Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Scott We Need You Home This Summer



ps
that del.icio.us thing is friggin sweet everyone use it please please please

R.E.M.+Modest Mouse+The National=I'm getting a passport, like, yesterday

Vancouver BC is supposta be a pretty city, right? We'd be gone one night tops. C'mon kids. Do it for me. And yourselves, obv.

Monday, January 28, 2008

because links are awesome.


hey all, you know this blog's tagline? i got to thinking that we’re not doing nearly enough to provide for those of us who really do engage in that avoidance of work we advertise. so like, whaddya all think about a shared del.icio.us account where one can go when looking for new ways to procrastinate? yeah? maybe? you don’t even have to make any blog posts and no one’ll ever know it was you who posted that link about how to be a fairy princess (i think we’d all know it was doug, though). anyway, i know i sure as hell don’t run into nearly enough random things on the internet… (and i’m always looking for an excuse to not go to class!)


the username is mmmgravy and the password’s that wonderful high school motto i’m sure all of you live by. in the latin, no spaces, followed by the last two numbers of our graduation year. you’ll figure it out. (hey, and there’s also this button you can put on your toolbar for linking on the fly if you get really into it.)

so link away, kids, link away!

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Virtual Dance Club

Yes, I realize this sounds stupendously dorky, but here is how it goes: everyone plays the same song at the same time, and everybody dances to it. Sometimes you just gotta dance, and this is slightly less lame than doing it alone. Anyway, anybody who wants to be in on the action, just tell me, and we'll make sure you're notified of the next event. So far its Magda and me, but Cynda and Ben have been known to be apart of the Virtual Dancing Extravaganza as well.

PS: Yes Pat, I've thought about it. Tasty!

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Flight from Salem Town

Arren walked briskly through the streets of Salem Town, her daughter practically running to keep from falling as she was drug along. Arren glanced fearfully in each direction before continuing past the stables, her black hood fell backwards as she did so allowing the moonlight to radiate off her platinum blonde hair. She quickly pulled up her hood and continued on.

“Mamá, mamá, where are we going?” Her young daughter asked.

“Shush Kali. Please. We do not want attention this night.” John had promised to meet them at the cemetery. Could she trust him? Could she trust anyone after what had happened? An owl hooted overhead, her daughter looked up to see if it was one she knew.

“Mamá—”

“Not now Kali. He will warn us if something is wrong, but we cannot spare a moment of time. Hurry,” she whispered frantically searching through the darkness for any sight of a person. She saw none.

They reached the cemetery after twenty minutes. Arren strode through the cemetery, glanced over at her daughter, and then traced a falling shadow up into the sky and spotted the owl once again. She shook her head. John must come, it was their last chance. At that moment a loud crack broke the silence. She swung around and reached for her pocket.

“Do not pull it out Arren! It is too risky, I may have just doomed myself by making such an entrance,” a man in a ragged suit and red sweater said, dusting himself off.

“Uncle John!” Kali shouted as she dashed from across the cemetery.

“Kali! Be silent! They will hear us,” Arren remarked in a raised whisper. The owl overhead hooted and then settled on a branch of a nearby oak tree.

“Hello Kali, it is good to see you, but listen to your mother. Now is not a time for such reunions, although we must relish the few precious moments we have left.”

Arren glanced up at the owl, it hooted back. “We don’t have much time John. Is it true? Rebecca? Martha? Even little Dorothy?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all true,” John replied as Arren muffled a gasp. “Elizabeth was just accused yesterday, I do not know what we are going to do.”

“Do what we have done. Charm them, run away.”

“We will not run. Most of the accusations are completely fictitious.”

The owl overhead hooted twice and then took flight. “They are coming. Please John, come with us.”

“You know I cannot,” John replied remorsefully.

“Then I wish you well John.”

“And I, you.” He bowed, and with that there was another loud crack and he disappeared.

“Come Kali, we must hurry.” She took her daughter by the wrist and dove behind a large headstone. She pulled a short wooden instrument from her pocket, seven small charms hung from one end. She muttered something incomprehensible and tapped the headstone as sounds of dogs barking reached them. A split second later, Arren and her daughter vanished.

The Trouble With Orcas

Just when I thought Marcus couldn’t come up with any more crazy ideas, he did. “Let’s go to San Diego!” He shouted out after we had finished watching some really bad Sci-fi movie. “Come on, it’ll be great! Have you ever been to San Diego before?”

Karen and I looked at each other and then back at Marcus, “Yes,” we both said in unison.

“Well I haven’t,” retorted Marcus, “so let’s go!” He sat there like a five year old child, legs crossed and bouncing on the couch. Karen and I simply looked at each other and sighed.

Two weeks later we were unpacking our luggage from Karen’s 1992 Ford Taurus in San Diego. We checked into the Best Western and headed off to Sea World, our first big adventure in San Diego. It wasn’t too long into the trip that Marcus began begging us to go with him to the Orca tank that housed the Killer Whale, Shampoo. Shampoo, unlike his “aunt” Shamoo, was part of a temporary exhibit that would soon move to Iceland. Because of this reason we made Shampoo’s over-crowded exhibit our first priority. The sublevel for under-water viewing was too crowded to actually see anything so Karen, Marcus and I went up to the viewing area along the edge of the tank. The trainers were out, and throwing fish to Shampoo.

“Jesse,” Marcus said to me, “go stand over there next to the fish guy so I can get your picture.” I looked at him skeptically. “Go on, it’s fine.” I glanced to my right where a small rope was dangling from two posts.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to cross the rope.” I said somewhat nervously.

“Oh stop being a pussy Jesse and let’s get a good picture for your facebook.”

I sighed and slowly stepped over the rope and walked up behind the trainer throwing fish to Shampoo. I stopped and turned around so Marcus could take the picture. “No no, keep going.” Marcus said and motioned for me to move closer to the trainer. I sighed again and took a few steps backwards, bumping into the trainer.

The trainer had not realized anyone was near him, so when I bumped into him accidentally he quickly stood, but having very little room to stand he slipped and fell into the Orca tank.

And that’s when everything started blurring together. A giant set of sharp teeth emerged from the tank followed by a black and white monster. Marcus dropped the camera and Karen let out an ear piercing scream. I spun around just in time for the trainer’s blood to splatter all over me.



“And that was the last thing I remember before waking up with paramedics kneeling over me,” I said to Bob. “What’s your story?”

“I shot my ex-wife in the face.” Bob responded emotionlessly as he pulled off his orange prison uniform and stretched out on the cell’s only cot.

“I’ll just take the floor then….” I muttered. Bob snorted.