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Red White And Blue Ledbetter

2004-07-04 - 11:39 p.m.

Drink: Vodka and Pepsi (it's as foul as it sounds)

Listening To: Pearl Jam

Quote: "So you having a bbq or what? Because I have gay weddings to schedule." - Hannah

Happy 4th? No. That shouldn't be a question. It's more like HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!!! I can recall a 4th of July years ago that involves Olann, Jeff, and . . . hmmm, I don't recall the third person - perhaps Jimbo? Tim? Ben? (If you're reading this and you're the 3rd person, tell me - I'm leaning towards TC) Anyway, Olann, Jeff, and 3rd Person shoving 4th of July Flag Cake down my pants at Jeff's dad's house on Varney Point. I passed out on whatever oddity we were drinking that night - probably Maker's Mark or some sort of Drambui. So, OBVIOUSLY, they felt the need to shove cake (with blueberries and strawberries - which stood for the Red and Blue in "Red, White, and Blue") down my pants. They woke me up by poking me, and my drunken self, feeling an odd cakey sensation in my crotch area stood up and stuck my hand down my pants. The cake crumbs that came flaking out of the bottom of my pants caused peals of uproarious laughter. I think this jolted me back to conciousness. Because then I was so pissed/revenge minded that I stayed alert until Olann fell asleep and managed to stick gobs of mayonaisse in his ears. Ah, Boys. Aren't we grand?

Yeah. So while other's are shooting off Roman Candles and drinking Miller High Life to celebrate all that is great in America, I'm not-so-fondly remembering a time when an Irish kid stuck cake down my pants. U.S.A.! U.S.A.! Anyway, there seemed to be a dearth of fireworks this 4th of July. Although I imagine that those visiting Olann's homeland of Ireland - Ben, Tim, Liz, Jackie - probably saw even less fireworks. I don't envy those guys trying to reassimilate back into US culture. Red Sox - Imploded?! Mary Kate - anorexic?! Brando - dead?! Spider-Man 2 - kick-ass?! Yeah . . . it's gonna be tough.

Didn't end up going to the Guster/Ben Folds/Rufus concert in LA with Rick due to stupid work. Rachelle took my place and Rick tells me they had a grand ol' time. I can't wait for the same concert this Sunday in Boston. Speaking of beantown, I'm gonna be having me an old fashioned Boston weekend. Red Sox with Kelly and Liz on Saturday (even if Liz doesn't know it yet) and then concert on Sunday! But what about the staph meeting on Sunday in Barrington?!? Weeeeeellll . . . guess I'll be hitting the dusty trail on that one.

And what are we to do with Froderick and Coty? Well. That's a good question. Let's tackle Fred first. Why? Well, because I have pictures of Coty so it'll be easier to end the paragraph with him. Fred. I have not talked to Frederick in some time. He asked me ages ago to e-mail him what I thought of a CD he made me. A simple request. And easily warranted, since he had recently e-mailed me a review of every song I made him on a CD. That was over 3 months ago and I still haven't e-mailed him. Aren't I a grand friend? Yeah. I'm not. I know. But Fred knows I still his buddy. Unless he doesn't read this anymore. Then he may not know. But he must know - since I still call him when "Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?" is on USA and whenever the radio is running an "All Landslide Weekend!" We shall see. I'll see him on Sunday and report back then. Coty? Well, our marathon running friend is lighting up the streets in San Diego with his new aerodynamic mohawk. You read that right. As if running a marathon with Scott "Dr. Sam Beckett" Bakula wasn't enough, Coty had to cut his hair into a mohawk. Are you really surprised? This is Coty we're talking about. The same Coty who just felt the need to share with me that Lori moved to San Diego. A fact that he's been meaning to share with me for over a month. That Coty. He's as timely as a Wu-Tang comic book. 9 Rings at that.

Oh buddy. Oh buddy, buddy, buddy.

I've seen Spider-Man 2 twice already and plan to see it more. It fucking' rocked. I LOVED IT. Def. better than the first movie. Not to say I didn't love the first movie. But good lord did this movie rock. Rick and Andrea and I saw it on Tuesday night at midnight. Beat that with a spider-stick. You can't! Mostly because there's no such thing as a spider-stick, but let's not be sticklers when it comes to spider-sticks.

Andrea finally informed me that one of the choruses to The Pixies' "Gigantic" is "Hey Paul, Hey Paul, Hey Paul, Let's Have a Ball." While that's all well and good, I still prefer my version, which was the quite logical, "Drakkar, Drakkar Noir, The Salad Bar." Stupid fact checking Andrea.

I got two phone calls the other night at like 2 in the morning. I didn't even hear the phone ring and didn't realize anyone had called until I saw that I had 2 missed calls that next morning. I had two messages. I checked the first one. I didn't catch who it was right off. They were clearly drunk and not making a lot of sense. Yes, with my friends, this narrows it down considerably doesn't it? So I keep listening. " . . . you god damned motherfucker what?" ". . . and we've got a question for you . . ." " . . . what? I know. No. Talking Heads . . . checking up on ya" "Hey . . . just wanted to say you should be down here . . . because we miss your ass . . . I don't know." *click* Hmmmmmm. At this point I have a pretty damn good idea who it was that called, but first I listen to the next message (which has drunken overtones, but is no way as drunk as the first person who called) - which confirms it. "Next New Message. From: Peter Farmer. 'Hey Zach . . . yeah. I'd like to apologize for one Jon Farmer. Yeah. Thanks." Aww. Isn't that nice that Jon misses me? I miss you too Jon. Especially the cheddarwurst and whiskey that comes as part of The Jon Farmer Experience.

Hey I can't believe I haven't finished all my chores before Ben gets home tomorrow. I am so screwed.

It's been real,


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