The Meaty Efreeti

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

No posting...sorry. Stupid busy both in the office and out right now. I'll have some time tonight maybe. tappitytappitytappitytappity... j.s.

Monday, March 29, 2004

I'd like to take this time to discuss Houston hockey game attendees if I might? Thank you. Now, while I definitely appreciate the general growth of the sport here, in the most unlikely of cities, there are a few things that I simply have to get off my chest. First and foremost, DO NOT FUCKING GET UP WHILE THE FUCKING PUCK IS IN FUCKING PLAY. This INCLUDES getting up for any and all reasons your little mind can imagine, with the exception of the contraction of a serious bodily injury. How you might contract said injury by simply sitting in your seat I couldn't say, but I suppose it is somehow possible what with the Piltdown People that dwell in Houston, so it is for you that I qualify. I suppose if you're perhaps going to vomit it's kosher to bail while the puck is in play too...but you're probably better off just spewing into a popcorn box or something since it's doubtful that you'll make it to the bathroom in time anyway. It should therefore go without saying that the need for beer, nachos, hot dogs, popcorn or any other body fattening agent that will cause you to seep any further out of the protective confines of your seat and into mine is right out as well. Also, going to the bathroom, stepping outside to smoke, purchasing souvenirs, attempting better reception on your cell phone, or even leaving to go home are all unnacceptible excuses for leaving your seat while the game is in progress. Just sit your Snackwell's ass in that little padded chair you paid to be in, and wait for the referee to blow his whistle and stop play, THEN you may get up and do whatever you need to do. And before I am accused of being unnecessarily anal, let me explain something...and I promise to make it so simple that you non-hockey people should be able to grok it with little difficulty. Hockey is played on ice. Hockey is played by people who are on ice skates, and who are typically very good at ice skating. Hockey is therefore a very fast-paced sport, as people who are good at ice skating often move quickly while on the ice. (Still with me Little Miss Austrilopithicus? Good) So, if you stand up and start your clumsy, lumbering, one-two shuffle-step in an attempt to get by me while the hockey players are playing, I cannot see this very fast-paced sport, because you move slower than people who are on ice skates. (Okay, that's a difficult one, I know. It involves thinking outside of your own immediate microcosm of locomotion. It's okay if you go back and re-read it if you didn't catch it the first time. It's an important cognitive step.) Therefore, if you are in front of me, and something important happens in the game, (i.e. they put that little black, round thing into the net behind that guy with all the pads) I will be unable to see it. And if this happens, I am going to kill you. No I am not exaggerating, not being hyperbolic. I am going to extinguish your life. I am going to shuffle you off the mortal coil. You will cease to be. An ex-rube. Are we absolutely clear? Now look simpleton, I'm not entirely caustic and uncaring. I know you have absolutely NO clue what's going on in front of you, and I sympathize, I really do. Everyone has to start somewhere and I honestly appreciate you coming out and supporting your local farm team. It's not that difficult a game to grasp and I'd be more than happy to explain any parts you don't understand. (That is, as long as you ask me during times when the puck is not in play.) So, it is for those confused masses, that I hereby give this, my word and promise; the game WILL eventually stop...and a quick break will ensue. And it is at this point that you may, quickly and apologetically, jump out of your seat and hurry up the steps. I'll even gladly crunch myself into 6 feet of fetal positioning in an attempt to get out of your way as you go by...that's how much I appreciate the fact that you're at least making an attempt to not be an asshat. It's just not that difficult. Please. Let's work on this, okay? Thank you. Oh...and by the way...you insolent nickel-an-hour whores that stood up and did "The Dance of the Beer-Sloshing Boozy Slut" for what amounted to nearly the entire game, all the while hoping to God that the cameraman would stop focusing on this strange alien game, and instead film the glory of You and your bizarre, arrhythmic convulsing thrusts...just so people might see how "hot" it is when you and your friend frottage your distended, beer-soaked, harpoon-scarred pubises together? Never, ever, EVER come to a hockey game again. You ruined the seats of nearly 40 people behind you, all of whom paid just as much as you did to come to that game. And you then had the unabashed nerve to look surprised and hurt when they finally did put a camera on you, and our entire section booed you mercilessly. Did you feel that? Did you feel the hate? Good. Don't ever fucking come back. Kisses, j.s. *Tune in next week when Jeremiah discusses the propensity of Houstonians to become enraged when an Astros pitcher has the gall to intentionally* walk a batter.**

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Hi. I've just sat here staring at that "Hi" for almost 10 minutes now. I'm a little frosted at the moment, you'll all have to bear with me...it's been an off day. It's quarter after three on Friday night/Saturday morning, and it seems I'm completely incapable of sleep until I get some of this out of my head I hope this helps. First, to the person I spent the majority of the afternoon talking to today, you know who you are, you are an amazing, brilliant, kind and warm person (despite trying to be "hard" most of the time), and I know unequivocally that everything is going to work out with you and yours. And, on the off chance that someone really were to be so foolish as to not see those things in you, and do whatever it took to help make your life everything you want it to be, then they would have my strongest condolences, and my pity. I still think that a little patience, (which I also happen to know has never been your strong suit,) and the wherewithal to allow a few cubic tons of water to flow under the proverbial bridge, and things will turn for the better. No matter the outcome though, know that I'm here for you whenever, and for whatever, you might need. You've only to dial my number. Secondly, Jenny. I got a call this afternoon from Jenny who has been admitted to a hospital in Denver. It seems her tummy, and its subsequent piping/pumping support cast, are giving her some serious issues. The doctors aren't sure yet what the problem is, and hence I've been worried sick about her all evening. Honestly it's taken everything I have not to go screeching off to Denver just to sit next to her, make her laugh, read "Stardust" out loud, and of course watch the requisite horrible daytime television that is a staple of any prolonged hospital stay. Her family is there now though, which makes me feel much better, and pending the results of her tests tomorrow, I may be there as well. We'll see. Those of you who are of a religious bent, please keep her in your prayers these next couple of days. And for those that aren't, if you could send some positive thoughts up toward Colorado I'm sure she'd appreciate it. I know I would. Thanks. And now, to Jersey Girl. I'm having a hard time giving it a rating, and an even harder time ranking it among Kevin's other films, since it was so very different from any of them. (If I had to compare it to one of them I'd say Chasing Amy with much better camera work.) I liked it though. I liked it a lot. I think that Ben Affleck showed real talent in it (though he did slide over the top on a few occasions), J.Lo's "1,001 Faces of Pout" acting method was thankfully absent for the majority of the picture, and the little girl who played Gertrude was well cast for her cute precociousness. (That kid deserves a lot of credit. Linda Fiorentino could barely make Kev's dialogue sound believable, and this munchkin pulled it off with believability and verve.) I do question the choice of Carlin as the grandfather in the movie, but I see where they wanted to go with him. It's just that a softer side of George Carlin was hard for me, personally, to swallow. Overall, it was emotional, so if you go see it be prepared for such, to the point of saccharine in some places... And there parts of the storyline that I had seen before. (A recent Hugh Grant adaptation of a Nick Hornby book sprung to mind at one point.) But the dialogue was beautifully heartfelt, as befitting Mr. Smith, and it showed how far his maturity as a man, and as a father, has come since the days of "How many dicks have you sucked?!?" and "Snoochie Boochies." Well done Kevin, I tip my hat. Well done. Okay, I think that should about cover it...and it's almost 4 now and I've my typical breakfast thing to do tomorrow morning. I'll tote my laptop along with me and post this from a Starbucks or something after I leave. Goodnight everyone. Please take care of yourselves. I would miss you if you weren't around. j.s.

