the pitchfork top ten is already up, and how bout this: I don't know if it's a good thing, but I agree with those wankers on album of the year! five of their top 6 reside in my top ten! and another places mid-20's on their list. odd, odd, odd. no dntel this year, f'ers!

parents and siblings came in for 'mom side of the family' christmas this morning. the apartment passed their test, which is nice.



i'll be headed home for much of the christmas week, so i don't know what kind of updating i'll be doing. the top 10 page is already there, so what the heck else are you looking for?



pitchfork does release its top whatever of the year tomorrow, which i always look forward to. the only problem? too much idm and crap. and i mean crap. gimme indie rock, i say!

there was one time, probably about a year ago, when i accidentally said "why does everyone hate creed so much. it's not like they're as bad as, say, limp bizkit." after a friend of mine finished beating me with a bottle of ketchup and a salt shaker [i believe we were at denny's at the time], it came down to this: "they just take themselves so seriously." and of course, the more i'm exposed to that albatross, the more i realize how right this friend was.


the reason i think of this is because i saw a commercial today for the current faith hill album. the current single, "cry" was playing under the narrator's voice for the entirety of the commercial. and, as if the chorus [ "oh would you cryyyyyyyyyyyy a little / ..... / let me know that you're FEEEEEEELING SOME PAIN!" or something like that] weren't ridiculous and overt enough, the final words on the screen: "give faith." i mean, really.


in other news, i watched a bit of vh1's 80's marathon or whatever today...an hour-long spotlight on each of the individual years of the decade, told through film and video clips and interviews with b-list celebrities past and present. [the biggest star? perhaps melissa etheridge or the lead singer of the goo goo dolls or, just briefly, lionel richie.] and what part did i find funniest? why, the part about george michael, and how "faith" and "i want your sex" took over the world, and how i was in second grade at the time. and how i brought the album into class to play during free time. and how mrs. o'brien said "'i want your sex?' [giggles from the class] are you sure this is appropriate?" and i assured her it was. and we got to play it while the class was doing an art project. [i don't recall how long we got to play it.] this was the second truly great moment of my life.


[the first? "hey mom---you sit in da bwue chaiw and i'w sit in the yewow chaiw."]

either gurs is a genius, or i'm an idiot, or both. but, thanks to his help, pictures are now available on my top ten of 2002 page. woof.

starting to realize how near christmas is. except for the extreme hit my wallet's taken, what an excellent time of year. as one gets older, one actually starts to understand that it's more about the family than anything else. i'm so excited for tuesday night, when it'll be christmas eve and i'll be at my uncle tom and aunt barb's house, and i'll get to see these great folks from jersey and florida and denver and realize that i'm related to a pretty cool bunch of folks. it's a super time of year. two of those families weren't able to make it last year, so it's basically been two years since i've spent real time with them. emma, molly, gracie, here i come!


on a related note, today marked the quad city river bandits annual holiday visit, organized by yours truly. i got to wear my plaid green tie [i believe stolen from my older brother] and my red blazer [inherited from my grandfather], while we also brought along santa claus and rookie the raccoon. happy, happy little kids. some scared, but most just happy, particularly at the final hospital we visited. i'm looking forward to doing it in 2003. santa suits rule.


on a related note, one of the highlights of my day is pardon the interruption on espn. today, during the errors segment, they had statboy dressed as rudolph. priceless.


that's all i've got. peace. [if doogie howser were born 15 years later, would he do this or livejournal instead of his dorky blue-screened computer diary? yes.]

"second winds suck." I almost, at 2 a.m. last night [that is, technically--this morning], turned on the computer made that paradoxical [perhaps ironic? I'll go with "funny"] observation. You see, I was dead-tired about 1030 last night, but then... I picked up Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire significantly before the first challenge. And yet, I read all the way through the Christmas Party, fully 120 pages or so. I should have gone to sleep.


And now, I feel that tiredness once again. But I'll probably read through the next challenge or so. It's pretty amazing writing. I don't know when I was last so captivated...perhaps as a pseudo-rebellious sophomore reading Catcher in the Rye. An impeccable eye for detail, that J.K. Rowling has. Any word on the fifth installment?


In other news, my top ten for 2002 is created, and I've decided to link the page, imageless. It looked a lot more impressive with the album covers, rather than with the little red x's. I'll figure it out at some point. And it gots to be soon---I'll probably be away from this dreamweaver-possessing computer for about 10 days starting Monday.


