2003-03-31 - 10:48 a.m.

Here I am. Bouszh! Rock me like a Hurricane! Or . . . you know - not. I don't really care. Whatever's easiest for you. The last thing I want to do is inconvenience you by asking you to rock me like the aforementioned Hurricane. You know there'll never be a Hurricane Zach? It's sad, but true. In order to be a hurricane there needs to be 2 adequate boys AND girls name for the hurricane. Let me explain. So it's alphabetical right? So the first one of the year would be Hurricane Alexander or something, the next one would be Hurrican Benjamin perhaps. Well, the National Weather Service people (I don't know if that's the actual name) claim that they need the back up names in case we plow through all of the first choice boys names, then the first choice girls names, then the back-up boys, then the back up girls. Um, that's a lot of fucking hurricanes for ONE YEAR. And as someone who knows nothing about hurricanes, I feel comfortable in saying that. So, understandably, they can't come up with 4 non-African "Z" names for two boys and two girls. Sure, you've got Zach for boy and Zoe for girl - but then what? Zeke? Zebulon? Zebedee? (I know Peter is partial to Zebedee, but the rest of the world isn't as mature as Pete) And for back-up girls? Um . . . Zenitha? I have no idea. The other letter they won't use? Q. Fuckers. So while we're sure to see a Hurricane Jimbo and Hurricane FredRobie in our lifetime don't ever plan on seeing Zach or Quinn. (But Hurricane Niko? That's a sure bet.)

So here we are. End of March. We've survived the Ides and that much more. After work, if you want to call it that, on Saturday I decided to go up to ol' Laconia. You know it, you love it, you puke on it's streets every middle of June, or pretend you secretly hate it if you're from Nashua when in fact you lust for it - Laconia. Here's the thing. Saturday marked the first day in history that I drove on it's streets unfettered by the shotgun accessory known as my father, or any other sort of guide or instructor. Just me. Let loose on Laconia. I'm not so sure I liked it. I mean Laconia is all well and good. But mentally, being the freak I am, I had some issues. But I mean, this is my own personal Online Journal, so who am I to delve into that here? I mean, why waste bandwidth on emotion when I can waste it on Llamas right? I thought you'd agree.

"I agree."

So Saturday night I met Brooke at her house and we went up to The Common Man in Ashland, or maybe it was Plymouth. I don't know. They're both right next to each other and both towns have one so fuck if I know. It was dark and raining and Leon was getting laaaarger, so how was I to tell? Anyway, what I do know is that I LOVED it. I am going to marry the upstairs barn couch infested lounge of the Common Man. It is great. And the more I've tried to explain it to people that haven't been before the more stupid and unfun I make it sound. So I'm not really going to put my heart into it here, but there were all these sofas and lounge chairs and stools and chips and crackers and pita bread and dips and chess and cards and trivial pursuit and good drinks and relaxation and I loved it. And I want to go back. And we kept saying how much Ben would love it. But you know what? Everyone would. Tim and Jimbo would loooooove it. Andrea and Phil would loooooove it. My Dad would loooooooove it. Fred would hide under the chair and swipe at fallen crumbs, but still . . . he would looooooove it. Who wants to come with me? Cause I'm going again. We had fun. And we even decided that we need to go down to Brooklyn and visit Brett and Niko. And Monique too. Of course. And then I brought Brooke back home, beeped my way down Anthony Drive and went to that ol' factory of fun itself - Patrick's Pub and Eatery. (It's where Good Food, Evil People, and Mediocre Entertainment come together - at least that's what the ad on WLNH always informed me) I met Rick for a drink after he got out of work and then Artie met us after he got out of work. I know so few people there nowadays. Which I guess isn't a bad thing. It was pretty much Guzman, Scarab, my own cousin Allyson, Artie, Ricky, Tom, and Glen (who sadly, I hit with my car at the time of this writing). Also, a certain arch-enemy from Gilford was there as well and oh the irony and karma was flowing fast, as Brooke and I had just hours earlier spent time recounting our run-ins with the nefarious Golden Eagle. So we stayed there for a bit, hemming and occasionally hawing about the Red Sox, the Bruins, the black hole of suckitude that is Vin Baker, and UNH Hockey, which had just finished whupping BU's ass. After a finishing our drinks and sharing our best Winkleman stories we (meaning ME driving and Ricky in shotgun! Gasp!) went driving around to visit some familiar old haunts, and you know that The Pope of Donkeytown was on the top of our list! Sadly, the P. of D. was MIA. A fact that we confirmed when I practically drove on to the Pope's lawn and saw that he had been uprooted! C'est Scandale!

