slung low like a whore, devil want some more

The world really does not appreciate the work of White Zombie enough.

This dance floor is cramped and covered in stamps

I skipped out on the first 15 minutes of office hours today to check my mail at the post office.

"Why?" you ask. "What could possibly have been that important that you left BSU at 9:45 am to check the mail, when you could have simply stopped there on your way home this afternoon?"

The Shins' new album came out today, and I couldn't resist picking it up at the post office. When I opened the tiny door to my box, my portal of communication to the outside world, and saw a large shipping envelope post-marked Seattle, WA, I did a jig of exuberance and celebration.

Seriously. I shook it and dropped it like it was hot. Or warmer than average, anyway.

For tree huggers,

The pedantic hypocrites of 3rd floor Hagg Sauer sure do go through the paper. Seriously. I printed of my class roster, a fucking two page document, and I had to stand in a line FIVE people deep.

Teachers, the ones who cauterize bungholes for putting things off until the last minute, were just printing off their syllabi for classes that start TOMORROW.

I had that shit done two weeks ago. Granted I had little else to do over break.

Thesis? What thesis?

I'm going straight to hell.

Friday in Hagg Sauer

Technology has me in chains today. Dirty, cold, rusty chains with sharp barbs that, at any minute, could give me tetanus. Better get that shot.

The "older laptop" that the university has so graciously lent me to use during my duration as a GA, or, more accurately, has thrown at me and screamed childishly, "No give backs!", is giving up the ghost. Literally. All morning spirits and goblins have been transcending through the monitor screen.

I lost the applications disk to my Palm Pilot. I probably threw it away, thinking I would never need it again, as it is installed on two different computers. Ah, the naivete of it all.

The good thing is, I get to start teaching next week. Wait...oh.

well, here we go again

Umm, I'm embarrassed, like the "going to school naked" dream that people have. Except that I AM naked at school. That, however, is not the source of my embarrassment. I'm actually ok with being naked in my office...it's very liberating.

What does embarrass me is that I have not posted here since October. I wonder if anyone still checks here. Anywho, good news...

I have found, finally, after 24 years, that dreams really do come true sometimes. For most of you people, they just happen and you smile your warm, fireplace smiles and think, "Gee, life is good. Maybe I'll pretend to be edgy and depressed by listening to some Perfect Circle or Evanescence." For me, I have to do some killing to get my shit happy. This story talks about one of those times.

Before Xmas, whilst surfing upon this great, blue wave we call technology, I found out that the Shins' next album will be available on Jan. 23. I pre-ordered it for $11. You can do the same here.

That took the edge off the razor for a few weeks until I saw something that literally, but not really, made my heart jump up into my empty brain cavity. The Shins, the vessel upon which I have placed my hopes and dreams for the past year (and especially the past 6 months), were finally coming to MN again.

I bought tickets. Right away. The instant that I saw them onsale. I have them on my desk right now. They glow.

Even though I didn't have to kill anything to get this dream to come true, that doesn't mean that I won't. So watch your backs.

"I believe that you and me, we could be so happy and free inside a world of misery"

My thesis is floundering. The baby steps, the ones that are supposed to encourage me, give me hope, are the first steps to an early, empty, cold grave. Or McDonald's.

You want fries, motherfucker?

Slightly jealous

I am jealous of the BDawg, as is every man in at least three counties in Minnesota and god-knows-how-many in PA. Not for the size of his genitalia, which is considerable, but because he is a slacker and has no worries/problems with that. He embraces the jobless world with a hearty grin and an awesome fedora.

Traveling to Texas? Not a problem! Let me load up the Cavalier with some jammin tunes and we out.

Minnesota? Old news, homes!

I, on the other hand, hyperventilate when I don't know exactly how next month's rent will be paid. I am far less of a man than the BDawg. I am a stop on the long and winding road of his life and times (kind of a mix of Bonnie Somerville and Bob Dylan in that sentence...go me).

Come back to MN and teach me all that you know about not caring. The little shit in life is going to kill me...I just know it.

"Hang my head, drown my fear till you all just disappear."

Just like that lyric is all. A shot to the junk for the blogger who can place it, naming both the song title and the artist.