In Dreamland v4

i was off roading in my truck through a stream and i was supposed to veer to the right, but i didn't and ended up in deeper water. all of a sudden i was outside of my truck on a rock pondering how to get my truck out of the deeper water. out of nowhere i saw a lynx jump from the trees into what was a now a river. my truck wasn't in anymore than three feet of water but i was afraid the linx would drive it away. then when the lynx came out of the water i saw it looked more like a cross between a lynx and
meowth.

She's Kinky Like That

Daniel (To Ann-Marie as she's riding her wheel chair down the hall): Has anyone ever stuck a broomstick in your wheel as you're rolling?

Ann-Marie: Yeah, it's called 'foreplay.'

Overheard in the Advising Center hallway.

Now playing on the Launchcast: Joga by Bjork

In Dreamland v3.1

i needed to take a spanish placement exam for some reason. juan had inside information and told me what verb to focus on. he also clued me into the fact that there was a performance piece to the exam and that i needed to work on my Cha Cha.

i don't know how to do the Cha Cha.

In Dreamland v3

my left central incisor fell out. weird though was that it was screwed into my gums and the screw broke in half.

also falling out of my mouth was my tongue ring. which i don't have in waking life.

There's a scale, honey.

Jennifer: You graduated from NMSU? Why?

Yvette: He got his bachelor's there.

Jennifer: Do you still live there?

Daniel: No, I live in the Northeast now.

Jennifer: [Disapproving face] You're not even making progress.

Overheard at Yvette's desk.

Yeah, Let Me Check On That

Angel: I'll email it to you.

Daniel: Okay, but my email isn't working, they actually took my access away for the day.

Angel: Are you sure you work here?

Overheard in Angel's Office.

On the Yahoo! Launchcast: Blue Lines by Massive Attack

It's about time!

I got a new computer! A mac!
I got a new job! At UTEP!
I don't live in New Hampshire anymore! Or in a dorm!

Regular updates to come!

Plus more exclamation points!

On the iTunes: Kissing by Bliss

In Dreamland v2

south end of the dartmouth green.

regan fox is teaching me how to drive a back ho. a back ho.

there were lots of other dreams last night, only i don't remember them.

In Dreamland

my dreams don't have a recurring theme, per se. most often i can't scream.

or run.

but those things don't happen in every dream.

but they tend to happen the most.

Wicked Karma

This morning I decided that I wanted an iced coffee. I had one on Saturday, it was yummy. After I drank that bevarage I did two loads of laundry and scrubbed the tub! I figured - why not give it a shot during a work day - maybe I'd be super productive and my boss would be impressed!!

So. I went to the bank. The post office. The Dirt Cowboy. I ordered a large iced mocha latte and a ham and cheese croissant (the same magical order from Saturday). I came home and Wilson said, "I wish you wouldn't support the Dirt Cowboy. The manager doesn't let them have the tips in the tip jar."

My only response, as I was chugging my drink was "Well then it's a good thing I don't tip!"

Here's where the instant karma kicked my butt - the croissant was gross and after I finished the coffee, I got a stomach ache and took a nap.

I want my $7 back.

At Least They Kept it Out of the Showers

Daniel: Are you 4 rooming together?

Two freshmen, pointing at each other: No, we're together.

Freshman, standing behind them: We know you're together - you've been screaming it all year.

Overheard in the queue line at room draw.

The Incredible Puke-able Egg

So. Last time we were together I talked about losing weight. And how my quest to fit in my pants again had begun. The gauntlet had been thrown, as they say. I don't know who says things like that, or what a gauntlet even really looks like, but with these things we just roll.

So, I'm trying to lose weight. I've been eating in a more patterned matter (an actual breakfast meal, not the Michelle Andrews Diet Coke Breakfast of Champions) a solid lunch and a good dinner - with maybe a snack somewhere in between. I figure, you know, why not regulate the metabolism?

Well, while my mind thought that, my body, felt that it needed to take more drastic measures this morning: I woke up - jolly as could be, for it was 6:00 a.m. and the sun was shining. Okay, maybe not shining, but I could tell it was rising which is unusual as there are typically clouds blocking any sort of sunlight. I took my shower, got dressed and felt the need to eat a hard boiled egg. Mmm-mmm that sounded yummy to me. So I made two. And two slices of toast with grape jelly. I was set. I boiled the eggs. I toasted the toast. I peeled the eggs. I jellied the toast. I ate one egg. I ate one slice of toast. I started in on egg two. My stomach piped in and said "Maybe not ..." My brain shouted "Eat it!! It's yummy!!"

