2002-04-16 - 2:15 p.m.

Blech. It's hotter than a mother out there. Of course, as usual, it was 20 below this morning at 6 when I got ready. So I was walking around in my portable jacuzzi suit today (on loan from the Van Houten family). The stifling dry feeling of death didn't make me nervous while doing my presentation AT ALL. Except it did. So while I was up there preaching about "I Spy" versus "Good Times" versus "E.R." I lost about 10 pounds of sweat. At least now I am down to my original girlish figure of 115 lbs. So yeah, it turned out the Sealab clip I was going to show probably wouldn't have worked out as well as I had planned, so I guess it's good that I couldn't find it. But those good natured hobgoblins that stole it are more than welcome to return it at their earliest convenience. But the NewsRadio clip went over well and everyone put me on their shoulders and marched me out of the room clapping and yelling about how I just delivered the Ultimate Zing. And then I snapped back to reality and I was saying words like "Angry Black Man" and "Latino-American" and such. It was all quite exciting.

So yeah. I think Ben's computer is HAUNTED. Seriously. As I was getting ready this morning I heard noise coming from it and I turned up the speakers and it was a Rage Against The Machine song playing scratchily. So that freaked me out, so I threw baking soda on the computer grabbed my jacuzzi suit and left for the library to meet one of the monkeyfucks that I'm doing my Chinatown project with (have I mentioned I'm doing a project on Chinatown?). When I got back this afternoon, I turned the speakers on and this time I could faintly hear Clapton! I know what you're thinking. Clearly, like the haunted radio station in Laconia by McLaughlin + Rachel's respective houses, this computer was picking up the radio signals from the netherworld! But NO! Because it played 5 Clapton songs in a row. From the SAME ALBUM. And say what you will, even DJ Grim Reaper and His Morning Zoo Crew aren't THAT CRAZY! But the scariest part? The baking soda was all gone. And when I asked the computer what happened to it all it said it "didn't know". Sigh.

I'm feeling extra figgy today. I think it's all the Fig Newtons I've been eating lately. I guess I should be thankful I've eased off the Sunbelt Oats & Honey bars, otherwise you could smell my pachouli oil a mile away. . .

Perhaps I need to make a clarification due to my last entry. I have been contacted by a few individuals who believe I was a little too quick to tell a certain story with certain pieces of paper shoved in a certain pair of my pants (please don't confuse this story with the one where I had a cake shoved down my pants . . .wait, did I just type that?). I have been asked to make a few corrections and apologies to certain parties. And I will take this time to do so:

-Ricky wasn't at Patrick's during the vote, he was downtown at Frates' rehersing with Hannah for the upcoming recital. So he didn't come back to us, we met him at Frates' afterwards.

-We went to Dairy Queen before we went to go see Ricky.

-I Am Very Sorry that I did not get a LARGE Cherry Mister Misty Freeze and opted for a Medium that day.

THERE. Happy?!

So my father is absoultely up in arms (not "babe-in-arms") that those "damed people that call themselves Etheridge 'fans' and are part of her 'fan' club get the first 10 rows of her concerts reserved!". (read that with a special emphasis of derision on the word "fan") This pains me considerably. That these are the things that bounce around in my father's gum tree of a brain. So I said to him "Why don't you just get it over with and join the damn fan club?" To which he replied, "You think you're funny, don't you?" To which I replied, "Yes." So hopefully, with luck, my father will get backstage passes and all will be right with the world. . .

Poor Mello Yello. It's trying so hard to still be relevant in this post-9/11 society, but I don't think introducing their new "Mello Yello Melon" brand flavor is really an avenue they needed to explore. Good luck to you Mello, good luck. Hey, it can't be worse than Surge or Mist. I'm just glad Robert Urich isn't alive to see this new sordid chapter in the Soda Wars.

Marionettes here I come!!!

It's been real,

Julie Cypher

ps - Spenser: For Hire R.I.P.

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