Ryan Reynolds makes me weep for humanity.

Today has been a pretty good day so far. First of all, I woke up before noon, which is always a plus. In fact, I woke up around 8:30, which is insanely early. Hey, that's almost "working man" wake-up time.

I talked to my mom on the phone. I have this thing where whenever I get upset about something, I call my mom. She can't help me with anything, and most of the time we just get angry at each other and eventually start yelling. Of course, that happened today, but we made up quickly and she made me feel better. She told me that she wasn't ready for me to give up yet, and that was a good thing to hear.

Then she said she would try to send me some gift certificates to Arby's. She knows how to motivate me.

Also, I posted another resume on Craigslist last night and today I got two phone calls and an email in response to it. I have at least one interview on Monday with another staffing agency. The woman who called told me they usually get a couple copy writing positions a month, so it actually looks a little bit promising.

This weekend is Laurie's last in Chicago. I hope we do something fun...and thrifty.

I'm watching MTV right now. I feel like my life is a lot like Making the Band 3; I can really relate to those girls.

Finally, why do people keep making movies like this shit?

I'm still eight years old.

I just watched The Company, Robert Altman's dance movie with Neve Campbell. It's a great movie; I've seen it a few times before. Also, Robert Altman is probably my favorite director. He's just great.

But, okay, here's my problem.

Will there reach a time in my life where I won't always focus my attention on dancers' crotches? Seriously, does anyone else have this problem? It's not a sexual thing. I just can't avert my eyes.

I'm sure by the end of the night I'll have wished I kept this to myself.

Look! I know enough HTML to write links to other pages!

Channel 102 has finally updated. I'm really saw, however, that I'll have to wait a few more months before I see the next batch of shows.

I'm sad that Shutterbugs ended, but the finale was probably the funniest episode. I'll miss Cody Austin, though.

I don't think any new episode of Teen Homicide will be able to live up to the first one, although this month's has a good rape kit joke. I expect it to be in the top five for a few more episodes. I'll just say I wouldn't want to get into a street fight with that Jess Lane girl.

Speaking of street fights! The Block looks promising, possibly because I'm still bitter that The Fun Squad was cancelled.

Finally, The Widower is the best show on Channel 102 right now. I absolutely love it (well, except for the beatnik narrator). Also, I should mention that I also own a copy of Star Wars Monopoly. I don't know why, I don't even like Star Wars or Monopoly, but I think at the time I thought it would be a good investment. Plus, instead of houses and hotels, you place space cruisers on your properties. GENIUS.

In other news, Laurie and I went to see the Shout Out Louds last night in Wicker Park. Here are some highlights:

1. The lead singer of the Shout Out Louds looked like Jason Schwartzman but with George Michael's stubbly beard.

2. I heard these girls behind me talking about a hot coworker.
Girl: "Do you ever notice how good he smells?"
Other Girl: "Are you kidding me? I smell him in my DREAMS!"

3. One of the openers was the Essex Green. They kind of sucked. They had a flute and a ukelele.

4. During the encore, the Shout Out Louds called up the Essex Green to perform a cover of The Pogues' "Streams of Whiskey" (although I thought the lead singer said they were doing a "Poach" cover). During the song, they pulled up this bleach-blonde girl from the audience who starting doing an Irish jig. Then she tripped on a microphone stand and fell backward onto the fiddler. Fantastic.

5. This guy behind me was dancing all crazy-like to the Shout Out Louds. In between sets, people starting yelling out how much they loved Sweden, and the guy behind me said, "I LOVE YOUR COUNTRY AND YOUR FISH!" Then he said to me, "Oh, was that racist?"

Busch Light is the new PBR.

Overheard in the coat-check line after the Shout Out Louds show:

Guy: "Oh man! That show was amazing! A-maz-ing! Seriously, best show ever. That was THE BEST. SHOW. I'VE EVER. SEEN!"

Girl: "Really? I mean it was awesome, but no offence, it wasn't the best I've seen. Maybe top four, but definitely not number one. That was Warped Tour '01."

I dreamt I was in an issue of Us Weekly.

I dedicate this post to my friend Christina, who is the only person who will read this and get it.

