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Voicemail Vixens Vex Voles

2003-09-19 - 2:55 p.m.

Secret Word: Tropicalia

Listening To: The Apfel Solution

Quote: Take our lives, but you'll never take our dagger wielding, giraffe riding stewardesses! - Hannah E.

A Friday? Sundaes on a Saturday? I don't know. Sure. Moe's on a Friday are much more appetizing though. Trust Me. Well, trust Andrea, she's the one who stopped and got them. But I ate it! Hooray for eating!! It's weird out. And the fucky weather is making my phone not get any reception north of Tampa. Yeah, it's weird. And by weird I mean ISABELARIFIC!

Let's pause for a minute. And I mean a real pause, not that stutter-stop quick pause deal that the NES Advantage let you do, which really only worked well when you were playing JAWS. And seriously, JAWS was fucking IMPOSSIBLE! Ok, ok. It wasn't IMPOSSIBLE, it wasn't Athena or anything, but that shit was difficult. [Side Note: God, and I mean GOD couldn't beat Athena. Seriously, just when you thought you'd have a chance at beating that game, some fucking piss ant floating suit of armor with a giraffe head that throws its magic laser neck tie at you and turn you into a mermaid and drop you into a volcano. And you're thinking "oh that Zach and his crazy stories about magic laser neck ties that turn Athena's into mermaids . . ." but it's TRUE! Even the Japanese must have been like, "Dude, this shit is FUCKED UP."] -- "Hooray! Attention!" Anyway, yeah, so Jaws. Collecting the conch shells wasn't too hard, but then you had to RAM Jaws in the throat with the front spear-y thing on your ship. I think that refueling maneuver in Top Gun was easier than this. For real. And Jeff owned the Advantage AND Jaws. So I blame him for any mental harm that came to me from playing with either of them. Anyway. A pause. A pause for Hurricanes. I know I've said this before, and if I haven't, I should've, but The National Weather Service can suck a fat dick. I know, I know, who hasn't said that at one time or another? But seriously, they, like seemingly everything else that's carbon based, are out to get me. They come up with Hurricane names at the beginning of the year. They need to come up with a 2 male and 2 female names for each letter of the alphabet. Well, I shouldn't say that. Every letter EXCEPT for Z and Q. Fuckers. Yeah, so all you Xaviers and Yvettes out there can rejoice. They assume that there will be ONE HUNDRED hurricanes or tropical storms in one year, so they ready 100 "suitable" names. "SUITABLE" I'm sorry, if it comes between needing a skateboard and special plastic pointer to get on the LHS elevator or being SUITABLE by the standards of the fat dick eaters at the National Weather Service than I'll take riding in a funny car any day. God I make no sense. Oh yeah, and all you Gails, Bobs and ESPECIALLY Andrews are shit out of luck too, because if a hurricane is especially "strong, fierce, or deadly" then it is retired permanently. A joy that Quade Jordan and I will never know.

"Non, merci, Je n'avais pas etre le ouragan!"

Awww, I miss Jimbo already. Sad. He's already past Chicago and is on his way through Nebraska. He's not going through the dire Badlands of South Dakota. Do you blame him? I mean come on, those are BADLANDS! It's dark. And it's scary! And there's goats everywhere! All for the getting! Actually, I loved the goats. But not the forest fires. Those weren't so cool. Awww, I want to go cross-country again. I'm jealous. Anyway, Jimbo's on his way to Boulder and then to Salt Lake City. FOOL!!! Does he not learn his three friend's lessons from their prolonged stay in the land of the Morms?! Sigh. Apparently not. Although Salt Lake City is quite a bit North from evil Cedar City, but still, why take the chance? Godspeed poor Jimbo, Godspeed.

That's me at a rally a few years ago. Oh me.

