2002-04-18 - 12:52 p.m.

Right. Hearing the lawnmowers mow to their hearts content just proves that it is definitely Summer. (Ignoring the minor fact that Summer doesn't start for 2 months). That and Ladybugs have started back up in their never ending battle for world domination. . .

"I'm not saying it's safe for humans. I'm not saying it's unsafe for humans. All I'm saying is it that it makes hermaphrodites of frogs," a popular scientician was quoted as saying concerning the outbreak of mutant frogs appearing throughout the country due to exposure to even the lowest levels of pesticides. Damn it! Why didn't we listen to that old Sage of Environmental Know-How Chris Shadler?!?! (May D-Rock forgive me for uttering his hated enemy's name) ["Hey, did somebody say D-Rock?! He still owes me 23 bucks!" "We know Ben, we KNOW."] So now it's too late. The frogs are turning into Seahorses and will be able to procreate with themselves. Somehow, watching "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" and finding out about all these mutant sex frogs at the same time seems oddly appropriate. You'd think we would have seen this hermaphroamphibian problem coming. Especially when they started wearing jeans. . .

Speaking of hermaphroamphibians, my father has claimed a new victory in his battle against Melissa Etheride fans (despite "allegedly" being one himself). He now has 4TH ROW/CENTER seats for her concert. Hold on. Joke forthcoming. Brain shutting down for reboot. . . . . . . Ok. Let's see. My father. My male father. My male father has 4th Row/Center tickets to a Melissa Etheridge concert and could not be happier. "Dad," I inquired. "I thought only members of her fan club could get those seats." "Huh? Wait, what? No, we got them." he bumbled. "Ok, but I thought you needed to be part of her fan club for those seats." I reiterated. "Who told you THAT?" he asked, somewhat suspiciously. "YOU DID." I said (while trying to think of another word other than "said") "Oh," he gallumphed. "Well, we got good tickets. That's all I know." "That IS all you know." "What?" "Nothing." I think when my Dad finds out that Melissa Etheridge is a lesbian (from waaaay back) it's going to crush him like that whole Molly Ringwald thing did (though I'm STILL waiting for confirmation on *that* one) or how bewildered and betrayed Nate Dowd felt, after watching and singing the praises of Will & Grace for 4 weeks, when I informed him that two of the main characters were gay.

So a big shout-out to Mix Master Lisa Crawshaw for laying down the best trax on wax during her college radio show on Tuesday and not only romatically dedicating a song from me to All-Star, but dedicating the whole show to little ol' me! And apologizing On-Air(!) for not having more Spider-Man related songs. Oh that Crawdaddy, what a prize peach.

So here's an INCREDIBLY funny thing (note sarcasm). I'd just started the Trail of Tears the other night and I'm BARELY past Woodsides when this white stretch limo passes by me full of rowdy Cats of the Wildest pedigree. Now, how they were able to heckle me with this much dialogue, I'm not sure. I know it was a s-t-r-e-t-c-h limo, but still, they must have started WAY before they got to me. For your enjoyment: "Hey BITCH, fuckin' sucks to walk doesn't it! Ha Ha Ha Ha! You have to walk - (and then, for an extra punch, wait for it . . .) BEE-YOTCH!" After I got done crying hysterically for them berating my Flintstonian transportation methods, I continued on my journey to confront The Nothing and Gamork the Wolf (no, not Derek), but that's all covered in last night's entry.

So last night, on my way to Irving (which Brooke and Peter would have one believe is a 30 minute affair) I ran into that shifty individual known as Rich. I was talking to him outside the Irving for a bit when lo and behold a white stetch limo pulls up beside us. I tell Rich I'll meet him back at my place. I had to do THIS ONE on my OWN. Rich, having no idea what the fuck I was talking about (but being used to that after living with me for a year) just finished his cigarette, shook his head, and left. I stared down the people in the limo. Which proved to be quite difficult, since it was a LIMO and the windows are heavily tinted. (Let it not be forgotten that these Limo incidents are taking place on TWO DIFFERENT nights, making my neurosis even more glaring than usual) So I decided that my stare-down of my invisible, imaginary foes was enough punishment and went inside. It was while I was deciding Diet Pepsi (boooooo!) and milk (yeah!!) that the door opened and the Limo Driver burst inside and yelled "Hey you!". I assumed that he was talking to someone else, but really knew he couldn't be since I was the only other one there. "Yeah?" "You wanna do me a favor??" he gnarled. "Um. Ok, I guess, wait, what?" I perspired (I don't care if that makes sense, I wanted to say "I perspired"). "Wanna tell me how to get to UNH?" So I told him. And then he left for UNH. And I went back to my place. That's all.

Well, time to hit the G. Willikers trail. I can NOT wait to work tonight. I'm going to try to beat our personal best $757 worth of trains to ONE CUSTOMER record. The chances of that happening are about as likely as my dad going to a Meli . . . . .um, scratch that.

It's been real,

Synergy

ps - Sad to report, I picked the Diet Pepsi (boooooo!)

pps - I just ate a whole bag of Saltines.

ppps - I've been informed by my friendly neighborhood dagong that Saltines come in SLEEVES, not bags, so a correction: I just ate a whole SLEEVE of Saltines.

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