Thursday, March 25, 2004

So, rumor 'round the campfire is that the Meaty is lookin' kinda tired. (And that the last format change was un poco feo.) So, I thought I'd ask the general populace that haunts my little corner of the world whether you agree or disagree, and therefore whether I should be out hunting for/writing up a new template. I know what I want it to look like...and there is a lot of grey and red involved, but I lack the programs (and programming knowledge), to make it look like I want. I've gone through several new template previews and...Jesus...I have to stop for a second. There's a girl at the table across from me that is confronting her (ex?)boyfriend about giving her an STD. (Which one exactly I'm not sure...but she's very serious about it.) The amazing part is how calm and matter-of-fact she's being about it, while the guy keeps fending her off by saying that someone else duped him into sex, and gave it to him, so it's not his fault. (Herpes I think, she's asking if it can be "killed.") My God...the potential for life to go so horribly wrong can be terrifying sometimes. I think about all the life-altering narrow misses and off-chance escapes that I've miraculously pulled off somehow...and I wonder who or what has helped me along so far...because, and it's difficult for me to admit this, it sho' wasn't just little ol' me. I'm not that egotistical. I mean, the silly amount of random unprotected sex...homelessness...times when I've drove when I really shouldn't have...ex-es I'm so much better off without...the ridiculously dangerous places I've put my body...the elephantine amount of illegal drugs I've ingested in my life... It must take a whole cadre of seraphim, watching over me in shifts, to keep me from accidentally ruining my life or irreparably damaging myself/someone else... Those are the thoughts that turn me inside out with "whys?" I'm not a very "good" person really. I have done, and currently do, some things that I'm really not proud of. And some that have been downright awful. (I won't go into the suburban grocery list of suck that I have been and can be, but it's rough. Trust me...I live in here.) And yet kismet, for reasons unbeknownst to me, thinks I'm worthy of keeping around. Don't get me wrong...I happen to think I'm awesome, and anyone else on Earth would have a Sisyphean task in trying to make me think otherwise. But I also recognize that my version of "awesome" probably differs ever-so-slightly from that of moralists, destiny writers, and deities. Although maybe not. Okay, I'm rambling now, and probably not making much sense...the violent energy, which is still crackling like ball lightning at the table across from me, must be skewing my head a little. A lot if you consider that I originally started posting just to ask whether or not I should change the colors around here a bit. Eek... They just left... And have been replaced by a cute, but very, very thin, girl in denim and a ponytail. (denim jeans, denim shirt, denim bag...) =] And there you go...0 to arrogant satyr in just three carriage returns. I should stop now. j.s.



I think I'd run from a bathroom in terror if the urinals looked like this. Although the "hammock bath" looks kinda nice... j.s.

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

Hi kids. Taking a break from writing for a bit and thought I'd say hello. The story is going...I'm at 8 pages now. I might have an idea though, and it's kind of scary. Meaning I've never written a "real" love story before. (One that didn't involve mermaid porn at some point that is.) Speaking of love, I'm infatuated with using this laptop at the coffee shop. So, so much more entertaining than writing at home. (Which I do as well.) I'm a supah-geek though. I sit outside on the patio, writing in Word and sipping a coffee w/ soy milk, all while listening to my mp3 player on headphones and watching for my phone to start vibrating around on the table so I don't miss a call. "And just how can he write with such distractions?" I don't know. But it seems to be working for the time being. Though I'm tired of the disgustingly cute couple across from me...him with a long curly pony tail, she with a freshly picked flower in her slightly disheveled hair, leaning toward one another with their hands on each other's legs and pecking one another on the lips as if the act added a period to the end of each sentence. retch Right...going home then before it rains. (Top's still down.) Talk to you tomorrow. j.s.



So last night Zhe Voolburglah and I picked up a Brother's pie then headed back to my place to catch up with Luis and watch a movie...a movie we thought would be 21 Grams, but instead turned out to be "Under the Tuscan Sun" in "21 Grams" clothing. (Wrong DVD in the Blockbuster box.) So we watched Terry Pratchett's "Soul Music" instead, and just lounged around. I didn't get much written last night either...maybe a paragraph or two...the words were coming really slowly for some reason. And of course, now all I want to do is pick back up where I left off and get the characters up and moving around again...but instead I will be in the office for the next 7 1/2 hours. Maybe I'll try to write a bit tonight at Brasil or something. That might be good. And this Friday...well, there's very little doubt about what I'll be doing on Friday. Those in the Greater Houston Metropolitan area are welcome to come along if they wanna...=] Talk later, j.s.

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

So...you know who owns the URL www.tweetlebeetle.com? Me. And I've no idea what I'm going to do with it...but it seemed like a good purchase at the time. j.s.



