Kids,

I was excited about the John Edwards press conference today. Not looking forward to him dropping out, but excited to hear what had to be said and neurotically move on with this fantasy football game of primaries. When I heard about it, I had a date. Noon. Don't be late.

So here I am at work. Ten minutes prior I turn on the NPR webcast. They had live coverage of it. Someone there in the room looking at an empty podium.

So, just as things are about to start they cut to a very important announcement. Yes, it is that time for their quarterly beg-a-thon.

I love NPR because they have up to the minute coverage of breaking news.

They have coverage of what you think is important.

If you got this news elsewhere you would have to wait until tomorrow for the newspaper.

This is what they told me. Convincing me that my dollars are important to ensure that I don't miss anything. All the while missing the only news item I cared about that day.

This is irony. Slaves groveling at your feet and licking your boot is great, accept when you are trying to walk somewhere. And you, NPR, are in my way.



The good news is the UN secretary general was having a news conference in Iraq when it was hit by a mortar. No one is hurt, but the building shook and it is on tape. How awesome is that?

Awesome,

It pays to know people who know other people. It makes up for what ever social deficiency one might have. One, in this case, refers to me, who has the social grace of an elephant on roller skates doing blow off a gazelle's ass. It is all a metaphor that works astonishingly well. Go on, be astonished.

But we found a new place to live. We will be on Ashland between Bird and Potomac. Our landlords are super awesome. They called us to ask if we wanted new carpet or new windows. Crazy madmen, being so nice.

The nice thing about renting from humans and not some faceless slumlord company is that are reasonable people. For the same rent we are moving from a 1 bedroom to a 3 bedroom with parking and a yard. A yard for the Ben! He will also have puppy friends to play with. Super +1 happy! So life has returned to goodness and honey.


Thanks to MPT for the kick ass party last night. I will do my best to not be jealous of your dream house. A home who's splendors rival all others.

happy hangover everyone.

-James

Ya know,

How hard is it to find an apartment that allows dogs? Before you struggle to speak the obvious answer to my question allow me to lecture for a moment on this topic. I like to pontificate, it pleases my mother as it is the closest I will ever get to being a priest.

It is damn hard. Damn, damnably, damn hard. Harder than a closet case in a high school locker room. I understand it is a hassle. Dogs bark, poop, and their owners puppy talk and poop (though where they are supposed to usually) and it is just a mess requiring hosing and a strong stomach.

But then, most places wont allow dogs but they will allow smokers who can stain walls faster than a gin soaked hobo. They will allow gamers who will mound up roach filled bags of cheetos while in the middle of a very important world of warcraft raid. They will allow people with no taste to paint. I swear, there are dozens of shades of red people paint their walls and only two don't resemble the shade of a hookers lips (you decide which set).

Then, their is the weight limit. Many places have a 20lb weight limit. And really, at that unsubstantial point don't you just have a fat cat too dumb to use a litter box?

Now, our dog is big. 110lb. But you will not find a lazier dog. Worried about your wainscoting from being chewed up? Not to worry, our dog is passed out from his exhausting crotch licking session this morning. He is sleeping it off. Little dogs can be vicious little bastards. They can be because it is tough for them to kill their master. Big dogs could eat your face if they wanted to. But those were weeded out of the gene pool pretty fast. It is called domestication. You land lords should look it up. It is the same thing that gives us eggs, milk, and fois gras.

All I am asking, cosmos, dear reader, is to find an apartment that will accept a dog who wont do anything and owners who will do everything. Ya know, responsible people who have an eye for that certain shade of red.

see you all tomorrow,

-James

I have an irrational fear of drag queens.

They scare the shit out of me.

I can talk to them one on one. That is fine.

But put them on a stage, or have multiple drag queens in a single room and I begin to have escapist fantasies. A shrink to the size of a pea nut and fall into someones drink, they carry me off in their bladder. Uncle Louie sticks his head out of the toilet and shows me how to flush myself out of there (extra points to those who get the reference.)

I work with some really cool people at the health food store. I love them all. But this friday I am invited to a drag king show.

I don't have much experience with drag kings. They usually just look silly. Not scary like a drag queen, but reminiscent of scary. Like seeing a grizzly bear stuffed and mounted on a wall.

not sure what I am going to say, but one thing is for sure, I most likely will not see someone perform "I'm Every Woman" for a change.

