. As the story progressed, the codes became more and more evident to the reader, but seemingly more complex to the characters. At times, I wanted to jump through the pages and throttle the sleep-deprived protagonists screaming the answers at them.

Nonetheless, Code was good enough to keep my interest for eight or nine hours.

January 31, 2004 (7:02 p.m. CST)
I'm badass.

Last night, after a semi-miserable night at work, I came home to find the parking lot mostly full. After giving the spots around my building a brief drive-by, I pulled over to the section of the lot I affectionately call "the crackwhore parking." (So named because anyone who pulled into the complex for crackwhore sex would want to park as far away as possible from their apartment. Theoretically.) The crackwhore parking area has two distinct sections: a line of spots across from several rented garages separated by two additional lines (set up in an "L" shape) by the hairpin turn beside the trash compactor. Sounds classy, eh? Some MENSA member decided that this hairpin turn would be a perfect spot to park his shitty Pontiac Bonneville, damn near blocking me out of the L-Wing of Crackwhore Lot (and damn near blocking L-Wing cars in). Frustrated by this, I found an even more distant spot and parked there.

Not wanting to let the matter lie, I picked up a pencil and scrawled the following note:

Hey idiot:
This is a driveway, not a parking spot.

I feared that slapping the note underneath his windshield wiper may not be obvious enough. I wanted my complain noted, goddammit! Lacking any tape and the werewithal of patience to retrieve some from the apartment, I had to improvise. I looked at the cars parked in I-Wing of Crackwhore Lot as I strode to the Bonneville and noticed that their windows were frosted over. It must be below freezing! I felt much relief and vindication spitting a spatter of gob on the driver's side window, then sticking my note onto it. Frozen spit... nature's winter adhesive.

January 30, 2004 (3:01 a.m. CST)
Some more search engine referrals...
filthy fuck chatting -- This describes every conversation I've ever had. (4th, Google.ca)
"Kay Hutchison" violent video game -- I can see it now: Rockstar's "Senator Sanitarium", where your favorite legislators fight in brutal death matches in order to push their political agendae! "Tony, I just unlocked West Virginia 2nd District Rep. Shelley Moore Capito! She's got the Double TWisting Tax Cutting Superplex!" (4th, Google)
debra messing measurements -- I don't know what they are, but the standard deviation can't be terribly huge. Pre-pregnancy, that it. (49th, AOL)

January 21, 2004 (2:33 a.m. CST)
Here's a quick shot of some recent referrals...
autographed radiohead album with certificate of authenticity -- "Hey Thom Yorke! Thanks for signing my album, but would you mind quickly posing for a picture so I can dish it off on Ebay more quickly? Gee, thanks bud!" (12th, Yahoo!)
shagging "charlotte church" -- What's scary is the number of porn sites that namedrop Church in order to drive up traffic. (40th, Google)
gael garcia bernal natalie portman -- You may remember Bernal from Y tu mamá también. And you may remember Portman for those VMA promos that ran two years ago. (169th, Yahoo)

January 15, 2004 (6:12 a.m. CST)
Okay, I'm back. I felt guilty about the last entry, so I've decided to throw some real content your way.

Things have been a bit sporadic over at E2 the last few months. Their Web servers were moved to a new location in mid-November, causing a three-week outage (whose effects still hasn't been fully rectified). And two nights ago, the Web server's network card went on the fritz, knocking out the site yet again. But yesterday evening, E2 arose again.

One of those lasting side effects I mentioned was Everything2's Google page ranking. Up until a few weeks ago, many E2 pages were ranked highly by the fine folks at Google. This allowed me to use the search engine as a spell checker, enabling me to proofread whole regions of the nodegel at once. But when I returned to this tried-and-tested method two days ago, I found it... neutered. Typos that were found in abundance a few months ago had been lost, meaning that Google had dropped the pages from its index. (More on the problem in my daylog entry.) To fix this problem, I'm going to be linking to three E2 nodes every blog entry. I know Google crawls my site regularly (last visit: 12/30), so linking E2 nodes should begin the process of reindexing. Here goes...