Hi there fancy pants. I'm looking outside with increased concern as the beautiful blue-skyed morning begins to fade into a grey, pre-rain afternoon. I don't have any windows on my Jeep. Eek. Although the Jeep finally presented herself with a name yesterday. drumroll She is..."Ms. Charlotte." Named after the red-headed and sin-bodied young woman that used to watch over my day care class when I was much, much younger. She's the only day care teacher who would take a gaggle of pre-pubescent, miscreant children to a public pool, and wear a leopard print thong doing so. I think that deserves, at the very least, an automobile named in her honor, don't you? Right. So I sat down to write a little last night at around 10:00, not having any idea what I was going to write about, and ended up typing like a madman until well after midnight. I've no idea if any of it is worth a damn, but at least I'm writing and that's a good thing in my little world. It seems to be semi-autobiographical, although a bit frappe'd in the chronological sense. And the lead, Devon, is unsettlingly like me in many of his mannerisms...but I let the reader see "the man behind the curtain" a bit, and hear what's going on in his/my head when he/I perform things that people see as simply coming out naturally. And, there's a lot of dialogue so far, which I typically avoid like homeless people wearing shoes on their head, but I think it came out generally okay and even marginally clever this time. I blame the blog. Writing the weird stuff that I spout off at any given moment on here has helped me to get a little more comfortable with writing speech I guess. Anyway, I have no idea where the story or the characters are going...they're just sitting in a basement bar in Salt Lake City on a Saturday afternoon and drinking Gin and tonics at the moment...which is where I left them... Hopefully they start moving around on their own a bit more and doing some interesting things...we'll see. Talk to you later, j.s.

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Yay...coffee shop postin's! This is exactly what I needed. Although I really think it'd be better outside....hang on. Ahhh... So I'm over here at the patio at Diedrich, sipping cawfee and making the straights nervous with my glowing alien-eyed lapma-chine. There have been more double-takes than a Robert Downey Jr. movie. giggles like an idiot It's the little things that get me...=] Okay, last night. Went to see Stars. Was awesome. There was a mighty line outside and rumors abounded about them selling out the show via online tickets, but I still got in. I did a bad thing though...and I may have some karmic retribution coming my way... There was a girl behind me in line who was a bit homely, and when the rumors started flying about only people with pre-bought tickets getting in, she started up a conversation with some people behind her...and they say they have two extra tickets to sell her if she wanted. To this, she happily agreed. I stood with my back for her for a moment...wondering if I was really about to do what I thought I was about to do...did a quick pre-apology to the cosmos, turned on the sparkle, and whirled around to face her. "Hi." "Gurk!" "Are you okay?" "Niack...er...YES. HI." (Her pitch and decibel nervously ululated constantly, and I kept thinking "breathe girl...breathe...it's okay...breathe.") "I'd buy one of those tickets too, if you had another one." I smile. "Guhhhh...." I widen my eyes a little. "Er...nuhhh....well....I THINK MY...uh....friend is coming..." --Switch mode from "cute" to "crestfallen."-- "Oh. Well that's okay...thanks anyway." I smile weakly and turn back around. Seconds later she's on her cell phone to the "friend" who promises that they are on their way and will be there in 5 minutes. She doesn't sound thrilled by that prospect anymore. My lips peel back into a bastard's grin, then I remember what I've just done, look up, and start karmically apologizing to the sky again. So, after hanging up with the friend, she stands quietly for a moment...then turns back around and stars badgering the people who had the 2 extra tickets for one more. No good. So she asks the people behind them...and then the people behind them... I pretend not to notice until she taps me on the shoulder. "Uh, I can't find ANOTHER TICKET...but you shouldn't leave." "Oh, I hadn't planned on it, I'll at least give the door a shot." "Oh...GUH-guh-good." "Thank you though...that was very sweet." blink blink "erglahhh..." I smile once more at her then turn back around. Shortly after, the line started moving and I made it in...her "friend," a portly guy with an awful scowl and worse skin, made it to the line just before she got to the door. Rationalization Time So...since I didn't actually get a ticket from her...and therefore didn't really abuse any perceived power I might've had over the situation, I shouldn't worry about karma coming back from that right? Right? Sigh. You're right. Damn. Okay, Stars were sillier and happier than I'd imagined they'd be when I heard their CD. Their lead singer, Torq, was an adorable little guy that bounced around stage constantly with a tambourine, and harangued The Bushie for being an idiot and SXSW for being "corporate." And Amy...the guitarist/vocalist. Very cute girl... She had the "Jeremiah look" down pat. Dark hair, dark eyes, slightly forlorn, and kinda goofy...and with a quiet inner desire to be happy...something she'd never voice for fear of sounding sappy. Anyway, it was good. And they did "Elevator Love Letter," and "Look Up," so I left thrilled. I took off after they finished their all-too-short set, and started driving down Westheimer, devoid of any particular goal...but with a generally happy fuzz around me. I glanced at my phone and saw that Zhe VoolBurglah had texted me, so I gave him a ring back. We caught up over at Sam's Pub for a couple of beers, and leered inconspicuously at a troupe of cute girls that were doing the girls night out thing. ("You guys are totally opening my eyes right now...") The best looking one of the group seemed happy enough for awhile, then got a phone call that she took by herself in a booth. The smile began to fade...until she finally hung up, threw the phone back in her purse, and stood up, straightening her shirt with what looked like no small amount of irritation. The requisite collective bathroom trip ensued, and then she left. So sad...we men can be such buzzkills sometimes. We hung around a bit longer...Nussell flirted with our waitress a bit...then we each headed home. Today I got up and set about coming here to write for you people, and got out to the garden area when I saw a gaggle of women in hotpants, tank tops and curlers standing outside, having their make-up done. I cock my head to the side like a Labrador at an opera, and wander over to find out what's going on. It seems they're filming a music video in the commons area, pool and atrium of my apartment building all day. Nice. The interesting part was, these girls looked almost exactly like the ones I used for my fashion shows in Utah. It's nice to know that geographical differences don't matter much in that venue...and that there are an inexhaustible supply of young, jaded, slightly-worn but empirically attractive girls in the world, willing to flaunt their siliconed bits for a few bucks and free champagne. Gives one a feeling of solidarity... Okay, I think that just about wraps this one up...before I get even more offensive. I'm going to fiddle about with this thing a bit more, check my email, and then probably head out to Katy to kick it with Dad for a bit. This has been awesome btw...I can see myself doing the coffee/postin' thing a lot. =] Take care, j.s.



