a post-graduate year

worth a shot ...

2006-02-14T19:15:00.000-08:00

[the following is an actual email sent to my discussion leader]

Ms. Tillman,

Please don't misconstrue my tone as rude, abrasive, or challenging in any way. I come humbled, merely asking if I am actually getting a zero on last week's writing assignment because I posted an hour and a half late. I just looked at the gradebook, and after the missed assignment the week before, it'd be a bit devastating to have back to back zeros, despite me earning them. I could offer excuses, but that would just be pathetic (it's my job's fault, scout's honor). What if I fingerpainted you a "World's Greatest Graduate Assistant" banner to hang above your desk? Or I could crank out some more construction paper flowers with green pipe cleaner stems, like the ones I made my valentine?

After reading the syllabus, it just seems that I could've lied and said my internet wasn't working, printed it out and handed it in on Wednesday and gotten full credit. I fully understand that you have an obligation to teach me the error of my ways, but wouldn't "honesty is virtuous" be a much greater lesson for me to learn? Don't answer right away, but really spend some time to reflect on the impact you would be making on my life, and then visualize the envious eyes of your graduate peers as they stand facing your desk and sigh, defeated, while reading in bold, fingerpainted letters that it is indeed the one and only Kacy Tillman who reigns supreme over all others.

Brian Hall

justice, served with a side of humble pie

2005-05-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

[author's note: the following story is true. the names have been changed to protect the guilty]

meet parrish.

parrish at parrish's

parrish is the proprieter of parrish's bar and grill, located in the historic square in downtown oxford. he's a charismatic guy, and his bar is one of the few places in oxford where one can avoid the stench of old money and radical southern pride. gross.

meet the protagonists.

kelso and cheese, after a hard day's work

on the left, we have kelso, world-reknowned for his cameo in a freshman blog post and his love for mahatma red beans and rice. on the right, there's matthew "cheese" mcchesney, most famous for his luck with the ladies and a pension for passing out in his computer chair at 2:30 in the afternoon. and then there's me (not pictured), armed with bourbon breath, an arsenal of passive-agressive insults and a canon powershot A85.

once a year, the entire town of oxford shuts down for a saturday and everyone enjoys the double decker festival, a music fest in the square. for the college student, double decker is an excuse to get publicly drunk and stumble around seeing everyone you know. minds of tomorrow, indeed.

so the three of us are out and about, amongst the masses, enjoying the gale force winds and overcast weather the day provided for us, and we decide that a refill is necessary. en route, cheese makes a pit stop at the local tobacco store to purchase a ten dollar cigar, and then its onward ...

now meet the antagonists.

the antagonists, playing it cool

on the left, there's dude 1, decked out in cool-guy sunglasses and cowboy boots. on the right, there's dude 2, who, judging by the long sleeve shirt, apparently got the memo that it was going to be cold outside, but nonetheless decided that his legs must be exposed to the public.

on our way to the refill station, we take the alley that runs next to parrish's and notice a truck with a few kegs in it, undoubtedly being delivered to parrish's to help quell its patron's thirst for life. as we walk closer, dudes 1 and 2 come out of nowhere, each grab a side of the last keg waiting to be delivered, and they dart off, running as quickly as two dudes can whilst bearing a full keg.

initially, there was silence among the three of us, but it ultimately sets in: those bastards just stole a keg from parrish's. not the levee; not the burgundy room; but they just took a keg from parrish's. not on our watch.

as they scurry off to their car and deposit the keg, we casually walk after them, and as soon as they shut the tailgate to the dudemobile, cheese strolls over, stogie in mouth, and initiates a nice friendly conversation with them. freaked out, they simultaneously light up cigarettes and commence "play it cool" mode (pictured above). cheese talks to them for a minute, mere banter, saying nothing of what everyone there knows just happened. the whole time he's talking to these guys, i unsheathed my trusty canon powershot and took picture after incriminating picture of dude 1, dude 2, and the dudemobile, fully loaded with power windows, power seats, and a stolen keg in the trunk.

when you're a dude, you park where you want to

after a full roll of evidence, kelso and i walk over:

cheese: "these are my friends, john and charles"
kelso: [without missing a beat] "call me chuck"
dude 2: "sup fellas. um, so listen ... we know you guys saw what went down and like ... is there a problem?"
me: "actually guys ... yeah, there is a problem"
cheese: [sternly] "parrish is a friend of ours. so we're gonna need that keg back"

defeated, dude 1 opens the back of the dudemobile, and silently hands over the keg, destroying all his oh-so-recent hopes of cute girls doing multiple keg stands and passing out in his bedroom. we grab the keg, exchange condolences with dudes 1 and 2, and start the victory walk back to parrish's. slowly. with a swagger.