Highlighted Everything2 nodes:

• Debabelizer
• That's Serendipity
• Dale Hawerchuk

January 15, 2004 (5:11 a.m. CST)
I could write about the apartment fire in my building that set off the klaxons two hours ago. I could write about Caramelhead's birthday cake. I could even give my appraisal of The Bachelorette, but I won't. I'm going to cheat you with search engine referrals!
zip up palestinian sweaters -- Shh! DOn't tell the Israelis! (11th, Yahoo!)
granddaddy penis and vulva -- Either dem's is some big genitalia, or Gramps has some gender issues. (5th, Yahoo! )
chocolate manufacturers in Goodlettsville TA. -- Ah, the state of T'n'A! Where all the candies come in erotic shapes! (9th, Yahoo!)
habanero "vagina" chili -- "I'm going to rub some capsicum oil on your labia and your clitoris. I hope you don't mind." (10th, Google)
mansion lanka seahorse -- Suuuure... (4th, Google.nl)

January 12, 2004 (5:07 a.m. CST)
For lack of anything inspiring to write, here's some celebrity fiction...

"Put the pitching wedge down, Charlie!" she cried. "Don't be such dicks, you guys!"

The brothers looked at the buxom beauty, then laid their golf clubs down. Besides, Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez had better things to do than chase down and bludgeon some rabbit in the corner of their garden. The interviewer from Playboy was due in an hour, and Charlie hadn't showered yet. His shirt clung to him like an overmoist towelette and sweat ran off his chin in a near-stream. Running after jackrabbits was not the work for a man pushing forty.

"Dude," shouted Emilio. "You pissed yourself!"

And indeed he had.

January 12, 2004 (3:53 a.m. CST)
As my "fast track to store manager" seems to have stalled, Fungushead's back to pressuring me to find a better job. Not that I blame her for it ; I'm hardly pulling in huge stacks of cash at the gas station. In fact, I have a few leads that look promising thusfar. A Braum's general manager happens to one of my store's early morning regulars, and she happened to mention that they're looking for a few assistant managers when she stopped in two mornings ago. Also, Home Depot's opening up a store a few blocks away. The fact that I have a reference from an area supervisor should hold me in good stead. Again, cross your fingers for me.

The Home Depot manager I mentioned is the husband of a friend of mine from my days at JCPenney. The four of us (those two, me and Caramelhead) went to a Sake Japanese steakhouse in Arlington this weekend. Despite the bad (but wholly accurate, even 19 months later) review, we had a great time. The chefs hardly seemed bored, and the food was decent. And cheap. Cheap is good when you're a struggling couple.

January 12, 2004 (2:17 a.m. CST)
Oy. I'm trying to bring the site into compliance with XHTML 1.0 standards, which I'm realizing is going to be somewhat of a pain in the tuckus. This means that the pages on this site are in one of four stages of (re-development): two pages have been completely redone (last spring's redesign, updated copyright notices, XHTML compliance), thirty-five are almost done (redesign and copyright done), sixteen of the Toban pages have the redesign alone done and six Toban pages have yet to be touched. As if that wasn't enough, all of the Toban pages need to have the imagemap code redone.

The plan is to take care of the nasty six Toban pages (redesign, copyright and imagemap stuff), then tackle the remainder of the Toban pages (copyright and imagemaps). Then the last 35 noncompliant pages. After that, I'll be ready to implement some CSS and get these ugly-assed images fixed up.

Oy indeed.

January 11, 2004 (1:55 a.m. CST)
I wanted to quickly comment on Saturday afternoon's Panthers/Rams doublt overtime tilt. All of the columns I've read on the game have been stretching Rams QB Marc Bulger out on the rack. While he did throw three interceptions, he also was 27-46 with 316 yards passing. He had Torry Holt drop a surefire touchdown pass (which would've tacked on another 50+ yards) on one of the few deep routes that Mike Martz called. Most importantly, the final interception -- the one that killed the Rams' final drive in the game -- wasn't Bulger's fault. Watch the tape and you'll see rookie corberback Ricky Manning make a one-handed grab at his body's full extension and wrestle the ball away from, you guessed it... Holt while falling to the ground. Look where Bulger threw the ball... to Holt's outside shoulder and away from Manning. Manning had to change direction to match Holt's stop route, then leap across Holt's body to make the play. Bulger's only fault there was not putting the football six inches higher, otherwise it was a perfectly thrown ball.