Okay, no coffee shop Internet access today. (I never made it over there.) But I'll do the next best thing, and write a bit at home and then post it tomorrow when/if I make it to Diedrich's. (Perhaps I'll even "post to the past" so no one is the wiser to my shenanigans.) Went over to J.T. and Kristin's place last night for a few beers and conversation, and caught up with Ish and Rene. It was...erm...good. But I shant go into the details of it here. (These web walls have ears, and the embarrassment probability is high.) I can say that at one point I was doing a witch doctor dance around the center of their living room, brandishing an imaginary spear, and pretending to be "King of the Crawdad People"...all the while yelling "OOOGA CHAKA, OOOGA OOOGA OOOGA CHAKA!" a la "Hooked on a Feelin'." It's better if you don't ask. Took off from there around 1:45 or so and headed home. Today I got up and the weather was so impossibly beautiful (78 degrees and supra-sunny), that I had to take the top off on the new Jeep. Aweschome. I took Westheimer all the way into Ft. View Cafe, singing along to Fountains of Wayne and grinning like a brain damaged monkey. ("Baybeee!!! Baybee Baybee! C'mon what's wrong? It's a radiation vibe I'm groovin' on!") Yeah, I'm really not very cool...but you knew that already. =] Did breakfast there with Mom and Zhe Voolburglah. Good stuff. Then Nussell and I hopped into the Jeep and drove around Memorial Park looking for suitable kite flying spots. Unfortunately, that place is chock full o' trees, and the only place we found was on a baseball field...which was locked. So we went over to The Building Formerly Known as Transco and flew it for a little while in the park next door to the Waterwall. Not much wind unfortunately, so it was a short trip. But any trip in a Jeep on a day like today is a good one. (Did I mention how beautiful it was outside?) Dropped him off about an hour ago, and I've just gotten out of the shower and am getting ready to go see Stars at The Proletariat tonight. (Yes, by myself...I never could convince anyone else to go, and the only people who even kinda dig them are in New Orleans for the weekend.) The only snag in the whole thing is that the top is still down on the Jeep...so I'm a little concerned about parking it on the street out there. Okay, I admit it, I'm a little paranoid...but I've only had it a week, cut me a little slack. I think I'll just take my CD case and the windows out and store them in my apartment. Then hopefully there'll be very little for someone to steal, for those so inclined. looks nervously outside at the potential thieves of the world You should leave me alone...I really don't have all that much anyway, so please don’t steal or otherwise screw with the few things I've managed to scrounge up. Thank you very much. Speaking of which, I'm not sure if I'm going to hang out for Broken Social Scene or not...I might bug out and hit a bar somewhere after Stars is over. It'd have to be a bar that will allow me in wearing a faded Diesel t-shirt, jeans and some suede Pumas...so The Belv is right out. Gawd...not Sam's again... Maybe Baker St. Or perhaps Dean's...I haven't been over there since the Superbowl parties. We'll see I guess. I wonder how people do this when they have two people to account for...it's been my experience that people generally dislike going out at night with no agenda... And since I have trouble even spelling "agenda," nevermind formulating one, the girl that I end up with is going to have to be a serious "non-planner." Otherwise I'm sure I'd drive her batshit with my laissez faire, "trust in fate" attitudes. shrug Oh well. Okay I think I'm going to make a salad before I head out...I'll talk to you all tomorrow hopefully. Have fun tonight, j.s.

Friday, March 19, 2004

The new computer has arrived...and I only had to threaten the immortal soul of the FedEx guy with eternal damnation to get it here. I've lovingly dubbed it "Hudson," a la Bill Paxton from Aliens. ("Game over man! Game over!") It seemed the right thing to do. Microsoft has pissed me off however. In their proprietary ridiculousness they failed to give me the correct product key for Windows XP. So, an hour-and-a-half of hold time later, I'm screaming uselessly at a Muzak version of Sugar Ray's "When It's Over," and vindictively un-installing IE and replacing it with Firefox instead. Yeah. That'll learn 'em. Regardless, it's all set up and running now...and the next step is to take it to Diedrich's and attempt to connect it wirelessly to the net. (And how do I know that's going to be a ridiculous chore?) I'm not sure what I'm doing tonight...probably Belvedere if I were to guess...but I honestly haven't a clue. Should call J.T. and Kristin and see what they're up to. Tomorrow though...oOooOoo... Tomorrow is Stars at The Proletariat. !!! And I'll be going by myself since no one else likes them. =[ Unless any of you want to go with me that is...huh? Huh? Yeah...I thought not. =] K, I'll talk more sometime this weekend pending I can get this wireless hootejobbie workin'. Take care, j.s.

Thursday, March 18, 2004

Yay...St. Paddy's. Went out for dinner at Pappasito's after work with Mom and D., then drove over to Sam's Boat for a few beerth on the patio. D. decided to head over as well which was really good...he and I haven't gone out in a very long time. Nussell and [N.] showed up about 10 minutes later and we nabbed a table. Luis and K. arrive after the requisite Star Pizza'n and we all hung about The Boat until around 11. Such a ridiculous place, but it typically makes for a good time somehow. From The Boat Luis, K. and I headed over to The Proletariat to catch T.V. on the Radio, which was very, very, VERY good. I'm a little unimpressed with the studio recordings, (thanks again guys for the CD loan!) but I think they may simply be one of those bands whose energy seems to falter a bit when they're not playing directly in front of you. Regardless, the harmony of distortion, the funk-inspired syncopation, and the vocalists offsetting lyrical pitch, are all brilliant. And perhaps the greatest compliment I can think to give them... They were different. I've never heard any one band that sounds at all like them. And that...I definitely dig. We missed the first opening band (Coco Rosa I think) due to Sammy time, but we caught the 2nd openers' set, who were also pretty good. (I think they were called "Panthers.") Their lead singer looked unsettlingly like Neil Gaiman though... So, in between sets, I begin to wonder how it is that I glide between Sam's Boat on St. Patrick's Day, to The Proletariat for an indie band from Brooklyn, and to The Belvedere for gin and tonics, and somehow feel completely comfortable in each venue, despite their remarkable differences. Perhaps it's years of bar-hoppin' experience...perhaps I'm a social chameleon...perhaps I simply don't care... I'm a big fan of it though. And I feel bad for people who wouldn't go to such varied places simply because it "isn't their scene." Having your own "scene" is hackneyed, shallow and passe. Why limit yourself to the singular strata of "a scene?" Does it somehow lend gravity and legitimacy to where you spend your extra time if there are anti-rules, non-dress codes and secret handshakes involved? No, "scenes" seem like a form of social inbreeding to me, and also seem to have a tendency to manifest pretentious idiosyncracies rather than any kind of personal/community growth. Why not see it all? Why not do it all? Then you can write about it come mornin'. j.s.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

And now I've replaced my phone... So I'm just about put back together after last week's "7 Days from the City of Dis" escapades. With the exception of the girl thing...and I hear she's gone back to dating the 5' 2", freckled, red-headed, bearded, IT headhunting ex-boyfriend. She obviously prefers "diminutive, ruddy, and hirsute" to "tall, dark and handsome." I'm going out with Nussell to pick up a T.V. for his b-day tonight. (Yay...Greazy Voolburglah Birfday Vishin's!) And we're going to try to find somewhere along the way to have our picture taken. And tomorrow is a tentatively scheduled "T.V. on the Radio" viewing with Luis...speaking of which I need to ask him if he's actually going to this... My laptop should be here on Thursday...(checks the FedEx tracking website for the 49th time today) Yep...still Thursday. I'm getting so excited about this that I'm beginning to glow in the dark. Yay! Thank God things are starting to come back together. OK, I'm taking off...talk to you soon. j.s.