Anyway, take a look at the official RedHotHalos Top Ten of 2002 . You'll also noticed it's linked on the left.


When I figure out what I'm doing, I might try to create a 2001 list [I recently tweaked the original] page, and perhaps pages for '00, '99, and '98...dating back to when I started listening to music. I mean, paying attention and all.


In other news, I downloaded the four unreleased songs The Strokes have been playing [listed in what I believe to be order of first performance]: "Meet Me in the Bathroom," "Ze Newie," "You Talk Way Too Much," and "In Her Prime." Best title? "In Her Prime." Best song? At this point, I vote "Ze Newie." I sure hope they do something soon. Is This It? is an absolute classic.

what i learned today: never let your guard down


today was a quiet day at the office. everybody else was off at this big ol' meeting and, myself being the official low man on the totem pole, I was asked to hold down the fort. knowing that nobody else would be there, i made today my own personal casual day, wearing my sorta-ratty red plaid shirt, tucked into a pair of khaki pants to make it seem less ratty. [standard dress is a shirt and tie.]


so this, of course, becomes the day that the tv guys want to come and interview us about a promotion. being the only one there, i handle the interview. but let me tell you folks, i looked silly on tv. ratty plaid shirt...shoulda been a tie. gadzooks.


so the moral of the story: never let your guard down. same situation tomorrow: i'll again not be wearing a tie. it's team polo shirt day.


what kind of person actually cares that north texas beat cincinnati in the new orleans bowl. and what kind of person is actually upset because of it. the kind of person who put two bucks here. curses.

this post will perhaps reveal how lame I am. but i'll be strong and just let it out.

oftentimes, The Sports Guy, ESPN.com page 2 columnist, will make reference to how he reads and responds to every single email he gets. he's, i'd guess, an insanely popular columnist [he writes like a normal guy, as the name would indicate.] anyway, i've emailed him twice, never getting a response.

Gene Wojciechowski, another columnist for espn.com, is also pretty popular, i'd guess. he's funny, he makes interesting observations about college football. he never brags about his email-response capability. well, reading a comment he made in today's Big Man on Campus column--"At least Jill [Arrington] never had a Dick Enberg-Dick Jauron TV moment. And if you watched the NFL playoffs last season on CBS, you know what we mean."

This is, of course, a reference to Bonnie Bernstein's excellent utterance, after Dick Enberg [was it Dick Stockton?] tossed it down to her for her halftime interview with Dick Jauron: "Thanks Dick. Well Dick. Wow! Two Dicks!..." Anyway, I read this column this morning, and I noticed the immediate error: the Two Dicks comment actually came during the Bears-Jaguars game, on CBS. The playoff game was on Fox. I watched the Wow! Two Dicks comment at home. I watched the playoff game in Evanston. My memory is vivid.

Anyway, I called him, via email, on the error, and he very quickly responded. With skepticism [he's sure he's correct], but he responded. Warms the cockles of my heart. At least he responds.

In other news, I've designed a beautiful top ten records of 2002, but I've had trouble posting both it and this page. we'll hope for the best. full effort tomorrow, i promise.

apologies for missing a day. sometimes life just takes over, i guess.

thursday, at dalton's, keith, christina, christina's roomie andrea, myself joining them a bit later. it really is neat to be able to walk for 2 minutes and find a 'hangout,' no matter how lame that hangout might be. open mic night. solo acoustic st. ambrose kids. best performance: norwegian wood. second best performance: under the sea. most well received performance: glycerine. notably absent: female performers. i wanted to hear joni mitchell covers...oh well.

highlight of the night: guy gets pulled over. [dalton's is located at a corner lot.] guy pulled over is visible to the 6 booths along that window [including ours]. guy discusses situation with cops for a few minutes. he's eventually ticketed, presumably for driving drunk? perhaps speeding. guy accepts ticket. guy proceeds to enter dalton's. guy receives standing ovation. guy purchases pitchers for all six booths along the window. keith, christina, andrea and myself consume free pitcher. all is right in the world. guy explains that he was stopped for running a red light. lay off, copper, i say. guy takes the citation well: "it's just 30 bucks, and i get rock star parking." i appreciate guy's outlook on life. and his generosity. [postscript: as i left for work this morning, guy's car was still parked in the same spot.]