Maybe I could be the new Pope? The Pope of Llamatown? Sounds good? Maybe? Hello? No? Bad idea? No, I understand. I do. 2004 will be my year. Eyes on the prize. Eyes on the prize.

I went back to my mother's late Saturday night and stayed there. We went to Border's the next day and spent money on Easter presents ["I still don't get how you get Easter presents." - Ben] and amidst the snow and the sleet and the wind and the monkey took the glasses off my head, I made my way back down historic Route 4, back to Rollinsford. Then, last night, in a move unheralded since The Brady Bunch, Ben and I went over to Andrea's where Phil made us the most scrumptious pork chops I've ever had. Considering that I've probably had pork chops 5 times in my life and the last time was in Rockford, it sounds like faint praise, but I assure you, just as Ben and I assured Phil 1/4 of the way through our meal, it was outstanding! Plus, as is par for the course, I "helped" Todd and Rex play CTR. I fear I'm influencing Rex too much as he kept saying, "I love Tiny Tiger so much. I'm going to marry Tiny Tiger."

Doesn't anybody love the Eggplant Wizard so much that they're going to marry him? Sniff . . . sniff. Anyone? You should know that I'm neutered.

Speaking of neutered, guess who goes in for the ol' snip - snip tonight? That's right, good ol' Chef Chen Kenichi. I can't say I feel bad for him. At all. It's become more and more obvious that the cat hates me. Good. He runs and hides whenever he sees (or hears) me coming. They call me Stampy for a reason. I know that Ben secretly thinks I hurt the cat when he's not around. While I must stress that I do not hurt the cat, I can't blame Ben for thinking that I do.

April seemed to have such promise as a month, and it's not even here yet and already it seems like it won't be delivering the goods. There was much hub bub this weekend about travel and hotel plans for KP's big day in August. I just want to make sure we're all in the same hotel. And after hashing it out with Roy and Kelly, I think we are all on the same track now. Which isn't to say that they didn't know what they were doing beforehand. It was just me that was all frustrated about it.

Work has been as much fun as dysentary lately. It's come down to Kate and I having to buy Maxim, Stuff, and FHM - letting one of us read it first and while they are reading it, the person has to mark all the lines, faces, ads they find funny and put their own comments in sometimes too - then the second person gets to read it and it's that much more fun. This is what we do for fun people. Save us. The people at Ann Taylor LOFT probably have a fucking keg hidden out back. I know they do. And it will be ours. Oh yes, it will be ours. But until we get that keg, we will have to buoy our fun times with the new Play Visions shipment which is full of squishy balls and water weenies up the wazoo!

Sadly, despite these being the two BEST balls in the Play Vision line, we got NEITHER of them. Because work hates me and they hate my glasses. Also, Becca, I'm sorry I had to use this picture to make a point. I know it dredges up painful emotions best left undredged.

I think that is all. I have to go read read read for class. Oh yes, I remember what else - if you have ever seen Freaks and Geeks, I don't need to convince you how fucking good it was - so please go to this link, and just sign the official petition (started by the shows creators) and help get this show on DVD. It worked for My So Called Life and Family Guy. If we can just get F&G and NewsRadio out, then I can die happy. Which means you should also go to this link and rank NewsRadio as your #1 choice of the shows they list to be put on DVD. These things work people! So do it! Pretty please? With canolis on top? I'd do it for you!

And Alias last night? Kicked my ass. Insane. I *heart* Alias. Seriously, if you're not watching this show, then, well, you're dumb. How's that? People, when do I ever steer you wrong? THIS IS THE BEST SHOW ON TELEVISION RIGHT NOW (excluding The Simpsons and NR re-runs of course) Sigh. And with that -

+ - =

It's been real,

Agent Marshall Flinkman

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