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Don't Blame Me, I Voted For Burr.

2002-11-06 - 11:00 p.m.

Back. I am. Back. Miss me? Miss me? Now you've . . . got to . . . kiss me? Hmmmm, I'll have to work out the details on this one later.

Where the fuck were we anyway? Somewhere. Something about blood and shaving and pain and aloe and shoes that make piggy sounds when you step down on them. Right right. So much to cover. Oh Aaron Burr, you Emperor among Men. Search for no cohesive themes in this one kiddos - we're gonna be all over the rootin' tootin' map!

First off - WHY has it taken me so fucking long to write entries lately? Well, I'll tell ya - I've been busy. Really fucking busy. Not busy like cutting out the coupons busy. Not busy like looming with the lap loom busy. Oh no, more like busy like 37 hours a week at the Wallakers and still trying to catch up at school over the time I missed because of the tooth whilst teaching myself the stuff that I missed while I was out while stressing out about the impending move to the middle of fucking nowhere. [For those of you curious, Shamung Road in Meredith is now no longer the middle of fucking nowhere, the entire town of Rollinsford, specifically Ben's Dream Fixer-Upper Palace in the Sky is. Except when I say "sky", I mean "middle of fucking nowhere". Have I made that clear?]

Let's cover some good news first though - I found my SPAM shirt - which, to be honest - I didn't even know was missing. But when I found it I was so happy that I almost cried salty little spam tears. Ahhhh, Minnesota. Good times were had there. If only Mondale could have made them even better. NO! I promised myself I wasn't gonna talk about politics. I will say this though - Republicans stink! Ok, ok. That was a little harsh - instead: Republicans suck donkey dick. Charm it all, stupid fucking Republicans even ruin my Good News paragraph. Grumble Grumble . . .

Did I ever mention that I ran into Nate Gordon on the bus a few weeks ago? No? Well, I ran into Nate Gordon on the bus a few weeks ago. He was good. Still working at Wildcat Pizza. Mmmmm . . . pizza.

Speaking of "Mmmmm . . ." Team Kate/Zach/Andrea won the Great Estonia contest at work. I was going to hyperlink "Great Estonia" to the entry where I talked about the contest when it first started and Kate and I went bonkers looking for the one toy in the store made in Estonia, whereas the winner gets movie tickets and an Olive Garden gift certificate. ["Does 'hyperlink' mean that funny underlining link thing?" - Monique "Yes." - Z] But I just spent 20 minutes combing through recent entries and find it I did not. Strange. Why didn't I mention it ever? My guess is that I was paranoid that Beth would find this journal and be on to our Mr. Blick secret. Anyway, despite our behavior from the last staff meeting and against all odds, Kate was announced the winner at this last meeting we had on Sunday. We made a pact beforehand that if we won or lost to show no emotion. Well, Kate broke the pact by screaming, "In your face bi-atches, O. G. here I come baby!" I can't be mad though, I broke our pact about not drinking the night before the meeting - for once - and I failed. The meeting wasn't of much note other than the fact that there was a record number of people there, we won the contest, and Justin bailed on the meeting because of a previous appointment with "sleeping in".

Did I mention that I voted yesterday? I did. Despite the fact that my mother would bar me from Thanksgiving if I didn't, I felt a civic responsibility to vote. I bitch like it's going out of style to be my job. So I figure, here's one big thing that I have some small infintesimal control over, so I better take advantage. For all the fucking good it did. Blech. Well, I should say that it was worth it though. I'd rather vote and have my party lose than be like some of my apathetic friends who didn't vote. And by apathetic I mean stupid. Don't forget, you can't spell apathetic without pathetic and you can't spell stupid without putz . . . but you know, backwards - and with an 's' instead of a 'z'. Whatever. Also, I feel it should be noted that the night before Election Day I had a dream where Annie's ghost came to me (which is odd if for the only fact that Annie isn't dead) and taunted me and yelled at me for not voting and I kept insisting that it wasn't even Election Day yet and she kept saying it didn't matter. I don't know, I think Ghost Annie was hepped up on supernatural goofballs or something. Anyway, I hope Ghost Annie is looking down from Not Really Dead Land and smiling. Although, knowing Annie, she's probably not even a Democrat anymore and is probably Independent, or God forbid, Green! Nothing says wasting your vote like being in the Green, Purple Pie Man, or Russian Blue party. Again, I say blech.

We're reading Othello in Shakespeare this week. Due to Othello being Othello apparently, we had a half hour conversation about Beastiality and general sex with animal taboos. Um - huh? Yeah. And my professor specifically asked me my opinion on the subject. Um - huh? I still like Othello though - much more than the game of the same name.

Chamber of Secrets and Two Towers are almost at theaters, so that makes me happier. I finally got some more details about Book 5. I'll only share here that it will be even longer than Book 4, but if you want to know more (although not specifically spoilery, just in a general manner) check out The Leaky Cauldron and scroll down. Be forewarned, Hannah and April are *still* hiding under their beds.