Monday, March 15, 2004

Look...over there...it's one a' those Weekend Recap deals... Friday Left work around 4ish after setting the network back up, and headed out to Dad's for a bit. Hung about, worked on his computer a little...he headed to the Aeros game around 5, so I went to the diggy-diggy-diggy BUCKS for a cup o' joe. There I realized that I'd been driving around all day with the plastic covering still on parts of my Jeep. Slightly embarrased, and feeling like I'd forgotten to take the tags off of a new pair of pants that I'm wearing, I peel the plastic off and toss it. Caught up with Grover for a bit on the horn while at Starbucks. Religion, politics, the music industry, the Internet...all the usual suspects were touched on and confirmed that they are still, indeed, completely screwed up...basically because they are not being run by us, or by people like us. Around 6:30 I headed over to Liss's place to pick her up and we headed out for Brother's pizza. (Yeah, I can buy a Jeep, but I can't afford 1/2 a pizza. Sad but true. Thanks again Liss.) And damn those Brother's guys...I don't know how they do it, but they make one orgasmic pie. Mmmmm..... After Brother's we decided to head over to the CineMegaMultiPlex 4000 on Grand Parkway to see Secret Window. Here's the rub on that. I really liked it...right up until the last 15 minutes. It was then that things took a turn for the suck...and it became a hackneyed version of two other films. And the closing shot...a ravenous guy chomping into an ear of corn in what looked like 2x speed, was possibly one of the worst endings to a film I've ever seen in my life. I'd love go into more detail, but I don't want to ruin it for those who might go see it. I'll put a small hint about the two films it was like in the comments box though, if you're planning on seeing it don't open it. Anyway, I think the pseudo-compentent directing throughout the rest of the film made up for the sucky ending, which was a shocker coming from David "The Trigger Effect" Koepp. Pizza's here...brb. K. So dropped Liss off after the movie and headed home to crash. Saturday I did the B-fast thing with Nussell and Luis. Afterward Luis and I drove by the Jeep dealership to drop off my down payment, then swung by Blockbuster on the way home and picked up Ninja Gaiden for the XBox, and proceeded to geek out for the rest of the afternoon and evening playing it...with an hour break for Katz's. Awesome game, but really, really hard. (Or I thought so anyway, and you're oh-so-much l33ter than I if you think it easy.) Sunday I went over to the AIDSWalk Houston thing, but it was pouring so I decided against walking. I just dropped off my $$$, picked up my T-shirt, then went to La Strada with Gram and Mom. A mistake I will never make again. We arrive at La Strada at around 10:30, 30 min. before they actually open. Once inside, we are informed that in order to enjoy the privilege of having brunch at La Strada, we must pay a $5 cover per person. I'm still floored by this... Why in God's name, after going out to several bars on Saturday nights and paying the ubiquitous cover charges involved in such an activity, would you want to go somewhere for breakfast that ALSO involves a cover? Perhaps they believe that you're so used to paying just to get into places that you won't notice. I mean seriously, it isn't like I'm going to hang out in your restaurant for hours...or only order water/coke since I'm a designated breakfast driver...I just want some fuckin' coffee and an omlette. (By the way, don't bother asking them to remove the ham from the ham-n-cheese omlette...they'll refuse.) The omlette wasn't even all that great anyway...but the server was kinda cute, and that has a way of making up for a multitude of gastronomical sins. (I know...I'm shameless.) Went back to my place afterward and got a call from J.T. He headed over and played some Ninja Gaiden for a couple of hours, then took off to meet Kristin after her class. Talked to Nussell shortly afterward, and ended up heading over there to, again, play some more Ninja Gaiden. We did get sidetracked for a bit by some godawful high school reunion reality show. Words simply stare, helpless and mute, at the towering, nightmarish trainwreck that television has become. Anyway, played over there until around 11, then headed home again. I think, all told, I spent maybe $20 this weekend...if you don't count going on the hook for about 20 thousand that is. I still don't know if Jenny is going to come into town this week or not...I'm honestly kinda torn about it. While I really want to see her, I don't think I can afford to have her down here. As much as I love her, she can be kinda 'spensive to have around. Guess we'll see. Oh! And Luis was kind enough to inform me that T.V. on the Radio is playing here this Wednesday, and that Broken Social Scene and Stars are going to be playing the Proletariat this Saturday night. Yay! Also, this could potentially be the last of the weekend updates on Monday. My laptop was shipped this morning, so I might actually be able to post things a bit more often on the weekends from random coffee shops...which is where I do my best thinking anyway. I'm excited about the prospect...you should be too. Take care, j.s.

Friday, March 12, 2004

And here she is... Just like the red one at the top, but with no back seat. I actually really liked it that way. Nantucket style. =] (I very rarely have more than one other person in my car at any time anyway.) AND I just got off the phone with a salvage yard guy...who wants to pick Opal up for $500. My God...that ridiculous plan is actually working...now if I can just convince the AT&T people to let me renew my contract and get a free (or super cheap) phone things'll be on the up and up... j.s.



So... I drive a Jeep. j.s.