January 10, 2004 (4:57 p.m. CST)
No real blog entry tonight, just more referrals:
Reese Witherspoon's breasts Twilight -- Witherspoon did this little film before making her name with Pleasantville and Cruel Intentions, so boobage is a possibility. (5th, Google)
ching a ring chaw explanation -- We sang this Negro spiritual in provincial honours choir in 1993, but I still don't know what it's about. (3rd, Yahoo!)
Combat "vic morrow" midi -- I haven't seen an episode of Combat! in years, but I still have the lively march of a theme song memorized. (17th, Yahoo!)
mckibbin karaoke arlington pool -- Go see Nikki host karaoke night! (Where she's probably bothered with such crap as "So, you saw Kelly Clarkson in her underwear, right?" on a nightly basis.) Should've taken the money and did a Penthouse spread, baby. (3rd, Yahoo!)
kodiak spittoon -- Mu assumption is that someone wants to get a spittoon to go with their Kodiak brand chewing tobacco, but I may be wrong. (37th, Google)
queefing -- Toot! (88th, Yahoo!)
Carmen Valdes Enneagram -- Someone must want a personality profile of the famous jeweller. (2nd, Google)
disenthralled anus -- After having the flu last week, I was hardly enthralled with my asshole. (1st, Google)

January 7, 2004 (10:15 a.m. CST)
I just finished my latest w/u for E2: Lopezian nicknames

In an effort to reset my internal clock, I pulled an all-nighter last night. I still have a few errands to run this morning, so I'll be able to spend the time between now and when I leave for work somewhat usefully. During my wakeful night, I was able to do some administrative-type work on the Web page and catch up on the User Friendly strips that I've neglected to read the past few months.

Finally, just to fill this entry out, some search engine referrals:
otorhinolaryngological queer -- Sometimes, when I use big words like that, I forget what they mean. (1st, Google.co.uk)
kellen winslow fucking soldier video -- I'm certain this is in reference to Kellen Winslow, Jr.'s recent post-game locker room tirade and not to video of him nailing some infantryman (or infantrywoman) from behind. (7th, Google)
jizzlicker -- Nice to know that MSN considers me a repository of information on jizzlickers. (4th, MSN)

January 7, 2004 (6:43 a.m. CST)
In a slight departure from my normal blogging tendencies, I'm going to just spew out randomness. Well, not quite random blatherings, just a series of unrelated one-liners. Here goes...

My Web host e-mailed me to tell me that one of my pages has a broken link, not knowing that the image maps on all of the recently-redesigned Toban pages were pointing to the wrong folder... Maybe I should get a job at McDonnell Douglas... I just don't find Kirsten Dunst very pretty... I need to mail the last of my Christmas letters today... If Britney Spears wants to write off marriages as jokes that go too far, then I'd like to kid around with Britney for a day or two in Vegas... I need to change the filter in my aquarium... Single-ply toilet paper should be outlawed... My only resolution this year is to lose 15 pounds... And pay off my credit cards... This isn't sounding very profound, so I think I'll stop.

January 6, 2004 (4:20 a.m. CST)
Permit me to babble for a while. I'm tired, and I know that I need to get to sleep soon, but my mind's still active and restless enough to demand one additional diversion before retiring. Perhaps a bit of scatterbrained E/N blogging will convince it to shut the fuck up.

I've snuck onto Community2 (C2). It's an offshoot of that E2 site I'm always talking about, with some of the same people running and contributing to the site. I'll still write on E2 -- in fact, I banged out half of a new writeup last night. I should finish within the next few days. When it's done, rest assured that I'll link it here.

I'm happy to report that after a few days of being flu-ridden and vomity, my status has been upgraded to gassy. (In fact, I just farted yet again. I should be a riot to work with tomorrow.) More importantly, my appetite has for the most part returned. Yay me, I guess.

This happy fellow seems unaware that he's the result of a not-so-random GIS (Google Image Search). He's a dugong (or, as some say, a duyoung), a type of endangered aquatic mammal that scours the rivers and bays of Australia looking for plants to eat.

That's enough, time to unload the dishwasher.

