2005-05-10 - 11:13 p.m.

Do you ever notice how people that aren't fluent in a certain language still try to put forth that they are? Let's say, oh I don't know, Spanish.

Am I crazy, or is Helen Hunt not aging well? Maybe I'm just crazy.

It's not that I don't like talking about the Danger Mouse - hell, I love talking about nothing BUT the Danger Mouse! (Is that true? No, that's not true.) It's just that I think you peeps would tire mighty quickly about the inanity that is the Danger Mouse definition of drama. Don't believe me? Here, I'll show you:

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So I was at the Danger Mouse the other day and I flung an elastic at Joyce and she was all, "Don't fling elastics at me." And then I spoke in utter nonsense words for 15 minutes - something that the girls at the Wallakers would have found mildly endearing, but is frowned upon heavily at the Danger Mouse. As is wearing sandles. And making jokes about how the Yankees rape orphans on a regular basis. And getting paid enough money to live on. And then Norma put some ammonia in the water bucket and it burned my lungs and then Nick (Little Nick, not Big Nick) got all harrassed by this crazy woman while he was cleaning boats with Chris - but Dustin and Nick (Big Nick, not Little Nick) didn't see any of it so I had to explain it to them (and Matt - who came in to check if his reels came in). And then Moe had me order go-karts. And at lunch I went home to see Kannerson, talked to Titie about the house her and Pedro are hoping to land, and dropped Alias tapes off to Aly.

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Is it just me, or is that pretty captivating?

Call me psychotic, but who needs a living, breathing Secret Crush when a new blue cell phone will do the trick just as well. Blue? Check. Glowy? Check. Howls like a wolf for incoming calls? Check.

Did someone say "A Lot Like Love 2"? I say, only in a perfect world.

So the Celtics collapsed in Game 7. Hey, kiss me, I'M more Irish than Ricky Davis. (Actually, Ricky Davis isn't Irish at all!)

If it makes me a pansy that I almost teared up during that last Jack-centric episode of Alias AND when Uchenna and Joyce won the Amazing Race, well then color me six shades of pansy pink. On second thought, I like aqua better than pink - so let's go with more of an oceanic theme, no?

Boy - that Ben Folds can sure play the heck out of a piano, but don't hire him to plan out your next mix CD! slow, slow, slow, fast, slow, slow, slow, slow, fast. Ben, maybe Robert Sledge can throw another party and you'll be able to get your tempo sensibilities in tact!

Did somebody say "Follow That Bird" at Circuit City for $6.99? They did. That person was me. And I love Follow That Bird so much that I pureed it up into a million liquified droplets and bathed in it, then drank it, then peed it out into a garden. Some call it "squicky" - I call it "dedication".

Raise your hand if you think the Count's Car is tight, yo! (Side Note: This writer's hand is up. Way up!)

Have a final thesis due on Brazilian psychadelic pioneers? It couldn't hurt to check out some books on "Os Mutantes" at your local library!

If "Sin City" is ridiculously violent, than I'm tall enough to touch the top of my car!

Remember that Happy Days where Ralph and Potsie were all upset because Richie started dated this hellbeast that was a total hellbeast and hellbeasted her way all over the town? And she totally made Richie change his personality? Yeah, no one seems to remember the name of the hellbeast, but everyone knows who Ralph and Potsie are. Well, and Pinky & Leather Tuskadero, but let's not belabor the point, ok?

I know what you're thinking, getting tickets to the Wilco/My Morning Jacket concert has got to be pretty cool, right? Well, superceded only by trying to procure Pixies tickets! Let's hope and pray kind sirs and madams. I figure, since things didn't work out on the Secret Crush front (the person, not the phone), Kim will have no choice but to take pity on me and challenge me to a round of CTR. Plus, their songs have a good beat and you can dance to it. Kind of. Except, not really. Ah, irony!

What is it about not having the ability to burn CDs anymore that's slowly enlarging my heart and shrinking my spleen? Oh right, it's because I love to burn CDs and I can't do it so it's slowly killing me. Ah, explaining myself!

What is it about prodigal relatives who are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want with no consequences (you know, except for losing any last shreds of respectability they may have once, a long time ago, laid claim to)? Ah, burgeoning bitterness!

Am I the only one who thinks refering to houses simply by number - unless they are particulary iconic and have earned it, i.e. "145" - is pretty gosh darned asinine? Don't hold back, let me know how you really feel! lol lol lol lol lol! sw! sw! sw! sw! (that's "laughing out loud" & "slitting wrists" for those of you just joining society!)

The majority absolutely must agree that Jennifer Garner possibly carrying the spawn of Ben Affleck in her has GOT to be the most blessed event since Jim Carrey married Lauren Holley (and then divorced her, and single-handedly destroyed her career! But let's not focus on that part! DON'T be a pessimistic Polly! DO be a Polly-O String Cheese! Everyone loves string cheese!)

El Debarge? Meadowbrook? I am SO there. Now all we need to do is convince Meadowbrook that El Debarge is worth checking out of rehab! (Me-ouch!)

The question: Is there anything better than a computer that never works? The answer: Yes, people who bitch about no entries being written but who can hardly ever find the time to give any feedback on said entries even after 3 years.

It's been real,

Atticus Liddell

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