Thursday, March 11, 2004

I'm hesitant to say anything about this...basically for fear of alerting the angered cosmos to my plans to get on my feet again, and thus taking another boot to the back of my ribs as I try to get up. But I will...because I'm a little excited at the prospect of it. I filled out the paperwork and co-signed with my Dad on a new Jeep today. They're doing their credit checking thing as I type this... (and have already called the office and verified my employment and payrate and such.) I might have word back as soon as this evening, or possibly tomorrow morning on whether or not it's a go and what my payments will look like...which is the real question here. So this is how the plan breaks down... Hail, %t! The [Jeep] people are willing to take on the $3,000 that I owe on [Opal the Car] and finance it into the overall cost of the [Jeep], then simply write me a check for the extra 3k. I then send that 3k to [Mitsubishi Motors Credit], who will send me back the [Title]. I take the [Title] and give it to the scrapheap guy, who will come to [Joe Auto] and tow away [Opal], giving me (hopefully) around $400 for her. I take the $400 from the scrapheap guy, and then turn around hand it to the [Joe Auto] peeps for the labor charges ($384.00) involved in telling me that my car, that I've loved for 7 years, is kaput. Jeremiah mourns the loss of Opal. Then I drive off in a new [Jeep], slightly the worse for wear. Experience Noise Congratulations, you have a new +1 Jeep. You have gotten better at Life Finagling! (225) That's it...that's the best plan I could come up with... And it involves the help of many people in both finances and belief in me. It's set up like dominos on vaselined glass though...one small bump and all of them come down, leaving me back at square one, and begging for more money and/or more time. Gee, any wonder why there's a swarm of butterflies flapping around in my stomach right now? So everyone, please think good thoughts for me...I've apologized to the cosmos already. j.s.



My phone broke. j.s.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Opal the Car is dead.

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

And now...drumroll I'm sick too. Woke up at 7 and spent 45 minutes kneeling on the bathroom floor, my head resting on the toilet bowl seat. It's some kind of strange stomach bug/hay fever amalgamation that must've found me sometime in the night...because I felt fine when I went to bed. So now I don't even have my health...such a pitiful wretch. What I do have though are some decent and kind lasses around me who actually give a damn, and who seem to incessantly (and irritatingly) rekindle my faith in their gender as a whole. Cases in point are H.'s comment yesterday, and this E-card that I got today from Jenny. Both of which have helped my morning immensely...thank you. =] j.s.

Monday, March 08, 2004

Let's discuss the suck of this weekend...this is going to be like chewing tin foil... Okay, Friday. Hungover all day, went home and napped for a bit, then started off the night at The Belv. That place is ludicrous. Every girl in there was stunningly beautiful...and I stood at the end of the bar, jaw nearly agape, just staring from face to gorgeous face. Then, Nussell zhe Greazy VoolBurglah arrived, and we took off to meet up with [N.] and [The Girl from th...fuck it, her name's Jennifer.] So, we catch up at Sam's Pub, chat a bit, have a few drinks, blah, blah, blah...nothing is really popping. Then a couple of other menstrosities show up that know [N.} apparently. They leer and grin their toothy grins and basically look like typical overweight and ridiculous apemen. They decide to go to Treasures...everyone seems to think this a good idea, so I go despite my better judgement. I sit there and chat with Jennifer a bit more...still not much of anything happening in the attraction department...with one small exception. As we were on our way back to the table after getting up for a drink, a crowd was beginning to coalesce in front of us...without looking back at her, I wrapped one arm around the small of my back and opened my hand...I had just enough time to think "I wonder if she knows this game?" before she put her hand in mine and I steered us through the crowd. That...was my one feelgood moment of the night. Later we left, and caravan back over to [N's] apartment. Jennifer is passed out cold on the couch by the time I arrive, I shrug, hang out with Nussell and [N.] for a while. Then get up to go home. I wake Jennifer up gently, tell her I'm leaving. She says, "I'm cold." I nab a blanket, drape it over her, kiss her on the forehead and leave her a poem I'd written that she was my muse for. (Don't look at me like that, it wasn't a love poem or anything, it was just about the first night I'd met her...ease off.) I wrapped the poem in another note that said asked her what she was doing the next day, went home, and slept for about 5 hours. Saturday I get up for breakfast, which I ended up doing by myself, then go right back home and try to go back to sleep. Wasn't working...so I play a little Madden, then read for awhile, then write a bit...nothing. Still not getting tired. At around 4:00 I'm beginning to wonder why it is that Jennifer hasn't called...(hey, a brother gives you something from the heart, you need to at least have the decency to call him back and say "thanks," even if you didn't like it.) So I give up and call Nussell, wondering if he'd heard anything about her from [N.]. He checks... "Yeah...that's a "no" man." "Wha..er..rea...why?" She says she's "not your type." Run through the XX decoder ring, I've surmised that "I'm not his type" simply means, "I'm not interested in you." "How does she know that? She hasn't a clue who I am..." "I dunno man...she said that you were 'upper crust' and she's 'hippie chick.'" Exasperated and completely confused, I stare wide-eyed across the courtyard of my apartment complex quietly for a few seconds. "Really?" "Yeah...sorry man." "Right...k...I'm gonna go." Needless to say, this proceeds to blow my Leonine mind for the remainder of the evening. "How could she not want me?"s and "What the hell is wrong with you?"'s and "Have you lost your fucking mind?"'s ricochet around my head for hours. Yes I can be arrogant, yes I'm a bit conceited, yes I've even been known to be a bit of a snob at times, but I also know, as do most of you reading this, that I'm a pretty good guy when it comes right down to it. I'm sure as hell not unattractive...in fact I might even go so far as to say I was pretty good looking, (note the purposeful lack of conjunctions between "pretty" and "good looking," I'm not calling myself "pretty" and neither should you. Thank you.) I'm smirkingly self-deprecating nearly as often as I'm self-aggrandizing, and I would fight lions for those exceptional people in my life that I've deemed worthy of caring about. I know how good I am. Yet she is somehow not interested??? I'm obviously still at a loss to explain it... shrug Oh well. Nusssell tries to cheer me up by doing the "you're creme brulee and she's just Jello man...you don't need that..." thing. Some of it helps I suppose. So Saturday night, he and I go out to Red Star, which I can with all confidence recommend that you all avoid. Liked the downstairs lounge-y area, hated the rest of the club. Filthy...crowded...and patronized by mere children. Just wasn't my scene. We decide to bail after a botched attempt at a Tanqueray and tonic that I simply couldn't bring myself to drink, and we head over to The Belv. It's ridiculously crowded in there, and Jen the Bartender is once again dextrously slinging drinks around the bar in a whirlwind of sublime beauty. I say hi, chat for a bit about how crowded it is...then head out to the patio. Calm...relaxing...easy. Much nicer than Red Star...and we didn't have to pay a $10 cover to get in. I still can't finish a drink though, and Nussell and I come to the realization that we're just not in any mood to be out...so we nab some Chacho's and head home. Sunday The perpetual hangover begins to ebb away, and I'm feeling better than I have since Wednesday. So, when J.T. calls and says he's going to Sam's Boat. I, of course, agree to meet him there to drink many beers. Along the way, I notice that my car is beginning to heat up a bit, I worry about this on the way, but I make it safely there and simply hope it'll be okay when I leave. It was actually a good day at Sam's. The people watching was excellent...especially when one considers that it was nearly 80 degrees out and sunny...skin was bared again after a long winter, closeted skirts and tank tops were pulled out from underneath winter sweaters...was very good. And there was a particularly cute girl there. A particularly cute girl with a pygmy boyfriend nearly 6" shorter than she... And while the little guy talks to her at the bar, she keeps looking over his head at me nearly the entire time he's talking. So I keep looking back. She keeps staring. Until the little pygmy realizes she's not looking at him and begins to turn around and glare at me angrily. I laugh out loud at this, likening it to a puppy growling at me, and I grin back at him, then her.. He turns back around, sees her with her eyes fixed on me, then takes her arm and leads her away...she rolls her eyes at me and follows behind him. I wave "bye." (Not interested??? She's really not interested? I'm...I'm...I'm at a loss...) So J.T. and I hang out for a bit...and there are too many smiles and stares and quick conversations to list here ensue, then I go out to my car to head home. Starts up fine, I drive off and head for Voss. Then it starts to overheat again. I stop, put water in the reservoir which is completely empty, and keep going. The temperature slides back down and I think I've solved the problem. Then, as I'm driving down Voss toward I-10, it spikes again, my car makes a hideous grinding noise, the engine cuts off, the oil light comes on, and I coast to a stop. Hazards on. What the hell? I try to start it again, works fine...drive for about 100 yards before it starts to grind loudly again and then cuts off...same thing. Now my engine is smoking. I decide against trying to start it again, and glide over into a left turn only lane and call J.T. He's on his way back. We push my car up to Las Alamedas where I get out of it, lock the door behind me and slam it shut...leaving my keys...in the ignition...with the CD player playing Postal Service...to no one. I call AAA. Get them to come out and unlock the door so I can put some oil in the engine and see if that's the problem...they do so. Oil doesn't work. I ask if he can tow me...he says no...he's busy. Fine. So I just ride with J.T. back to my Mom's place, relate the story of my weekend to D., especially the part about Jennifer, after which, like a good brother, he proceeds to tear into her, and women in general, for hours. (Be glad none of you were there...Derek and I lash out with scary amounts of vitriol when it comes to that particular topic.) Then, as if I was receiving a cosmic reminder that not all women are heartless, venomous, shallow, pseudo-people...Jenny calls. And I have to explain what's happened to my car, and that I might not be able to go to New Orleans with her. And that was really...really...hard for me to do. So I go inside, and sleep. Today D drives me over to meet the tow truck driver and to take my car to Joe Auto again. He can't get to it today, but will call me tomorrow morning with a diagnostic. I'm don't have much hope for getting out of there for under $1k....and I've approximately $5.00 to my name. No, I don't know how I'm going to do that yet. Guess we'll see...it'll be interesting won't it? So, as I sat on the grass along Voss on Sunday night, I ended up thinking at great length about exactly how I got here. And how it is that I'm penniless, car-less and alone...yet again. But I won't take you through that dark and windy mental canyon road here...suffice to say, I don't think I'm going out nearly as often as I have been. Mental stock was taken, checked, and I realized that, despite all the new people I meet and see and flirt with when I go out...I'm still not any higher up in number in the friends department...and I highly doubt I'm going to meet anyone I'm interested in dating at a bar anyway. Besides... Even if I did they'd probably think me "upper crust" and thusly not their type. And Jennifer? Sorry sweetheart, but I only know how to carry myself one way, and that's with a certain amount of grace, poise, and intelligence. And if that's as intimidating to you as it is to the rest of the world, than that is very unfortunate. See...because I thought that maybe you were different. j.s.