Stomach: I wouldn't go there if I were you.

Head: Shut it stomach, it's scrumptuous and healthy!

Stomach: All right bitch don't say I didn't warn you.

Head: Whatcha gonna do? Huh?! Huh?!

Daniel: Oh fuck, I'm gonna puke.

Yeah. So I puked it all up. It was beautiful. And by beautiful, I mean gross. And a little painful, I must say. I haven't puked sober in a long time. I haven't puked food in a long time. 1993 to be exact. I puked drunk last summer, but that's always pretty. And relieving. Now granted, once I got all the grossness out of my system, I felt a helluva lot better, but it was not a good thing in the process. Nothing had been digested further than me chewing, so it all came back up the way it went down. Which was a very interesting lesson in biology, but really not one I cared to A) learn in that way or B) at that time.

So - anyway, apparently my body had enough of the eggs. As a precaution, though, we threw all the eggs out and bought new ones. I feel better about that, but it'll be a while until I eat another egg. (I'm chosing to blame the eggs because there's no way in hell I'm giving up toast.) Or maybe this was a way of my body trying to figure out its own way to lose the weight - which, P.S. was totally off base because in the process of recovering, I ate 1/2 a box of saltines.

So suck on that!

Opposition of Fleshy Parts

It happened folks. After dinner the other night, while sitting in the most comfortable chair in the world. I sighed the sigh of a man who ate the absolute best combination of chicken pot pie, ice cream and coke and then, without the aid of conscious thought ... I unbuttoned my pants.

The feeling! I was relieved! I could breathe! Sit comfortably!

And now I must lose at least 5 pounds. Now, here's the deal. I must lose the weight. Why? Why conform to a society so critical in its judgment of physical appearance? Why not love me for me?

Why?

Because I can't afford it. I can't afford new pants. That's like ... at least 10 pairs of pants! And it's summer season so that's pants and shorts!!

Plus I miss being able to bend over and ...

tie my shoes. There's just too much flesh in opposition of itself and it has got to go.

So, stay tuned. I'm losing weight.

My Super Sweet Slut-Teen

Waaaaaaaaaaay back in December I started writing this:

So. The very first time I saw MTV's "My Super Sweet Sixteen" I thought - "WTF?" Then I thought, "When's the next episode?!" Then I thought, "Are these chippies for real?" Then I thought, "I can't believe I just spent my Saturday afternoon watching this. For shame." You know, the classic "car crash" emotions. Shock. Intrigue. Disgust and ultimately guilt for taking pleasure in something that is so tragically devastating to someone else.

You see, I've been working on college campuses for upwards of eight years now and for the longest time I've always wondered what happens to young women when they get on campus and into fraternity parties. Why do they lower themselves to such submissive behavior? Why do they allow the boys on campus to take advantage of them, manipulate them and both literally and figuratively, rape them? Then it finally dawned on me - these super sweet sixteen girls - these controlling, daddy's little girl, power mongering, credit card swiping, I'm the queen of my party, my school, my town girls - are simply trying to replace the power they (w)horded while in high school. Their "status" means nothing on male dominated campuses. No one cares that Ciara played your sweet sixteen party or that you handed out silver coined invitations or that you made three guys dance poolside as you and your three girlfriends decided whether or not they were worthy to attend the magical event.

And when they realize that no one cares about that, it makes it that much easier to make out with the next "hot" girl and subsequently get approval from the men cheering them on.

...

Apparently, sometime between now and then, January and February happened. I've obviously lost the fervor with which I was writing that post ... some valid points were made, but for the life of me, I can't remember what my point was going to be.

Daddy, don't let your daughters grow up to be frat whores. I'll leave it at that.

I'm Bringing Sexy Back ... in 5-7 Days

I have pink eye. I need a haircut. I just ate my own weight in Christmas Eve cheese and crackers and chex mix and macaroni and cheese and hot dogs and green beans. Needless to say, I'm not the sexy beast I once was.