funny situation at work today. our assistant gm, josh, is a north dakota native. as a native of north dakota, he is part of one of the more interesting regional linguistic quirks i've encountered. he grew up pronouncing the 'ag' letter combination with a long 'a' sound [i believe a long sound] that is, he prounounces the word 'bag' [as well as 'magazine,' 'diagonal,' 'agriculture,' and most improbably, the proper name 'wagner'] with the same 'a' sound that is used for the word 'bank.' in my exposure, every section of the country, with the exception of the north dakota-minnesota [perhaps south dakota, or the upper penninsula?] region would prounounce that word with the same 'a' sound used for 'sack.' [it seems like an odd example, but read on!]

so this afternoon, this guy comes in to the office. 'i'm in from new york city for the day, i'm leaving in a few minutes, i'm wondering if you have any bobbleheads.' josh tries to pitch him on our season ticket perk, which requires $100 in tickets purchased, with the perk being a limited edition joe mauer bobblehead. guy settles for an $18 hat. he says he'll perhaps order the tickets/bobblehead on our webiste. josh, who's become self-conscious about what i consider to be his pronunciation quirk, says 'would you like a sack for that?' attitudinous ny guy says "you mean a bag?" i emit my loudest giggle of the week. wowzers.

think i'm a dork for writing at 1150 on a friday night? well, you're a dork for reading this. and i'm a dork for writing at 1150 on a friday night.

The update: my cream of potato soup grades as a C, on the scale where C is average [as opposed to, oh, say, B+]. I found a good, simple recipe: potatoes, carrots, celery, onion, chicken broth, salt, pepper, parsley, milk, butter. Only one problem, which greatly dragged down the quality of my meal: the recipe called for 3 cups of chicken broth, and the broth I had comes in 14 oz cans. Those of you who have basic knowledge of conversion factors will see the problem by now. I didn't. So I filled one cup, poured it into a container of some sort. Filled another cup and, just as I had feared, essentially emptied the first can. That is, 1 can=about 2 cups. This left me three options: I could go with two cups of chicken broth, or I could pour a third cup of broth [and save the rest of the can for use at a later date] or I could empty a second can. I chose option three. Probably should have chosen option one. Result? A less creamy cream of potato soup. But it happens, and perhaps I've learned my lesson.
Is this convoluted? Usually is.

I think a sad development in the mid-nineties was Victoria Williams moving to the forefront as alt-country (or americana, or no depression, or y'allternative...I prefer alt-country)'s answer to Yoko Ono. You see, as I recall, Mark Olson, one of two songwriters/harmonizers for the Jayhawks, left the band in the mid-nineties, leaving his partner, Gary Louris, to become the band's de facto front man, or at least primary, SOLO, songwriter. From what I've heard [which is the second album after the dissolution, Smile, which featured the mild radio hit "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me"], the new Jayhawks sort of suck. The old Jayhawks [Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow the Green Grass Jayhawks] were the anti-suck. In fact, they ruled.

So what does Victoria Williams have to do with this? Well, she's married to Mark Olson, and they've got this Honey Creekdippers [or something similar] band going. I've not heard them, so I shouldn't criticize. But I sure miss the old Jayhawks. Yoko!

As research for this uninformed rambling, I was just reading a few reviews at all music guide [a fine resource indeed], and somewhere it referred to the Jayhawks as friends of Wilco. I wonder if they're friends anymore. I doubt it. Seems Jeff Tweedy's too good for his friends. It happens.

it's bedtime...i was planning to go to sleep, but then i got to thinking about tomorrow's dinner [i've got a lot of time to think] and, having recently purchased one of those five pound bags of russet potatoes, i decided to look into cream of potato soup recipes. i'm blenderless, and the best-looking recipe required a blender. i dont think i'd be a very good human blender. i'll keep you posted.

while i was in the grocery store after work today, i made the compulsory walk down the magazine aisle to see if the new rolling stone had arrived; i've mentioned before: no matter how ridiculous, year-end issues of music magazines rule. i am, however, quite disappointed in rolling stone. perhaps wanting to avoid pulling a spin and naming the current puddle of mudd album record of the year [spin gave it to system of a down last year...], THEY DID NOT RANK THE ALBUMS. Instead, they listed, alphabetically, the 50 best of the year. Bulldung I say.

They did, however, put the Breeders and Interpol and Spoon on there. No Trail of Dead or Walkmen, however. Or GbV.