Friday, March 05, 2004

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Avoid "Tuaca Lemon Drop" martinis at all costs. Yes, they may be tasty, but they quickly gang up on you... And they're sinister little harbingers of head-wracking agony. I look and feel completely glazed today... I'm supposed to go out with [The Girl from the Party] tonight and I look completely worked. Genius Jer...going out last night was a brilliant idea. Not to mention we're going out to a bar, so I'll be jacking my body up all over again. Ugh...I'm going to need an intravenous Gatorade drip, vats of Visine and some kidney Band-Aids before the weekend is out... And for those who are willing to tread into the dark, torch-lit grottos of my mind, I'll share something with you. I'm kinda nervous about going out with [The Girl from the Party] tonight. Giving me butterflies. (Yes, I know...shut up.) I think this is because I've been out with her twice, and I think we've gotten along well each time, but then for reasons that are lost on me I don't hear from her for weeks afterward. So my head leaps to the assumption that I've done something wrong...and I start tearing apart all the things I've said and done with her trying to figure out exactly what it was...and then of course I wonder how I'm going to avoid doing whatever it was it again...all while attempting to be suitably non-chalant about the whole thing since I've only been out with her twice...etc., etc. My noggin can be a not-so-nice place sometimes... But, in brighter news, I ordered my new laptop today! fanfare Lemme see if I can find a link to it... There we go. Mine isn't that sickly green color though...it's blue. And the little alien eyes on the front apparently glow with an unsettling light when you turn it on. That'll raise a few eyebrows at the coffee shop...=] "What the hell is that thing?" "I dunno...but take my picture with it..." Exciting stuff...well, I'm excited anyway. I haven't had my own computer in a year. I'll also be out of excuses as to why I'm not writing more, since not having a laptop was the last one I could muster. Eek. Okay, I'm heading home to take a nap in the vain hope that I'll look a bit more attractive afterward. (Though at this point I'd settle for just "a bit more human.") Oh, and if you think of it, wish me luck sometime tonight...I could use it. Night. j.s.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

I have to at least put this link here...feel free to donate if you'd like. I'm asking around at the office too, so my goal isn't as pathetic as it looks on there... j.s.



And for those of you keeping track of such things...today marks one year to the day that I packed my things, broken and dejected, and readied to move to Houston from Utah. It'll be one year that I've actually been here this Friday. ... I don't know how to feel about that. I haven't lived anywhere consistently for over a year since I was 18. begins to get nervous j.s.