January 5, 2004 (8:30 p.m. CST)
Once Caramelhead finishes watching The Banger Sisters, I'm going to head off to finish my DVD. Until that happens, I need to waste some time, and to do so I offer some more search engine referrals...
candy striped plecostomus -- Perhaps in some undersea hospital of the future, bedpans will be scrubbed not with elbow grease and steel wool, but with the suckers of catfish. (3rd, Google)
mentos japan commercial rifle -- Doo doo de doo doo doo-wah... BLAM! "Iye!" (3rd, Google)
"john gruden" and jockstrap -- Chucky the Buccaneer in his skivvies? And what's with that haircut? (3rd, Google)
tank fuckers -- Nothing gets me hotter than jamming my schlong into the exhaust pipe of an M1A1 Abrams! (2nd, Google)

December 30, 2003 (2:08 a.m. CST)
A break from my late night cleaning to make an announcement. Keira Knightley, I'm breaking up with you. It became official yesterday, although I've been mulling the idea over for a while. What pulled the trigger on our yet-to-be-realized affair? It might have been some of the outfits you've been wearing to your movies' premieres. It probably, however, was the transcripts of your recent Tonight Show appearance. I always thought you to be a very clever girl, but this assessment is slowly being adjusted to that of a pretty girl who's good with the occasional one-liner, but not much more. Sorry dear, you're hardly the ditsiest chick in the gymnasium, but I'm looking for something a bit deeper. Until then, you've been supplanted by a prettier, richer celebrity crush: Amanda Hearst.

While we're on the topic, another one of my more enduring celebrity crushes has started to fade. Emma Thompson, the elegant British thespian, is losing her place in my heart as well. Since I fell in love with her in Much Ado About Nothing, she's slowly been dumping out. Add into the equation a long sabbatical to give birth to a daughter in 1999, from which she returned with a vengeance this fall... but with a frumpy haircut. I'm sorry dear, I'll always miss Beatrice's flowing tresses.

December 29, 2003 (3:06 a.m. CST)
This was sent to my Hotmail address today (formatting and grammar theirs, not mine):

Hey,

Your website is officially a 'Googlewhack'.

This is when you type in two seperate words into google and come up with only one search result.

The words must be included in the dictionary.

Your Googlewhack words were

"baranduki smell"

these two words were only found on your web page out of the few billion out there. well done!

Jez

Little does Jez know that I try my damnedest to spoil Googlewhacks! I'll find whacks in the Whack Stack and deliberately slip those words into my blog entries. Baranduki was exactly such a word. Often, I have to fly off on tangents in order to fit obscure words into an entry -- I had to create an entry dedicated to "Survivor: Siberia" in order to justify using such a silly word in that one case.

Irony abounds, however, as I wind up creating more whacks than I eliminate in the end. Now "orcadian baranduki" will be a valid whack. And thus the cycle continues...

December 29, 2003 (2:24 a.m. CST)
Ah, in just 32 hours, Caramelhead will be back in my lovin' arms. And she'll be bringing back gifts! PRESENTS!! PRESENTS!!

In the last few weeks, I've submitted a few more entries into various Fark photoshops. Have a look see...

The top two were entries into the Yu-Gi-Oh cards that should never exist and the Photoshop this year's Time Person of the Year candidates threads respectively. The Yu-Gi-Oh card is an homage to goatse.cx (HIGHLY NSFW AND DISTURBING, CLICK AT OWN RISK). And Carney, as American football fans well know, pooched a PAT attempt in Week 16 that killed the New Orleans Saints' chances of a playoff berth and was a tragic letdown after one of the most exciting plays in NFL history.

The third and fourth images were entries in the Photoshop the Fark topic tags running amok on an unsuspecting world thread. The first one ("Tag Recruits") is my best P-shop thusfar, requiring me to create a dozen new Fark topic tags, then paste them into the background. I then had to skew for perspective and add shadows. All told, it came to 25 individual layers in one image. The final image was entered into tonight's Photoshop yourself on a date with a celebrity of your choosing theme contest. It features (L to R) my fraternity brother Mike "Twitch" Hall, hottie/actress Keira Knightley, fraternity brother/best man Terry Brown on french horn, and me on accordion.

