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A Skeleton Dancing A Jig

2002-04-28 - 7:40 p.m.

Sundays are an odd beast. You wake up (hopefully before noon) and you think - Wow, I've got the WHOLE day ahead of me. But then, by the time you get out of bed, it usually only slides downhill FAST. Here are some things that make Sundays rock much less than, say - a Thursday night:

-Cleaning up and putting away the Beirut table

-Trying to identify the people sleeping in the hallway outside your bathroom

-Watching your team blow a close game

-Smelling really bad, but being too lazy to take a shower

-Doing 2 hours worth of dishes

-Suddenly recalling the altercation you had with your burly, tattooed, half naked upstairs neighbor the night before

-Having the Simpsons end and realizing you STILL haven't started your homework

So yeah. Sundays have a pretty good reputation, and I'm all for a day whose most popular adjective associated with it is "Lazy", but I'm just saying they're not as WONDERFUL as they claim to be.

I'm cranky.

Remember our old friends in that kooky ol' GROUP PROJECT?! I know, I know, I missed them too. But don't fret, those lovable scamps are back in full force! Yup, the brain trusts have decided that since it's SO difficult to get our group together all at the same time that during our halfway break in class tomorrow we'll just go to a table in another part of the MUB and and not go back to class. Man, I hope I don't get voted off this island, since I just don't think I could go on living. We have to make a movie. A MOVIE. A movie with these monkeys is going to make "Batman and Robin" look like fucking "Schindler's List". I volunteer to be Key Grip, and after that I am OUTTA HERE.

Now, on the ENTIRE OTHER END of the film spectrum, I figured since I have SO MUCH free time this week, I'm going to go see "Scotland, PA" at The Music Hall. I wanted to go see it when it first came out in the theaters, but since it was an independent film, and actually GOOD, that means Hoyts won't touch it with a 10 foot pole. So, after I resigned myself to seeing it eventually on DVD, I found out it would be at The Music Hall. This makes me happy, and will hopefully de-stress me a bit as I dive headlong into this most stressful of weeks since. . .hmmmm, last week. I'll be going tomorrow night with Ben and Andrea and I pity that they won't be able to speak to me at ALL during the movie as I will be sitting there throughout its entirety drooling with a frosted glaze in my eyes over the beauty and perfection that is Maura Tierney. I won't prattle on for the 100's of pages that I could over why she is the most perfect human being ever created, smug in my knowledge that not only is she beautiful, but she could kick Helen Hunt's warty ass any day of the week.

"Neve, Jennifer, you got nothin' on me."

Let me say this real quick: To those of you that actually read this lemur spittle I call my journal, I want to say thanks. Also thanks for those of you who not only read it but share with me the parts that you like. And one last round of thanks to those of you who have gone to the trouble to show your adulation of my phat skillz by starting up anti-Zach sites. Don't think I can't feel the love . . .because . . .I can. And those of you that don't read it? Well, you have cold black souls and deserve to be spit on by camels every hour on the hour. But it doesn't matter what I say about you, since you don't read this anyway.

Did someone say Leopard Print? So we entertained a bit last night. Tim was already here and stunk up the place throughout the day while I was at "da G." and Ben was playing softball down York way. Wasn't Ben surprised when Tim arranged to have ol' Chris "Woodsides 4-Eva!" Pelletier wheeled in inside of a ginat cake! I sure was. But not really. Cause I knew about the giant fake Chris-entombed cake beforehand. Kelly and Liz, of "Kelly, Liz, and Abby" came up, and showed themselves to be the dilligent drivers that they are and took Exit 8W not a minute too late. Beirut was on the agenda for the majority of the night. I know we called Peter and left harrassing messages on his phone (one that I personally recall making where I said something along the inappropriate lines of "Lips wishes you a Happy Birthday!"). We never got through to the birthday Farmer. My memory becomes a little hazier as far as the rest of the night (though I *can't* imagine why), but I do recall eating a LOT of mint skittles -which I HATED, but also couldn't stop eating- and trying to make sure Chris couldn't have some, getting accused of leaning and cheating ALL NIGHT (which I can't be angry about - since I did, repeatedly), John "I also would like my nickname to be 'Woodsides 4-Eva!'" and his girlfriend . . .Cassie I think?, showing up from Keene at like ONE A.M. But before they made it on the scene, there was lots of "If you lose this round, you have to run around the house naked!" type bets. You know this kind of thing just CAN'T end good. So after the bets got lowered to "Bra/Underwear" status, people were more game. (Although, everyone's favorite was the middle negotiation of BEN having to run around in bra/undies). Needless to say, not only did the Risque Midnight Runs provide much film that has probably already been burned/destroyed, but it only served to raise the ire of our upstairs neighbors even more. APPARENTLY, as we were coming back into the house, they came out on the deck and called us Assholes. I had already gotten back in so I didn't hear this. Which means I ALSO DIDN'T hear Tim yelling back at them that THEY were the "ASSHOLES!". What I did catch was when Tim came back in and started slamming his fist on the ceiling as hard as he could (which echoed my action hours earlier, after being yelled at about the music, when I stood on a chair and "moo-ed" into the ceiling). But my impish behavior was DWARFED by Tim's, as mine didn't result in the Bobo the Drunken Sailor coming down and fighting with Ben and me. I don't feel like going into the particulars of the argument other than to say that it ended well - with him shaking our hands, he isn't half as roast cuttingly ugly as his hog of a wife, and he had a funny little tattoo of a skeleton dancing a jig on his bicep. And as Fred knows all too well, nothing sends me into nitrousesque fits of laughter like skeletons dancing a jig. One of my last memories is of sitting on the couch, with my eyes closed and someone saying "Let's write on him!", which stirred my Spidey-sense a bit, and then hearing Ben say "No, don't write on him, I have a better idea. . ." and then silence. As I was thinking what Ben might have planned, the next thing I realized, I was the sad victim of an Atomic Splash a la' Walden. I then, I am told, passed out on the couch while people left for their 2 a.m. feeding at Friendly Toast. I then woke up around 4 and ambled to bed. So that's, you know, how that went.

Well, after several breaks for TV and food, surprise surprise, I find myself after The Simpsons with a mountain of homework still to go. Argh. And there's a brand new Brak Show at 11 and Sealab 2021 at 11:15. People, what do I have to do to convince you what the Slops and I have known all along?? The Brak Show and Sealab 2021 are two of the funniest shows on television today. Don't let the female-esque misconception that "Animation = For Kids = Stupid" makes the shows bad. (Crap. I think I just lost half my readership) Honorable mentions go to Space Ghost: Coast to Coast (when it's ACTUALLY new - once every 5 months) and Home Movies.

Dr Quentin Q. Quinn says: "Baby, watch my show."

It's been real,

Jack Stone

ps - And the top quote of this last weekend? The winner: Ben Walden - For his repeated (and boy do I mean repeated) use of "Shit Yo".

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