Observations

I think that this may not be too unusual for people in this town right now, but every time I hear a sound or feel a vibration out of the ordinary, I think we're having another earthquake.

Do not underestimate how much psychological damage can come from natural disasters. Not that the earthquake we had was by any means disastrous. But it was still...shocking, I guess. I can laugh about it now, but it still is affecting me. Standing there behind my desk, feeling a sensation that was familiar, but still foreign. Thinking that I could very possibly die right then and there. Feeling the floor roll. Watching the brick and concrete that is always still and unchanging move as if it were tall grass being blown by a strong wind. It fucks with your head a little bit.

I wish I had had Godspeed You Black Emperor! when I was 16 and angsty.

As much as i generally loathe advertisements, I like Hennessey's tagline: "Appropriately complex." That fits my life to a tee. It is approprately complex. Maybe disproportionally complex...

I think vegan hamburgers make me gassy. (It was still very good, Chris. Thank you for your hospitality today. AMQA will live to rawk another day.)

My HTML skills are booty.

Everyone should listen to Jaques Brel. Most emotive, histrionic French singer I have ever heard.

Chimay red label leaves a really funky aftertaste. Especially when paired with Sour Cream & Onion Pringles.

I think my upstairs neighbors are wrestling right now. It's really fucking annoying, and if I wasn't such a nice guy, i'd go up there and tell them to shut the fuck up. Then again, it is a Saturday night. We all get a little out of hand on weekends sometimes. But I really want them to shut up. I think they have a dog up there. I like dogs. Just not in conjunction with my infamously loud neighbors.

My least favorite word of the moment is "fishalicious". As in "Fresh-fresh-fresh fish-a-licious", from whatever fucking commercial that's from.

I find it amusing that people are entertained by watching people drink Blow Jobs. I'm sure it takes skill to pick up a shot glass using nothing more than your lips, but c'mon folks...

It's bedtime.

A call to arms

Does anyone care to share with me what all this "all your base are belong to us" business is about? I've noticed a proliferation of this grammatically unsound phrase lately, and Mr. Know-It-All here dosen't know what it is.

Foamy Pabst And Other Delights...

Made a field trip up to Braodway. Got some grub at World Wrappppps. Stopped at the internet cafe so I could view my LJ properly (at home I have my browser set to not auto-load images; otherwise, it takes forever and a day to load up the page). Unfortunately, LJ was being sooooper-pissy and unwilling to cooperate. Stopped at ShittyMarket on my way home, and on a whim, picked up a sixer of Milwaukee's finest suds, Pabst Blue Ribbon - the first can of which I managed to knock over as soon as I opened it. About half of its former contents are now on my kitchen floor. Maybe I'm glad I didn't get the 40 of Lucky Lager.

Bought some CDs as well:

The Droo Church - In A Pasture Built For Lovers: Never heard 'em. Local. $2.00.

Mudhoney - Boiled Beef & Rotting Teeth: Touch me, I'm sick.

Ennio Morricone - The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly soundtrack: Aye-ee-aye-ee-aye wah wah wahhh...

Antarctica - s/t ep: I like this record. I did not like the 2-disc set they put out after this. Waaay too...er...I dunno. 80s poppy sounding, I guess.

Excuse me while I finish mopping up the beer off of my floor. And myself.

Phooey.

Puffy, J. Lo and Me

I forgot to mention the dream I had last night...

I was in a building I presumed to be the Pacific Place mall downtown, 'cept it was a lot more posh. In fact, it didn't really look like Pacific Place, but whatever. I was on one of the upper levels with several other people. The room began to fill with smoke, so everyone began leaving. I remember having to repeatedly return to the room to retrieve several of my guitars (?!). When that was completed, I went to another area of the building - a restaraunt. I found myself sitting at a table with Puff Daddy, Jennifer Lopez, and some old white guy who I assumed to be a record company exec. The three of them berated me because I wasn't dressed appropriately and because I had worn a baseball cap into the restaraunt. I took off my hat, and they made fun of me because my hair was all messed up. I distinctly remember Puffy smiling and laughing about my hair.

And that's all I remember. It seemed very real. I dunno what it is with hip-hoppers making guest appearances in my dreams lately. First Chuck D. and Cut Chemist, and now this. Weird.

In other news: It's supposed to be in the 60s this week. Drought be damned, gimme some sun.