Yesterday I looked at web pages of random UCB theater actors, so naturally I had a crazy ass dream about them.

I was at the UCB theater for the Del Close Comedy Marathon. For some reason I was already in New York and was supposed to go home but randomly stumbled into the theater. Whatever, not important.

Anyway, the first show I saw involved four male actors; the only two I remember where Michael Ian Black and Rob Riggle. [I just fixed this. Spellcheck changed his name to "Rob regale." Sorry about that.] The four men pranced around on stage yelling, "Cock!" while wearing shiny gold speedos. Comic gold! Three of them left, leaving Michael Ian Black on stage. He removed his speedo and began to read children's books. In the nude.

Some people in front left during the show (I can't imagine why), so I crept up there to get a seat. After Michael Ian Black finished, the next show started to set up. Who was the director? Why, George Carlin of course.

Now, I have absolutely no opinion on George Carlin. I never watch his shows, but I'm sure he was in my dream because I saw another commercial for his 8935th stand-up comedy hour on HBO. Whatever.

So while his show is setting up, he comes to the front row and sits in the seat next to mine. And kind of starts to crowd up my seat, so that I'm pushed into the woman next to me. He starts to yell out orders to the stage, and when he catches me looking at him uncomfortably, he goes, "Eh, what's the mattah? You're a little guy, you don't need much room!" Hey, what a surprise, I think, George Carlin is an asshole in real life! I start to pull out my phone to check the time, and he yells at me again. "Don't be an asshole, turn your fuckin' phone off!"

So I sit uncomfortably, waiting for his show to start, and a weird selection of celebrities start walking by us and saying hello to George Carlin. Kevin Kline and Pheobe Cates. Liam Neeson. Michael York, dressed as a Revolutionary War general (maybe he came straight from a shoot?). Then Richard Lewis comes by, sees me getting squashed by Carlin as he talks to famous people, and his comes over to me, mimicking the fake hellos and hand shakes Carlin receives. (How strange is it that Richard Lewis is in my dream, and he's actually kind of funny?)

So then the show finally starts. I'll describe it as modern dance, with puppets. Basically, it was like I was watching Julie Taymor's version of Fiddler on the Roof. And it went on foreeevvveeerrr. Of course, the woman next to me starts asking, "Who directed this?" and I try to whisper the answer to her, but George Carlin hears me and punches me. It's like I'm in fifth grade again and George Carlin is my teacher.

When the show ends, Carlin jumps on stage and bows to the crowd, who is giving him a standing ovation. He starts giving a speech about "his vision," and all I think is, "Jesus Christ, when am I going to see Amy Poehler already?"

Roommate shopping.

My roommate Laurie is moving out of our house because she hasn't found a job and her parents won't send her anymore money for rent (fuck the real world). She has posted an ad on Craiglist for our house, and so far I've met three prospective roommates.

1. Martine.
Martine was actually cool, but she decided to live somewhere else. Of course the best one had to come first and every other person who comes by kind of sucks.

2. Patrick.
Patrick comes from Snoozerville. Or Cincinatti. Either way, he had no personality. Here's what we know about him: He has a job here in marketing, he owns a pool table, and he "did jazz dance in college." The last bit of information was obtained when he asked me and Janna what we did. Janna told him she danced and suddenly he showed some emotion, telling us about his dance history. That was limited to "jazz dance in college." I don't know; I feel that if the only dancing you did was jazz dance, and it was just in college (meaning he took one class as an elective because it would be an easy A), you probably shouldn't brag about it in the way that sounds like you dance dance dance!! I cannot imagine how weird it would be for that guy to live in my house. I bet he doesn't watch Gilmore Girls.

3. John.
John wrote Laurie an email saying that he was a computer science major "who was not a geek." Which means that he is a geek. He came by today; I shook his hand and that was probably the only interaction I had with him.

Is it bad to want a roommate I can actually seeing myself hanging out with? I don't know, I just don't want someone living here whom I cannot have a conversation with. I think I'm pretty outgoing, but I think it's really limited to a certain type of people. Maybe that comes off as snobby, but I can pretty much tell in five seconds when I'll be able to have a conversation with someone.