Talked to Peter last night. He's doing well. He was just in South Carolina for a while working on a case, and now he's in Miami. He leaves for Paris on Monday. Yeah, I know, real fucking tough. When Ben, Aaron, Michelle, and I were playing Estimation on Saturday it made Ben and I pine for Pedro and we were sad. But Pete says it's possible that he'll be up after Christmas and maybe even for New Year's. Which, you know, would be cool. The whole reason I talked to him is because I had heard "Drop the Leash" playing in Hudson News and it made laugh because I kpet thinking of our alternate Ganong lyrics that changed the chorus from "Get out of my fucking face" to "Get out of my fucking pool." Ohhhh, a little New Year's theme in this paragraph. Interesting. I know I have a notebook somewhere where I wrote down detailed accounts of major parties during high school and the first part of college so I'd remember the funny stuff. That notebook is floating around somewhere. I know it covered all the New Year's. Oh there is some epic funny stuff in that there notebook. I know it definitely spends time on the year that I hosted New Year's. It was the beginning of the end of 145, but we still had a hell of a time. More people showed up than I was expecting, but I guess I should have expected that seeing as it was Laconia. Actually, thinking back, I probably was expecting it. Some things were predictable: Lots of drinking, freezing cold, Monique and I getting in a big blowout in front of everyone. Some weren't as expected: DJ Marsh taking control of the stereo, the bottlecaps destroying the garbage disposal (thus giving away the party to Les Foote days later), a huge smoke circle in my garage amidst the oars and faulty flotation devices, and Jon showing up to save the day with all the pizza we could eat! (And yes, that's even accounting for Brooke, Monique, AND Me!) And to wrap this back around to Peter, it covers his "Jim Morrison / Master of Electricity" insanity from that night as well.

Man this entry is scattershot. Sorry. I should have mentioned this in the Shakespeare section. My professor keeps telling us he'll have our 10-12 page mid-terms back by "the next class period". He said today he would DEFINITELY have them. Well he didn't. And he could tell we were annoyed, since we're already working on handing in our next one. Then he tells us the reason he hasn't finished grading them is because he's been busy "surfing the net". Garbled hisses and clacking noises come from the peanut gallery in class. Then he just keeps going on and on about how he's been online and too busy to finish grading our papers. So we're all kinda staring at him and he says that it's amazing what you can find online. And then we all start looking at each other like blanched field mice. Then he says there's things online that are remarkably similar to some of the papers we had passed into him. You could hear a fucking pin drop. And then he just plainly says, "Yeah, so, as soon as I'm done investigating some of you on plagiarism charges, I'll have those papers right back for all of you." . . . . . . . . . Ok, I'm not worried here, because I know I didn't fucking plagiarize. I'm not gonna use someone else's bull shit when I'm so deeply vested in my own. But still, no English Major wants to hear the words "plagiarism charges". That's like a football player hearing "torn ACL" or "urine sample". It's just scary. I just hope it's not one of the hot girls. I'll be so disappointed in them. Well, no not really, I won't.

When I get a grade on something that is lower than I expected to get I decide to go on strike and I refuse to speak for the rest of that class. And I go out of my way to look surly and disinterested and I'm not happy until the teacher sees that I am vexed. I don't really know what this accomplishes. Isn't that so mature?

Ah yes, so Halloween. It landed on the last day of October this year. And, like past Halloweens, I found myself at the Fox Run Mall. Not Long's Jewelry, but the Wallakers. I've been a giraffe and Bubble Wrap Man in years past. Did I already mention all this? I feel like I did. Anyway, this year I was really not sure what I was gonna do. Coincidentally, Ben has been harping on me to get rid of the cereal box collection that has been taking up all his precious real estate on the top of the fridge. "Ding!" went the Easy Bake Oven that is my brain. So at first I figured I'd dress up as Cereal, or Cereal Man, or Crazy Cereal Face. By the time I got to the mall - and carted a bag of cereal boxes around campus all day - I had enlisted Andrea to help me build my costume. My legs were covered in Raisin Bran boxes (one of which had a holographic sun) and my arms were Frosted Flakes boxes (they were Gr-r-r-r-r-r-eat!) and my chest was Bart Simpson cereal while my crown/helmet/visor of power was a mish-mash of Froot Loops and Spider-Man cereal. And Spidey had holographic eyes! Ohhhhh! I promise there will be a picture of me posted as soon as the film is developed. It was sweeeeet. And what was I? I was Riboflavin of course. Stupid kids kept guessing Niacin and fucking Vitamin B-12 and shit. Stupid, stupid kids. Except the ones dressed as Spider-Man, which there were a LOT. 27 that I counted. Compared to 2 Supermans. And one of them was Jason. So that one doesn't even count. We ran out of candy several times, but that didn't stop Super-Jason, Fairy Angel Kate, and Pirate Comedian Justin from spreading Halloween cheer all through out the Mall that Frink built. Honorable mentions go out to Kelly and Liz as a Beirut table, Tim as a Wookie, and the entire female population of Drew, who all went as Kitty Prostitutes. At least that's what I heard. What's that Tim? That's no costume?

[Kinda like this, but cooler - with holograms!]

And Carey called work a few days ago and it was nice to here from her even if I didn't get to see her when she came back for Shara and Adam's wedding. She was jealous that she missed me in my Riboflavin get-up and it made her misty-eyed to back when she'd dress me up this summer. Ahhhh, Carey. I miss her and her wacky big boy ways. But I know someone who WOULDN'T miss her. An employee at the Wallakers. This employee is, how do I say, not the most tolerant person I know. If you have any questions, please refer to Track 6 on They Might Be Giant's 1990 album, "Flood".

So tired. Why am I still up writing in this god damned journal? Oh, because it is super keen, that's right. Thanksgiving should be interesting. Mmmmmm . . . turkey.

It's been real,

Barbanzio

ps - Hmmmmm, I meant to mention somewhere in there that I got the Spider-Man DVD Gift Set last week. And I love it so much. And it's so cool. And I love it. Yeah. It's cool.

pps - "I know most people don't like me. I don't care, since I don't like most people." - Dr. Robert "Rocket" Romano

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