zOMG

Seriously.

Queens of the Stone Age, August 4th in Indy. Murat Egyptian Room.

Yes. I love you Josh Homme <3

Volkswagen conversation

Joey: Nick, I saw that you got an aircooled! Looks sweet.
Nick: Yeah, got a deal on it. 69' Super Beetle. Very little rust, the carbs need work, though.
Joey: Nice, what does it sound like? Bet it sounds like-
Nick: Complete dog shit. Well, when it runs...
Joey: Oh.

Popping my XBox Live cherry

I finally popped my XBox Live cherry today. Logged online and did an hour or so's worth of racing against virgins and total strangers VIA Forza Motorsport 2. Needless to say, I was the lucky one in each racing room: stuck with people who couldn't speak a lick of English, twelve-year-olds who think it's a great idea to not use their breaks through a chicane, and run their RX7 into the back of your $450,000 Ferrari, sending it into a wall. Fiberglass shrapnel spraying everywhere. And you still win.

Well, some of the races, can't complain. Three victories, and placed no lower then 4th in every other race. Not too bad. Plus, I got 26 "points." Whatever the fuck that means.

Wrong laser WRONG LASER

The man layed his hat on the table
Hung his coat up on the wall
Sat down to dinner said as soon as I am able
I’ll say something nice to you all
Then he took a deck from his pocket
Spread 'em so I saw 'em all
Then he turned his back to me shuffled em and drew me
The card that said I never would fall
Oh Mary Lou won’t you tell me what to do
I got a dollar on the corner and a laser in my shoe
If I don’t get an answer gonna split myself in two

He spun till a ton was glistening
Turned to me and gave me a smile
He said, "I’m leaving now but I want what you owe me
I’ll be back in a little while."
That was the last time I saw him
Hope I never see him again
I know it sounds funny but I owe him some money
And I really don’t want him for a friend

Relaxing

I'm sitting in a brown recliner, surfing the Internet, while my cat sleeps in my lap.

I couldn't be happier.

A thank-you

Wow, my blog has a whopping 54 hits! I never thought it'd get THIS BIG.

As a thank you to the 3 or 4 people that have stopped here roughly 13 times each, here's a visual thank you for your dedication to my meaningless blog.

Here's to 54 more views from the same handful of people.

*cheers

Big Money. Big Prizes... I LOVE IT.

And it's a get together to tear it apart
Gave my middle finger a brand new start.
I got a greeting can't say what it's all about
but my middle finger is gonna carry it out.

Everyone has one of those stupid epiphanies when they're doing something and then BAM, the light comes on. "Holy crap! This is what life's all about isn't it?! Wow, this is it!" Maybe they're helping homeless people and shit by providing meals. Maybe they're volunteering, or spending time with family, or partaking in housework, or whatever. I had one yesterday, and I can certainly deduce that it isn't helping people. Or being charitable.

Well, if by "helping people," I mean "smoking pot." And by "being charitable," I mean doing it with arguably the greatest human being to ever walk the face of the Earth, Bryan "Tenchi" Reed. Then yeah, I definitely mean it. That's what the past three-ish days have been. A cannabis-ladened haze filled with Gradius V, fighting an ocean of zombies in a shopping mall while wearing a horse head, talking about metal, and sitting in a chair in your pajamas with the a cat who's named after a sweet and tangy beverage. Oh yeah, and work, too. But nobody wants to hear me talk about my job (all three of you who read this stupid blog that I should stop doing). BR is going to be up here soon, and I can't wait. He's the most timid member of "Us featuring CR," which is probably the main reason why I'm so glad he'll finally be up here, doing shit with his life.

Oh, who am I kidding! He'll be doing the exact same thing he was doing in his parents' house: drugs, Half Life, and drugs. The only difference is that he'll be in Muncie only about one minute away. Which is more enough for me to offer a huge sigh of relief. I've missed those three guys, mainly because I would've preferred to share a majority of my college experiences with them. Just growing up and shit. Hanging out, stoned on weekends, talking about video games that we've all beaten a thousand times before. And Kris fucking that Indian chick. Or rubbing her boobs. Or whatever the fuck he did.

Lately, Muncie has been thrown into an ocean of ball sweat and ridiculous drama. Everyone. Every single resident. People being mad at other people. The whole "You're wrong. No, YOU'RE WRONG," persuasion that I generally can't stand. It's been getting to the point where you can't look at somebody without giving them a rash, without causing miscarriages (kind of like Grand Theft Auto IV will) or reducing their face to a soupy paste. Seriously people, what the fuck?

This is a call Muncie. Calm the fuck down and lay the fuck off! That's right, you at the MT Cup sipping on the shitty chai latte while your fat wife greases up your Harley for take-off. Beef's customers, quit coming in 10 minutes before we close and cause me to take an extra half hour to close. Quit driving bad, quit being a dick.