Hiya. I'm pretty busy, but I'm taking a quick break to post. Weather = the suck, so no kiting lately. Instead I've been a regular at the gym, and I'm feeling/seeing the [psychosomatic] effects of such. Went out with Nussell zhe Greazy VoolBurglah and [N.] last night to a random little sports bar. (I think it's called Denny's...but I can't be sure.) Shot pool for a bit, listened to some really awful karaoke and had a couple of pitchers of bee-ah. Was pretty low-key, some mild chatter, but otherwise pretty slow. I think we were all a little tired to begin with. Something very interesting did come out of the conversation however... It appears that [The Girl from the Party] has requested my presence at Sam's Pub this Friday night. See...and I'd all but convinced myself that she was supra-not-interested... Curiouser and curiouser... The thing is, I'd planned on stopping by my salon sometime this week and asking [Girl at the Counter] out...how do they always know when you're just about to give up and turn away? Hmmph. Also talked to Jenny yesterday and set our date for going back to New Orleans for her spring break...which is two weeks from today actually. Wow... Anyway, we're staying in the same place as before, and I'm both confident and fearful that this time around will be even more out of hand than the last...now that we sorta know what we're doing down there. And I briefly spoke to Erica a little while ago about her spring break, which is the week following the New Orleans trip. There's talk of me flying up to Baltimore for a long weekend and hanging out with her there...maybe even going to NYC for a day or two. That's still way, way up in the air however. (I PUN!) Just depends on how much $$$ I come back from New Orleans with. OH! And it appears that I may be getting a computer at home, possibly even a laptop, in the near future...so I'll be able to post whenever I like instead of only when I take a break at the office. Happy days! I'm sure I'll have more to say about that as the details get ironed out... K, I've gotta run. Take care, j.s.

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

"Don't cry because it's over...smile because it happened." ~HAPPY 100th DR. SEUSS!!!~ j.s.

Monday, March 01, 2004

Pssst...weekends are good things and much too short. Friday I bailed from work around 4:30ish and was bound and deterimined to go out somewhere that night. The trick was, everyone was busy doing their own things. Undeterred, I head out to The Standard. 4 G n' T's later and I'm yawning...place was dead. So I head to Sam's. Mistake. Everyone who is normally outside on the deck was instead crammed inside. This caused the normal suckulence of that bar to be amplified by n, and create an entirely new dimension of suck. And as the band launched into a guitars-only version of House of Pain's "Jump Around" (and the entire place "WOOO!"'d in enjoyment), I calmly made my move for the door. So, about to give up and head home, I get a call from K. on Luis's phone and she said they were on their way over to The Belv. Thank God. So I head over there, have a good time chatting with folk, briefly talk to the world's most beautiful bartender, Jen. (She blew me a kiss at one point and I's all a flutter.) Did Chacho's afterward, which is always tasty, and then went home. Saturday was breakfast with J.T., Mom, D. and Nussell zhe Greazy VoolBurglah...and I can't seem to recall what else, if anything, I did. I think I took a nap on the couch at one point... OH! I went to the Aeros hockey game! (I knew I did something on Saturday.) Went with D. Had a really good time...although strange girls behind me kept messing with the tag on the back of my shirt... Until I said, "Oh my God there's touching. There's touching..." They recoiled in alarm...I turned back around. They also kept asking irritating questions about hockey loudly enough so we could hear them...and therefore answer them...over and over... "What's slashing?" "It's when you go like 'dis." makes slashing motion "And you can't do dis." makes hooking motion "What did they just say? 'Hey, Scott...you suck?'" "Among other things, yes." "Why is he blowing the whistle?" "It's called 'icing.'" "Shouldn't that be a foul?" "Er...no." Anyway, had a really good time despite them. It'd been a while since I'd been to a game... Sunday I got up and did lunch with Gram and Liss + 1 at the Olive Garden. Also pleasant, until I became sauced. (No, I wasn't drinking...I was literally hit by errant flying sauce that a server dropped on the way by.) After the O.G. I headed out to Katy to hang with Dad for his B-Day. D came by and we all did Wings for dinner. Then, it being Oscars time, I headed out and shot over to Nussell's house with Luis and K. Oscar time again. I am, for the most part, thrilled about the overall looks this year. (I even liked Clint Eastwood's little bow tie thingy...though that never would have worked for anyone else.) And despite it being kind of a generic year for fashion, everyone at least looked respectable...very few missteps really. Ahem...though Sandra Bullock should feel terrible about wearing a dead Muppet around the hems of her dress. And Tim Robbins? I really hope that dye job was for a part you're doing big guy. Conversely, I loved Susan Sarandon's look once again... She is a ludicrously attractive woman...moreso when one considers she's 57 years old. (So Suze...whenever you're ready to ditch little Timmy, you drop me a line k? I'm the Ashton to your Demi.) Let's see...who else... Annie Lennox scared me. Did anyone else think that she looked like a voluptous, curvy woman from the waist down, and a 10 year old boy from the waist up? Unnatural. I wasn't a fan of Depp's hair, but hey...he's Capt. Johnny Depp. He could don a raspberry colored unitard and pour raw sewage on his head and the jerk would still be irritatingly attractive. Julia Roberts looked as breathtaking as always (despite the Farrah Fawcett 'do, not because of), and there were actually comparisons drawn between her and Jen the Bartender from The Belv. (I still contend that Jen is much more beautiful, but there was considerable dissent.) Adrien Brody's Binaca shot cracked me up...as did the "DEL TACOOOOO!" bit with Jack and Will. (And while we're on the subject of commercials, Badger the Mastercard Dog ranks among the cutest things I've ever seen.) Nicole Kidman looked like she was ready to spit venom on anyone who said the words "Best," or "Actress" in her vicinity. And Bill Murray's face, after not winning Best Actor, absolutely broke my heart. (That really sucks Bill. If you want we can go kick Spicoli's ass...though you're going to have to blindside him with a bottle or something first. I hear he fights like a Comanche.) Renee Zellweger was smartly corseted...though I was lukewarm about her pink dress/train. Bad color choice for her complexion. Whoever Scarlett Johansson's make-up artist is should be dipped in bronze and preserved forever. She looked classic, formal and elegant. Not to mention astoudingly hot. Fitting that she give the Oscar for make-up. I really wonder what Peter Jackson's wife had in her hair...whatever it was it appeared to be nesting...and multiplying rapidly. You know even Robin Williams didn't look bad... I can't think of another badly dressed person actually...though I missed the red carpet walk. I'm sure I'd have a lot more to say if I'd seen the rest of the trainwrecks in the peanut gallery that weren't nominated this year. Okay, I've no shortage of things I need to do. I'll talk to you later. j.s.

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