It's also weird to think that I'll be living with someone I don't know in about a month. That hasn't happened since sophomore year of college, when I lived with the asian version of Norman Bates. If I had the time, I could commit an entire blog site just for stories dealing with my sophomore year roommate. Here are some highlights.

1. He wore Dove deodorant. Dove deodorant is for women who have dry skin under their arms from shaving. As far as I could tell, he did not shave his armpits.

2. He used baby wipes. I swear to God.

3. On the first day of class, I woke up at seven in the morning because he was blasting - blasting - "My Heart Will Go On" on his computer.

4. He bought a keyboard one day, out of the blue, specifically because he wanted to learn to play "My Heart Will Go On".

5. He used to spy on our neighbors' conversations. He literally stood outside of dorm room doors, listening to the conversation. That's not all. Sometimes he would ask our neighbors to explain what they were talking about.

6. He spent seventy dollars on a brand-new Human Sexuality textbook from the university bookstore. He wasn't taking the class, he was just curious. When asked why he didn't just buy a cheap sex book from Barnes and Noble, he replied, "I didn't want people to think I was weird!"

7. He owned a copy of the Marquis de Sade's collected works, which he read in the bathroom.

8. He told the hall director that he shouldn't be allowed to own golf clubs in the dorm since they could be used as weapons.

9. He told a female friend of mine who was suckered into hanging out with him once that he almost touched her breasts, but decided not to.

10. He told me that my father reminded him of Randy Quaid. My dad will never get over that.

11. Even the RA hated him. He made her be his lab partner in a class they took, and he creeped her out so much that she had to switch sections of the class.

12. He thought about being gay once, but decided against it.

13. He would rip certain scenes from movies onto his computer. Not the whole movie, just random scenes. And there were movies like Clockstoppers and Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius.

14. He would get books from the library and read only the last fifteen pages. He'd do the same thing with movies: "One time I rented Sophie's Choice, but I only watched the choice scene."

15. He told a mutual friend that one time he went out to dinner with a girl and brought her home to watch a movie. He ended this story with the phrase, "Then things got weird." One can only imagine what the hell that means.

This is why I'm afraid of roommates.

If you haven't seen this yet, you need to.

Here's a tiny, African-American Elmer Fudd in a commercial for health insurance.

MomSpace

Ever have one of those days when you get "Caribbean Queen" stuck in your head? It's no fun.

I found out that my cousin got a bad tattoo from his MySpace account, and for some reason I told my mom. Whenever one of my cousins does something dumb, even the ones on my dad's side of the family, I end up telling my mom. Once, a cousin bought a pregnancy test from me when I worked at a pharmacy in high school. I went home straight from work to tell my mother. Another cousin used to quote gangsta rap lyrics on his profile, and I thought it was funny and showed my mom.

Anyway, I told her about the tattoo a couple of days ago, specifying not to go run tell my grandmother or anything (I mean, I don't want to look like the gossipy cousin). Tonight she calls me because she tried to join MySpace to look at the picture.

That scares me. My mother was pretty close to joining MySpace. I could care less if Rupert Murdoch owns MySpace, just as long as my mother stays far, far away from it.

Could we get any more Po-Mo?

These are probably my two favorite pictures I have. Ever.

In April, Laurie, Martha, Kristin and I went to my home town in the tidewater region of Virginia. After stopping in Montross, we went to Laurie's hometown, Warsaw, and then to her parents' house near Williamsburg. Of course, we had to stop in Colonial Williamsburg, just to see if it actually is as boring as it was when we were dragged there on family vacations as teenagers.

Yup, it still sucks a lot.

One of the great things about Colonial Williamsburg is that the vendors sell shitty, fake colonial-era outfits and accessories.


Here's Martha, Laurie and me with some nifty hats.

I also like watching the other families at Colonial Williamsburg. The demographic for the place seems to be parents who don't want to pay the forty dollars a ticket to take their kids to Busch Gardens, which is about ten miles away. Instead, they make them suffer through interpretive history lessons. I think this picture really exemplifies the typical family visiting Colonial Williamsburg.



There's a big fucking oxen that's peeing on the street. And this father / grandfather is scratching his ass. Priceless. Also, someone should tell that woman not to wear horizontal stripes.

Tyler loves Arby's.