Listened to Pet Sounds this afternoon while driving to work and this evening while driving to the grocery store. I gotta say, its beauty is absolutely stunning. There's an obvious lyrical simplicity to most of the album, the concept being young love and its trials [save, of course, for "Sloop John B."] But the textures in the instrumentals are nothing short of stunning.


I don't know if a more beautiful song than "God Only Knows" has ever been written. There's a tenderness in that song that I don't think had ever appeared in music before, and I doubt its appeared since. [Perhaps The Beatles' "Something"? I don't think so.] And I'm no music critic, but there's something to the actual vocal delivery, a sweetness to it, the timbre, a sincerity. You can hear the perfection that Brian was striving for...it's right there---it's been achieved.


What's striking to me is that, in this album where a note's not missed, every vocal pitch, every vocal emotion is perfect, he's left a song like "Here Today" in there. [By the way, song-wise, it ranks probably behind only "God Only Knows" and "Caroline No" on the record.] It's a beautiful song, well-written, but I'm stunned that the talking in the background, the clear over-modulation of the vocal takes, and Brian's voice saying "top, please" were actually not corrected. It's sort of strange.


Simply stated, wow. There's not a song that doesn't resonate. Wow.


I'm sort of happy that Smile was never properly finished. I think Pet Sounds, while not the achievement of experimentalism that Smile was intended to be, is the perfect pop record. It's easy to understand why he cracked trying to record its follow-up.

received in the mail a few days ago a survey from, i believe, the university of georgia. the survey was sent to recent communications and journalism graduates, not to assess the quality of education that these students received, but instead to address the post-collegiate job availablility, which is, i guess, the purpose of college. and lemme tell you, if the question was quality of education, i'd say 'i didn't learn much' because i didn't. but medill being the alleged finest journalism school in the country--i believe broadcast is ranked second--jobs sort of appear. and medill alums, recent ones, are everywhere. amy rao and mike lowe at wlns in lansing--a fairly good-sized market. myself, getting a full season job before graduation. f-ler, with his short-season job lined up, due to persistence on his part and their comfort with an nu grad, i'd think. and today, i open sports illustrated, and in the section where they talk about a former cover man/woman, the story's written by andrea woo. understand, andrea woo graduated, i believe, two years ahead of me. and now she's doing si? bylined in the same issue as richard hoffer [the second best writer going] and the week after gary smith [the best writer going.] ?!? incredible. go cats, indeed.

other news: the bears are so bad, they're nearly unwatchable. and they're content to suck with their brittle, washed-up crappy quarterbacks instead of their young, athletic crappy quarterback. i say--go 3-13, and hope like hell the bengals go with carson palmer with the top pick, leaving the bears to get the new black jesus [earl monroe was the original] - byron leftwich.

warning: the following is a test to experiment with my undeveloped html skills.

It's album of the year time, and I'm torn. This is not unlike 1999, where The Soft Bulletin was perhaps the greatest artistic accomplishment of the year. But the best? I don't know. My favorite? I don't know. And I'm never sure if I'm supposed to rank my favorite, or the best. Probably my favorite, but a little of the best. Anyway, as I've said, I'm torn. My top four are pretty much set out above the rest, but I'm not sure what my favorite of those four is. Changes whenever I hear it. But, for now, I'll say that Kill the Moonlight earns the spot. I don't know what Heather Phares was thinking. That's why I always say, "A woman's place is the kitchen."

ive officially been a 9to5 stiff for about three months now, and i've not yet come to grips with the sunday night depression. sundays are so, so nice, and monday morning is so, so crappy. it's not that i dislike work--i don't--its just that realizing that i'm REQUIRED to do something after 48 hours of doing nothing is...whatever.
but that's where we stand. slow, quiet sundays [the best kind], and now an early trip to bed so that i'm fully charged for the week ahead. perhaps a bit of reading, a bit of music listening, and then i'm out.
on another note, my fantasy football team--top-seeded and all---laid an egg today. i find myself eliminated in the first round of the playoffs despite the top record in the league, the most points in the league, and a five-point home-field advantage [super rule], and its all because of those bastards jeff garcia and martin gramatica. it's also somewhat due to the complete lack of production of travis henry and tony gonzalez, and a poor decision to start james stewart over stephen davis. i got plenty of entertainment out of it, however. [this is not unlike the fantasy hoops debacle of 1998, when, after losing my first three weeks, i went undefeated for the duration of the season before getting ousted in the first round of the playoffs---ced ceballos had his only good week of his career. uf!] i find it incredible that, after fielding solid team after solid team for probably 10 fantasy football leagues, i've never won a dime. uf! i did, however, once win an ncaa tournament pool.
on another note, part 2: i'm learning dreamweaver...we might have a more exciting format by next weekend...after all, why watch football?