December 22, 2003 (12:12 p.m. CST)
I'm tired and suffering from intermittent headaches. I have nothing worthwhile to say, but feel compelled to share three more search engine referrals...
Curettes grassy japan -- Q: How does one make a grassy curette? A: Chia. (2nd, Google)
birthdates of csi cast -- Mmm, sexy Jorja Fox in a party hat. And nothing else. (7th, Yahoo!)
jewish gotterdammerungs -- The violent end of the Israeli state? (1st, Google)

December 18, 2003 (3:38 a.m. CST)
Well, Caramelhead's made it back home. Too bad her luggage hasn't made the trip. Northwest stuck her on a SkyWest flight from DFW to Minneapolis (where she transferred to a NW flight to Fargo Hector). SkyWest is a Delta affiliate, so why Northwest would sell her that ticket is beyond me. Either way, we don't know if her bag is en route to Fargo, stuck at MSP or DFW or gallivanting across the continental 48. What I can tell you, true believers, is that Delta's customer service personnel can suck on my big, meaty cack tonight. (No, not "cock," "CACK." Pronounce it with the angry grimace of someone trying to ask simple questions to night shift call center trolls.)

On another note, staying home lets me do some cool bachelor stuff -- no, not making out in hot tubs with a litany of gorgeous babes, that'd be "The Bachelor" stuff. I get to eat buffalo-style popcorn chicken, go to half-price double features and play oodles of Xbox. I've been Xbox-deprived until now, so this week will be an interesting trial.

December 16, 2003 (5:17 a.m. CST)
I haven't penned any celebrity fiction as of late, so here goes...

The carpet burns stung at Sinéad O'Connor's knees. It'd been twenty minutes and he still hadn't cum yet. Deep inside of her, Sinéad grokked that he liked seeing her wince. He liked poking at the abrasions; if they bled, he'd stop the trickle with his tongue. It was intimate, in a creepy, vampiric way. "Who knew," she thought to herself as he finished himself off inside her, "that Bill Murray was such a fetishist? Who knew that he had such a big dick?" Self-loathing was comfortable to Sinéad, so she liked the thought of hating how much she loved how well he fucked her.

And, just to round out this entry, I'll toss in a few recent search engine referrals:
shania twain fellating a horse -- Once upon a time, my roommate Karl would violate the members of our fraternity by playing an MPEG called "horsegag" for them. You can imagine its contents. And no, it wasn't produced by "Mutt" Lange. (1st, Comcast via Google)
shania twain ancient gaelic fucked twice -- Again with the Shania! And now she's in ancient Ireland getting laid (not once, but TWICE!). While no horses are explicitly mentioned, the imagination doesn't have to leap very far... (1st, Eniro via Google)

December 16, 2003 (2:31 a.m. CST)
Just because I can, here's links to a few random message board posts.

I'm bitter. I won't be going home for Christmas, due to delays in getting my apparent promotion processed. Fuck. Just fricking lovely and special, eh?

December 11, 2003 (6:06 p.m. CST)
I'm sick. I was in a state of relative good health at 11:00 a.m. this morning. Things rapidly changed for the worse in my nose, however, and by 1:30 p.m. my schnoz was gushing forth like a storm sewer after a hurricane's passed through. Once I got home, I took some Theraflu and things have slightly improved since then. It looks like shoe shopping is out of the question tonight, though.

And from the "Links found on Fark" files: I want to go to Courtney Love's rehab clinic, which lets her go clubbing at LA rock caberets. Must be nice...

December 10, 2003 (12:35 p.m. CST)

While at work yesterday, I came across the above artifact from pop culture's periphery. It's the top flap to a box of generic pop tarts that my store carries. Mike, my manager, instead of "eating" the cost of the pop tarts, which were damaged as they were unloaded the previous night, decided to buy the box of "Tasty Tarts" (or perhaps "Tasty 6 Tarts") and literally eat the product. While he was merrily cramming pastry crumbs into his mouth, I caught sight of the box...