Did someone say PETER?!?!?! Super sweet. Petrarch is going to be here on Sunday and Hurricane be damned we are gonna have ourselves one ol' fashioned hoedown . . . hodown . . . hoe down. How the fuck do you spell that? Anyway, yeah, we are gonna have us some fun. Yeah, it's a Sunday and that isn't the best day to have a party, but whatever, that's when Pedro will be here so that's when the party is. And we all finally get to meet the much hyped Titie. Yes. Indeed. So there's that. It looks like there will be a good turn out too, including an ace up my sleeve for Peter that if anyone's been paying attention to the BBBQ guest lists this summer wouldn't be that surprised about. And my pops has threatened to come down on the hog again. And my mother said she "wouldn't miss a party that Peter would be at for the world!" See, you people know where your bread is buttered - on the Farmer side. Seriously, one may think I'm building Peter up to be far cooler than he is . . . but I'm pretty sure that's impossible. Man, I have to remember to get a quote board for Sunday, as I'm sure we will fill it. I even made Peter a new CD for Sunday, entitled The Apfel Solution, and I'm listening to it right now and I must say, it's one of the best CD's I've made in quite sometime. And Ben and I are going on a cleaning frenzy to get ready for all the festivities. Well, I'm cleaning, Ben's mostly trying to restore the electricity to the parts of the house that are lacking said electicity. He also went house on the upstairs where all my boxes of shit are sitting. It's like all my shit I've been carrying since Holman Street. And he, understandably, wants it out of the way and in the attic. But it's so daunting to go through all that shit. Argh. And he's inched it closer to the attic trap door thingy. I think he's sending me a message. This from the kid who puked in a trash can in his room and left it there ALL DAY TO BAKE IN THE SUN. Let me tell you, that smelled SOME good when I discovered it that night. Even Kenichi told me that he found it foul. Did I mention Peter was coming?! Cause he is.

In "lesser-friends-than-Peter" news, Monique is getting all hepped up that Simon and Garfunkel are reuniting for a tour this winter. Can you blame her? I mean, who cares about a bunch of dead Ramones when you can have Art and Paul up on stage trading blows?! But yeah. I imagine Mad Dog must be thrilled about the news too. He's an old S&G fan from waaaay back. I will have to speak with him about it on Sunday. But yeah, so Monique and I are on the prowl for tickets so if anyone out there gets some front row seats in Boston or New York and feels like sending them our way, go right ahead.

The most current pic I could find

It's the Playmobil PlayDay [pronounced: "Pleemoobul PleeDoo"] tomorrow! Horray! Aren't you excited? Sigh. I can't blame you. Really. A crown and some tattoos and a poseable lesbian golfer? Hoo-ray. But yeah, at least Al-Y and Hannah and I had the time of our life stuffing the bags. And by "time of our life" I mean that we were finally all able to do the lift move with Wonks and Wobbly during the closing ceremonies at Kellerman's this summer. And then Jonathon runs in and says, "Nobody puts the micro-Baby in a corner! NOBODY!" Sigh. I am SO glad I amuse myself.

Anything else? Probably. I always leave something out. Oh, Brad and I are in a fight, but I don't think he knows yet. He's dumb like that. Oh wait, he gets mad when I call him dumb. Hmmmmm . . . how about he's STUPID like that? Yeah. That works well.

Oh, for the sake of the 2 of you that don't know, She is NO LONGER the Sheriff! I'm not sure if I already mentioned that or not. But nevertheless, the Princess of Power has moved on to pinker pastures and, reportedly, is devastated over the whole business. Which I'll take any kind of business over the business Dottie did in the back room yesterday. Ewwwwwwwwwww . . .

Well, it's getting late and I have a date at the bank to deposit my paycheck - it's our 37th date, do you think I should at least ask the Teller if she's Mormon yet? No? Yeah. You're probably right. Play it safe. Well, off to steak and cheese at Brooke's bachelor pad! Hooray!

It's been real,

Officer Darling

ps - If you see Frederick tomorrow, wish him a Happy Birthday . . . you know, cause it's his birthday.

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