no trip to chicago this weekend. woohoo, or not, i'm not sure. this is, i believe, my fourth weekend here during non-baseball season since april. ridiculous. it was a quiet friday, which i always appreciate. quiet without 3 hours in the car is nice. it's already been a productive saturday. more christmas shopping---took books back to the library . a quiet one, and i've found myself without anything remotely witty to say. the timing of the streetlights on 53rd near the highway 61 [brady, northbound; 'welcome way [!] ' southbound] is atrocious, and the woman behind me was clearly frustrated. for my part, i was singing loudly and badly with the music, which happened to be guided by voices' self-inflicted aerial nostalgia. what a record---amazing that it went unappreciated for 7 or so years before seeing official release. to belt out 'LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, CONCLUSIVE, BASED ON FACT / LONG AGO IN THE MORNING, SHE LEFT, DID NOT COME BACK' with the windows down in near-freezing temperatures---well, you'd be amazed how theraputic/therapeutic [cathartic, we'll say] that could be. and tonight, drinking k-dubs beer. woof.

you may have read about my pal fred here before. fred's a super guy...on occassion, fred has kept me sane at work. a good guy. today fred broke all rules of male friendship. guys' night out. beer and wings. fred says he's bringing a girl. a girl whos 18 [fred's 25, i think.] this is a clear breach of etiquette. i arrive at 940 or so, order my pitcher, look like a lame-o with my pitcher and no one to share it. fred arrives, girl in tow. waitress asks fred and companion for id. 'i just want a pepsi,' companion says. waitress: 'you have to be 21 after 9.' c: 'i'm going to eat a meal. can't i stay if i eat?' [my note: companion clearly does NOT need an extra meal] w: 'have to be 21.' c: 'he [indicating fred] is my brother.' w: 'you need to have your parents if you want to stay.' c: 'i'll call my mom.' so she CALLS HER MOM. AND HER MOM COMES. so guys night out [keith had arrived by this point] becomes keith and me and fred and 18-year-old companion and 18-year-old companion's mom [apparently a regular] and 25-30-year-old straggler chick. [the latter two were at a different table, as were fred and companion for some of the time. keith and i made fun of fred. he's so oblivious.] and then she picks up fred's beer and wings, and not mine or keith's. as a wise man once wrote in instant messenger form, WTF !?!?!

cats were bad. very bad. tonight. sigh. and my tv does not properly receive espn2 [or abc, for that matter], which can be frustrating during programs aired on these two stations. perhaps i'll call the cable company. it's a thought, anyway.

i was reading music magazines at borders yesterday [i sure love year-end issues], or perhaps the day before, and i came across a few things that frustrated me. avril lavigne gloats about how she's great [by the way, she rules] because she sings and plays guitar. hey babe, i saw you on letterman [leno, maybe?], and i can assure you that you were not playing guitar. and i don't think i'd call your wallowing 'singing.' [michelle branch, also on the talk show circuit, can wail. baby got pipes.]. also, avril declared 'white blood cells' her favorite record of the year. great record, wrong year, baby. try july 2001, or something, when you were merely a twinkle in your producer and fashion designer's collective eye. [for the record, 'complicated' rules.]
also, some magazine ranked 'The beginning stages of..." by The Polyphonic Spree on its top 50 list, or whatever. Again, wrong year, baby. I have trouble calling this a 2002 release, when it was first distributed during holidays 2000, available when i saw them in may 2001, and certainly available when i ordered it later that summer. i guess it received 'official,' which means 'with jewel box and cover art as opposed to a sleeve with a hand-pasted, poorly rendered, photoshop printout of the band' release in 2002, but...
Isn't that sort of like putting the Hives, who released Veni Vedi Vicious in 2000, on the best of 2002 list? Is that wrong?
I don't know.