But who cares because it's Christmas Eve!! This will be short post because it's almost time for bed and Santa will be making his way to Wilson's Mom's house (where we're spending the holiday) and I've already been naughty enough this year, I don't need to push my luck by staying up late.

Blessings to all, and to all a good night!!

Miracle on 30-poopth St.

So this morning I woke up in a foul mood. I don't know why, I was just a bitter little man this morning. Nothing suited me - I was like Goldilocks - I wasn't happy with my toothbrush, the water just wouldn't get warm enough in the shower and even though I looked hott, I just didn't like what I was wearing. Wah, right? It's all about perspective, really ...

So I was walking to work and as I turned the corner at Baker Library I saw a huge dog taking a dump on the lawn. Its owner was standing nearby, waiting patiently holding on to the leash. I thought, "Great, what a fan-fucking-tastic morning!" But then something miraculous happened. Something I was not prepared for - visually or emotionally. The woman pulled out of her pocket ... wait for it ... a plastic bag! And she scooped up her pooch's poop! And then threw the little baggie in the trash!

It was a Festivus Miracle!

Let me tell you, if you're ever in a bad mood, watching someone pick up dog shit, might just do the trick. Trust me.

A Yule Blog

Oh ho ho ho ho ho, I ate so much pot roast for dinner.

So, let me tell you how bitched up I am about shopping at the mall. Civilization has deteriorated (and yes, I had to spell check that word) into a completely self-absorbed capitalistic power shopper and it is no wonder that Time magazine had to name "you" as a computer aided being Person of the Year and not the "You" that stood in line at Gap whilst her 3 year old screamed at the top of her lungs.

Seriously, though, it is no wonder I shop online these days. Our society ills me. I do have to say, though, that the people working the registers at Victoria's Secret were fun. They were trying to sell this lip enhancer thing at the counter and I picked it up and looked at it with my queer eye (and in this case, queer refers to the "odd" definition and not the "homo" one) and the woman goes, "I know ... like I need my lips any bigger" and then she puffed them out. Then I replied, "would it be the same thing as if I ate a banana, I'm allergic to those and swell up." She laughed.

Okay, so not the most witty of repartee, but amusing nonetheless.

So, Christmas is here, and I for one, am reclaiming my "Christianity" and greeting people with Merry Christmas (should the occasion warrant a holiday greeting). I'm done with Happy Holidays and Chrismahannakwanzakuh and being politically correct. In honor of a) my identity and b) separation of church and state (and hence any politically correct brainwashing) I'm saying Merry Christmas.

So Merry Christmas. Bitches.

Looking Good Costs Time and Money

I went shopping yesterday! I bought me all kinds of nice shirts and sweaters so I can look good for approximately one week and then not want to do laundry which will result in me inevitably wearing the same OLD clothes I used to have that made me want to buy the new clothes in the first place.

Why do I insist on buying dry clean only sweaters? Dry cleaning is expensive! More expensive than the sweaters! Well, not at first, but it eventually is. I guess technically though everything is. For some reason though, the dry cleaning part seems more expensive to me. Aside from the extra monetary commitment that is required, you have to do it within certain times. I mean, the laundry room is open 24 hours a day. There are even 24 hour Laundromats in case I feel like taking my clothes for a ride! But there aren't 24 hour dry cleaning places. I would gladly exchange 1 hour dry cleaners for a 24 hour dry cleaner any day. I mean an "open 24 hours a day dry cleaner." In the context of the 1 hour dry cleaner it sounded like I was talking about a dry cleaner that took 24 hours to clean your clothes. Which I was not.

Anyway, the extra time it takes to dry clean clothes is the point I'm trying to make. I guess I need to just get off my butt instead of whining about it. Like instead of writing this blog I could be taking my clothes to the dry cleaner ... oh wait, it's Sunday.

Brian Likes His Cake

Christy: You got invited? All they told me was 'Don't eat the cake.' (To Brian after Brian revealed he was invited to a retirement part at Christy's office)

Overheard at staff meeting.

Marzipan is Such a Great Influence

Zach: That's disgusting. And I don't like your outfit. (To Rachel in reference to her wanting to dip her pickles in her au jous)

Overheard at Quizno's.