It is very difficult to blog about something meanigful while playing world of warcraft.

Oh shit! A Tauren just ganked me!

and while I was writing that, an Orc actualy was doing the ganking... I got what I deserved

While ((e:Jim)) is ranting about the serial rape and dismemberment of the English language, I thought I would share an experience from atop the ivory tower of academia... not Saurumon's ivory tower.

Tonight I went to orientation for new grad. students at Buff. State. The director of financial aid was giving his little spiel and said. "Your PIN number is like an ATM machine PIN number."

Let me rewrite that without the acronyms. "Your Personal Identification Number number is like an Automated Teller Machine machine Personal Identification Number number." Notice anything intrepid reader? If you didn't get it turn to page 34 where you are locked in the basement of your dirty uncle. If you did, congratulations, you realized this guy has just committed a crime which is the linguistic equivalent of premeditated murder.

Also note how saying one PIN 'number' is like a different PIN 'number' fails to illustrate what the hell he is talking about. "You see, your junior whopper bacon cheese burger is much like the junior whopper bacon cheese burger. Are you with me class?"

In short, remember that our language is the raw material used by Blake, Williams, and Creeley. Don't fuck up daddies saw horse pumpkin.

My favorite restaurant in Buffalo is closing

My favorite bartender in my favorite restaurant in Buffalo has left.

Laurie Sweet you will be stalked! We are following you to your new job!

Le Metro, you will be missed, but not nearly as much as Laurie.

Buffalo, is not full of celebrities. This should not be shocking news. However, a sea of minor celebrities are creeping about in plain cloths all round us in each and every city.

I was upset when I lived in Albany and never met lang. poet extraordinaire [link="http://ronsilliman.blogspot.com/"] Ron Silliman[/link]

A few months after moving to Buffalo my then favorite poet alive, [link="http://epc.buffalo.edu/authors/creeley/"] Robert Creeley[/link], passed away.

Disappointment abounds.

But then the other day I had my first minor celebrity encounter.

While at work a woman needed to order something. When she handed me back the order form the name looked very familiar. A few days later my manager mentioned, while unpacking a delivery, that this particular case of cranberry juice was for Leslie Feinberg, the woman I helped. It was then the name rang a bell. It was [link="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/156341029X/102-3320292-0107335?v=glance&n=283155"] this[/link] Leslie Feinberg. And that was no woman! That she was a hir.

So, while I hitting lower and lower on my list of boyhood fantasy encounters, at least the disappointment is becoming slightly more mild.

have a good weekend kids

oh you!

Ya know, you Buffalonians have some pretty crummy weather. I mean, it isn't all that bad, but it is not exactly warm year round and humidity free.
So, this guy comes into my store and talks about the lovely weather (it was that day with the record high a few days ago) and he starts telling me about how wrong the world is about Buffalo. How we have the best weather in the country.

excuse me?

I know, I know. Winter is coming and we need to keep our spirits up lest we carve up our neighbors like a stranded rugby player. But now, in the maw of winter, is not the time to try to pull one over on me.

All you Buffalonians know I am not a native

All you Buffalonians are trying to get me to stay.

Stay! Stay!

You just want to eat me when we are snowed in! I am on to you. Oh, you may eventually get my meat, but not without a fight. HAVE AT YOU!

Let me preface this by saying I am not a Harry Potter fan. I have nothing against the books now that I am not working in a book store (I once refused to call him by name and referred to him angrily as Henry Porter). There have always been better things to read, places I would rather venture in literature and so forth. Now, let me get on with it.

I just came back from watching the 4th movie in an Imax theater. I noted that my jokes surrounding the universe and the movie were very sexual in nature. Harry and Ron needed to get it on. Hermeine and Harry needed to get it on. Harry and Cedrick needed to get it on. Dumbldoor and everyone needed to get an A, and thus get it on. When I realized this, I began to wonder, why?

Could it be that my bizarre interest in the horrors of fanfiction (never read the stuff, just read the synopsis) informs my sick, latent desire to see perfectly platonic characters do the most out of charecter things to each other?

Or maybe three characters who are going through puberty with perfect skin and stylish, shaggy haircuts must have a torrent of raging sexual energy hiding behind those wands.

Or maybe, we are all pedophiles.

What ever it is that is doing it, Robocop could have used. Just imagine the depraved lust he and the T-1000 could have had!