i don't watch much college basketball, at least when my cats aren't involved. i'm particularly disinterested in these preconference games, games that are in many ways meaningless. [by meaningless, i mean that a maryland win over indiana or vice versa won't keep either team out of the ncaa tournament---by meaningless, i mean that the good team's championship hopes can't be dashed by a poor outing in november or december (that's why I love college football as is---in no other sport is every game, every quarter, so monumentally important...the iowa hawkeyes have played well for 47 out of 48 quarters...they're out)] but this indiana-maryland game was tremendous. a made half court shot---just after the buzzer. some schlub making his 1-of-2 when he needed it. tom coverdale. packed fieldhouse. dickie v, who i find tolerable. [give me raftery, i say!] i've loved watching the development of jeff newton...i remember watching him as a skinny freshman with no game but a lot of heart. his game's about a third of the way there. coverdale proved that he's the top white senior point guard in the country, by a nose over steve blake. but what a fun, fun game.
no other news. i'll watch more buckets tomorrow. cats in their biggest game of the season. woof. winston. jitim. jb. aj. d-squared. j-male. tj. i love this roster. woof.

christmas shopping. generally, or at least sometimes, it means I get a gift for myself. That's not good, at least monetarily speaking. Perhaps good to entertain myself, however. I bought Joy Division's 'Closer.' I've been listening to/absorbing/meditating to/loving beyond loving the current Interpol album 'Turn on the Bright Lights.' Every comparision mentions Joy Division. Closer's their 'essential' one. I'll listen to it a bit later tonight, as I read before bed.
I've got about 60 pages left in On the Road. It's entertaining. But I've had it 5 weeks. Should be done by now. [I find myself getting absorbed in magazines and newspapers too frequently. Two straight weeks, I've acquired a Chicago Reader. I consume that thing. don't understand the magnetism, honestly] Next on the reading list: Harry Potter IV, followed by the baseball history book "Lords of the Realm."

Closing thought: How many people consider jumping down the trash chute, just to see what's there? How many have? Discuss.

long weekend. good, good weekend. note: I am, after 8+months of driving it, already at 10,000 miles on the car. note: I am the gas guzzling american. note: I do get better than 30 miles a gallon, without fail.

thankgiving night: big wej and sacks. grandpa's. super. plans to revisit death to smoochy were hatched. the boy will drive. weekend begins with guns a-blazin.
friday: sleep late...haven't done that in forever...and arise. watch local team aledo pull out the 2a state championship. head north, to michigan. unstadt family hanukah celebration. the chicken and latkes are superb. as is the salad. water is wonderful. family is super. we discuss myron cope, minor league baseball, and the four editions of the lord of the rings dvd release. dan as charlie chaplin is also discussed. unstadt and i head out on the town. four dollar cover at empty rick's american cafe. but the catching up needed to be done, and those pitchers [apparently priced according to how much the bartender/waitress likes the purchaser...i was more preferred than unstadt. woof] needed to be drank/drunk. hooked up with the nemo/carrie/jeff/josh/caleb the cherub/munro/megan crew. the latter four got in. we did not. returned to nemo's. made small talk. carrie left. i took dan home. i returned and found c on my reserved sleeping couch. madness ensued. more on that later.
saturday: here's the lowedown. nemo and i got a later than planned start. got to the mike lowe residence [quite nice, aside from the cell -like windows] i would guess around noon. time for a tour, a lunch at panera [mike got the soup and salad...i was jealous]. conversation sparkling. rich johnson, darren rovell, rick morris, local news. all interesting. after a brief detour [can I follow a car, dammit?] we went to the station. mike = stellar as we knew he would be. and still the same guy...he introduced us to the fellow newsroom folk as 'i just found these two guys at subway, and though they could help out a little.'
return to ann arbor. sleep a bit. gear up for the irish. eat impossible cheeseburger pie. superb [as good as advertised, in fact]. c calls. 'do you like that guy? [i made no impression, apparently] / [after clearing up, flash forward---] 'yeah, he's one of my better friends from northwestern' / 'good. because i liked him. he's kind of dorky, but dorky like us.' dorky like a nemo...consider me proud.
ping pong and trumpet with nemo and carrie and jeff and josh. mccain on snl. super evening.
sunday. breakfast at margie's. like cheeseburger pie, but in the morning, and better. [english muffins with cheese and egg and ham, for the record] driving. about 480 miles, or so. nemo provided company. jeff joniak provided inane radio. inane, in this case, means HORRIBLE.
and now i'm back, and now work begins tomorrow, and now the wixinator will not be there. i'm sad. because of the latter two. davenport is nice.