Who was the executive who okayed this monstrosity of a corporate mascot? It looks like they wanted a "cool-looking" dog with sunglasses in their original concept. But after the final result came in from the artist, they realized that it too closely resembled another nameless mascot for another generic food company. There wasn't money in the budget for a complete redesign, so they sent a memo to the artist reading something like:

Change his shirt, put stripes on it or something. Make the sunglasses into regular eyeglasses. Throw in a fourth finger on each hand. (That way the Japanese don't think our mascot's in the Yakuza or something!) Oh yeah, move his eyes onto stalks, kinda like an alien.

The fact that having eyes on stalks rendered his glasses useless was probably lost on said executives. Who the hell cares about such trifling matters when there's a deadline to meet.

Finally, what's with the fucking name? Take a look at the most commonly-used definition of twink. So, they've named their rather flamboyant mascot with a word describing a smooth-skinned gay boy/man. Oops. A quick Google search on twinks the nibbler yields five results pointing to porn sites (out of eleven) and none referring the searcher to Purity Foods.

December 9, 2003 (2:58 a.m. CST)
I've been trying to send a message using the Hello World Project, but every time I try to beam my knowledge to the world, the stupid projectors are down. I understand the uselessness of projecting a message with light during the daytime hours, but it's freakin' 4 a.m. in NeW York. I suppose NYC will have to wait a few more days to see "It takes a pretty big duck to kill a bear." written on a skyscraper.

Tomorrow will be exhausting. On top of only getting two hours of sleep, I will have worked two eight-hour shifts in the span of 24 hours. And at the end of the second shift? An interview for a possible promotion! In some twelve hours, I may know if I'm getting a management position at my job. Cross your fingers for me, okay? (All that being said, I need to get some sleep. It's hard to impress your area supervisor when you're drooling on his shoes.)

One last thing: This bill netted me a new Texas county for my Where's George collection. Just some 200 more to go...

December 9, 2003 (1:44 a.m. CST)
I may return for another entry in a few minutes (after I try, once again to write our Christmas letter). Until then, here's another batch of search engine referrals...
quadruplets +belly +photo -- Is this some expecting father of quads wondering what his wife's tummy will look like in six months? Or is this just another freak with yet another odd fetish? (176th, Google)
famous cockups -- I've witnessed a cockup or two in my time, but I have yet to see what could be accurately called a "famous" one. Give me time, though. (63rd, Google)
santa clause smoking cannabis + pic -- The last I heard, Tim Allen preferred to have his drugs administered nasally. Though a sequel with Method Man and Redman was not been ruled out yet... (4th, Google)
PV nrt popcorn refrigerator -- "So, how does the Ideal Gas Law apply to refrigerated snack foods?" How the fuck should I know? (2nd, Google)
Wendie Malick in Dream On masturbation scene -- I haven't seen this scene yet, but I'm sure it's far more riveting than, say, the "Celebrities Uncovered" shots of her waiting for a ride after David Spade's birthday party. (7th, Yahoo!)
Ashton Kutcher's screenname -- I don't know it. If I was him, it'd be something like "NailingTheWifeOfBruceWillis". Hell, I'd be buying billboard space to advertise that fact. (1st, Google)
"birthday card" and slurpee -- "Happy birthday! I hope you like this card and the Slurpee. Oh, I drank the Slurpee." (14th, Google)

December 6, 2003 (1:06 p.m. CST)
A little bit of radio curiosity happened to me yesterday afternoon. While working on yesterday's updates, I had (as always) Winamp working in the background, playing some tunes. More often than not, I'll load my entire collection of approximately 4400 songs as a playlist and gamble with what I get in return. After I finished my last entry, I left the apartment to run some errands and get something to eat. My usual radio station 102.1 The Edge was playing crap (Nickelback and Creed) so I flipped the channel to Mix 102.9. What'd they play? Jon Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" and Bryan Adams/Rod Stewart/Sting's "All For Love," both of which Winamp deigned to play less than an hour earlier. One random late-90s pop-rock song would be a coincidence, but two in the space of an hour is just freaky.

December 5, 2003 (1:45 p.m. CST)
I got mad and removed the paragraph justification. It made my last entry look godawful... that's my job, not HTML's!

It seems that Fungushead didn't like the job I did on this year's Christmas letter. Parts of it passed muster, but the bulk of it needs a rewrite. It'll have to wait until tomorrow, as I work the overnight shift at the store tonight.

I'm hungry. I think I'm going to get me some lunch.