Mood: accomplished I'm passively watching Mike and the Mad Dog right now. Chris Russo has to be one of the most annoying people in the tri-state area. Mike isn't so hot, either. It's on because I basically don't know where the remote control is right now. I have a general idea, but I don't have the energy to look. The gay heat is officially here. I spend a considerable amount of time wishing the sun would explode. It really should tho. And why can't you ever find towels like the ones they have on tv--the kind with the elastic around the top? I'd be interested in one of those. I can't seem to find them. I bet one of those magazines with the absurd inventions has one in there. But those magazines always come when you don't really care about anything in them, and when you need one, they're nowhere to be found. Which of course, brings to mind SUPER PAN from Mr. Show, but what DOESN'T remind me of Mr. Show? There are still, in such an age of technological and social advancements, people who haven't either heard of, or ever saw Mr. Show. This is infathomably tragic. But, most do not deserve to watch it, because most would simply not get the humor at all. Which directionlessly brings me to my dream last night. Billy Corgan. It was amazing. We hung out, he let me drive his really odd car. Then he started having sex up against a parked car with some nondescript person. I was angry at this. He took me to this section of a factory in Chicago where they created this infinite line of hamburgers where people served themselves. I recall them tasting like shit. We were talking about Black Sabbath, and how the radio only plays Paranoid, War Pigs, Iron Man, and ocassionally you'll hear Sweetleaf, if you're lucky. He was impressed with my musical knowledge, and the entire time I wanted to bang him. It was a dream, ok? I couldn't help it. Yeah. It was special. He was Billy from 1991-92; still had long hair. Time just makes things shitty in so many ways. Every single day we get further and further away from memories. New ones are obviously created, but why do they seem to pale in comparison to their afforementioned elders? I won't go there. You know, with all the plaguing injuries of the Yankees this year, I'm amazed they're doing as well as they are. To look at their lineup, (which teams like the Royals would still consider awesome, but for Yankee fans, it looks like a bad car accident) filled with VAMINOS Melky Cabrera, Andy Phillips, Terrence Long and Miguel 'Aladdin' Cairo starting almost daily. Then you think about their payroll; you just can't help it. But for the record, I like Cairo. He's a good utility player and I was sad the Yankees let him go after the 2004 season. Melky is able to bloop some and walk some, so no complaints there. Andy Philips certainly has more range at 1B than Jason Pajammies, but then again, so does my dead grandmother. In good news, they recalled up Kevin Thompson who has apparenly been doing decently down in Columbus. Took them long enough. Don't get me wrong, Joe Torre will definitely go down in Yankee history as probably the greatest manager, but I think it's time for Torre to go to sleep. Depending upon nothing but seasoned veterens doesn't seem to be working, but he also has pointless hard-ons for stupid players like ex-Yankees, Ruben Sierra and Lucky's favorite player--Enrique Wilson. A current hard-on of Joe's is Tanyon Sturtze. Why?? I just don't understand it. You've seen a gambit of great pitching while having a spansive career in the MLB, and you can't tell that Tanyon is an assclown? I know next to nothing and I can tell this. Death to Tanyon.
Doing kickflips in my dreams
2:24 p.m.//06.02.06
Sound: All Girl Summer Fun Band -- Video Game Heart
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