Just calm the fuck down. Please. I seriously don't care anymore. However, I can share what I dostill find a great deal of pleasure in.

This.

And this.


Relax yourself, girl. Please settle down.

A Brick of Heat

So that last post was supposed to be a thank-you and a vocal expression of my appreciation for everyone I interact with in Muncie, not a personal attack. After reading it another time, it kind of came off as shrewed and a little emotionally front-loaded, which wasn't my intention. If you weren't included in the post with a name representation, please don't assume that I don't A.) care about your contributions to my well-being or B.) don't care about you period. It was just me writing something quickly in order to post.

On a completely unrelated note, you probably need to buy this album. To go along with the new album, the Meat Puppets are going to be playing in Louisville on August 27th, and you better bet your sweet ass that I'll be in the front row. There have been some killer shows over the past three or four months that I've missed in Louisville (Sebadoh....), so I'm making it my goal to go to this show no matter what. Plus, my pre-order for the Pups new album should be on its way. It's supposed to have an autographed poster, some buttons and shit, and some other cool stuff. All for only 13 dollars! I feel like a 46-year-old housewife buying shit off of QVC. Only I can hide my child bearing hips much better.

----

Needless to say, the last post I made was completely misconceived. I apologize for that, to whoever it may have upset. Now, if you'll please excuse me. I'm going to get dressed, drive to McShittles and eat lunch. Then play Forza Motorsport 2 until I have to go to work.


Zap Boobada Bop*

A call to arms

I haven't updated in over a week. Why?

I really don't know. There have been times where I've pulled up my blog homepage to write an update, and I just don't. That doesn't mean I haven't been writing, mind you. Recently, I rekindled my love for my iTunes "So, you're writing..." play list, consisting of my drug-addled, low-fidelity indie anthems, 70s space rock, and Descendents, because let's face it: EVERYONE likes to write while listening to Milo Aukerman wail.

Thinking and writing. Thinking about relationships. Thinking about my last year in Muncie, my last year in college. Thinking about my dog. My sister. My filthy apartment. And I'm torn by it all.

Around this time next year, I'll (hopefully) be done with college. Packing up my tweed pants, knit hats and striped sweaters into beat-up cardboard boxes and getting ready to move back to southern Indiana. Knowing me, I'm going to be stubborn, say goodbye to no one, and lift my middle finger at Muncie as I merge onto I69 south, "Statue of Liberty" or "Kabuki Girl" blaring out of my broken front speakers.

My cat will be sitting next to me, clawing at the door on her cage. It'll probably be raining, which'll cause my mom to call me two or three times, assuring me that "I has terrible vibes that something is going to happen to you on the way home." So, I'll keep driving. Pass the Bloomington exit. That stupid red bridge which housed that cataclysmic fireball that was once a red Ford Probe that I passed on my way home on my last day as a freshman. (Unrelated, but that last sentence is really choppy and poorly written. I could do better). The roads will wind up to my parents house. The park is going to be empty. The swings barely moving. "Tab" will be playing, and I'll forget that the song is 32 minutes.

I'll start some life that I can't describe because I don't know what's going to happen. I'll have some job that probably won't matter, and I'll have to start trusting new people all over again. That's when I'll miss Muncie. 10 minutes after being home. I'll miss my dirty fucking apartment. I'll miss everyone telling me how I'm supposed to go about my relationship with my girlfriend because they have a richer, more idealistic idea of who I should be dating. I won't have Jake sitting in the brown chair, downloading pictures of cats with their head in between hamburger buns.

I'll miss my roommates never cleaning the kitchen. I'll miss flipping burgers in some shit-hole restaurant that I continually dismiss, but can't seem to quit. I'll miss talking to Ryne about video games we'll both never play. I'll miss hearing him laugh. I'll miss Juice doing flips off the doors. I'll miss sifting through a mountain of Magic cards with Mike and talk about decks that we made when we were 12. I won't have Deanna to talk about David Bowie with, or that creepy movie that Tom Cruise is in where he's this crazy elf guy who fucks some chick with small tits.

Nate won't be there to do Carl's voice, and Martha won't be there to talk about Josh Farris and his gut-wrenching body odor. I'll have my family but no second family. And it took until I was 21 to realize that having a second family is just as important, if not more important, then your real family. No matter how far away I am, I'll always have Mom, Dad, Jen and Heidi, but I won't have "My Muncie People." There were a few times this year that I seriously wanted to take all of my shit out of the apartment and live in my car because I was fed up with them. I didn't deserve to get treated the way I did by any of them. Neither did my girlfriend.

But it doesn't matter, because I forgave all of them because they're all too important to me.

I'll end it here, because I don't know what else I want to say.


I don't even know anymore.

"My friends are all dying, and death can't be lying. It's the truth and it don't make a noise."