as we approach, parrish and the keg delivery guy come running out of the alley with rage in their eyes, ready to bust heads, but quickly calm down when they see familiar faces beaming with confidence and sweat from carrying a keg. parrish, being the cool guy he is, offers us a few free rounds, and we spend the rest of the afternoon celebrating in the newly opened back half of our new favorite bar and grill. the free beers were nice, but the true spoils came from the glazed but joyful faces of the other intoxicated patrons; everything in its right place.

as for dudes 1 and 2, i deleted most of the pictures, or at least the really incriminating ones (closeups of their faces, license plate, etc.). for now, they roam free, and will hopefully heed this as a warning shot, fired over their bow of greed and petty theft.

and to all others, just know this: wherever there is wrong, wherever there is injustice, wherever a man's buzz is being threatened by the selfish acts of others, wherever there is crime ...

we'll be there.

scott rolen for pope!

2005-04-05T12:52:00.000-07:00

first of all, i'm really excited that the catholic church is allowing the cardinals to elect the next pope. this is a very wise move, and i commend the church for such a great pick. it probably would've been safer to go with the world series winners, the boston red sox, but i'm glad that catholics saw through the hype.

now, since the cardinals are being given the sole resposibility of electing the new pope, i am hereby starting a campaign: scott rolen for pope! given his work ethic on the ball field, and his rbi's last season, i think he would make a fine pope.

this guy is so a pope

lets look at the platform:

1) unfortunately, we just lost the most travelled pope of all time. but scott rolen is used to playing away games for months out of the year, and is no stranger to life and the road

2) the former pope was a strict traditionalist, who vehemently opposed women priests, as well as other liberal movements in the church. scott rolen is also a baseball traditionalist, who sprints to his position every inning exchange.

3) pope john paul II was an international icon. scott rolen has six gold gloves.

there you have it, an air-tight open-and-shut case for the new pope. so, to the people of st. louis, let your ball players know that electing the pope is an important decision, and remember: if god chose the pope, he would pick scott rolen.

rolen for pope! otherwise, you might wind up with this guy.

breakfast of tomorrow

2005-04-04T17:17:00.000-07:00

every once in a while, when you least expect it, something magical happens, and it changes your life forever.

in the grocery store the other day, i was wondering down all the aisles, searching for deals, because thanks to the capitalist pigs at bancorp south and a brilliant change in the ole miss payroll calendar, i've been left with no money for groceries. so i'm aimlessy strolling through the store, upset at having no money, and there it was: a beacon of light from the heavens had descended upon the frosted flakes. i can't be certain, but i'm pretty sure i heard a chorus of angels somewhere in the distance.

what was so majestic, you ask? well, chill out, smelly, and i'll tell you, for these were no ordinary frosted flakes. nay, these frosted flakes were frosted flakes of the future, frosted flakes from another era, frosted flakes from a time of intergalactic warfare, star wars frosted flakes that included a free lightsabre spoon right there in the box!

[at this point in the post, the author would like to discuss how the spelling "light-saber", though widely accepted, is ultimately incorrect, because the swords of our day are not called "sabers", thus making the term lightsaber utter nonsense]

perhaps a few souls out there can't quite grasp the significance of a lightsabre spoon. i have provided visuals.

here's what breakfast used to look like. classic, but boring, and a bit hackneyed.

not bad, not bad

and here's the breakfast of tomorrow.

breakfast 2k5!

and now you get it. i swear, if i had the money, and they were all my spoons, i would throw out all our old spoons and replace everyone of them with a new and improved lightsabre spoon.

i think we all can agree that the breakfast of champions has officially been one-upped, for i am now enjoying the breakfast of jedi knights. if anyone would like to join me for breakfast, i'll be the guy in the alvin houseshoes, enjoying a bowl of frosted flakes through the use of my red lightsabre spoon, whilst listening to the imperial march. oh that's right, the dark side. i'm dark. intrigued? i thought so.

leon can't cook without that dough, baby

2005-04-03T21:42:00.000-07:00

its that time again. hot dogs, peanuts, beer, box scores. america's pasttime is back, after an insane 2004 season. the boston red sox snapped their 80+ year streak of mediocrity, reversing the curse of the bambino, and thereby eliminating any reason to be a boston red sox fan. seriously, the world series win was the worst thing that could happen to that franchise, because it erased all the allure of cheering for the cursed red sox. they're no longer underdogs. the boston red sox are now just a team that doesn't win that often.

so here are the teams you should cheer for this baseball season:

al west: oakland athletics. while other teams are born on third and think they hit a triple, the a's are a testament to any baseball fan without a trust fund. having one of the smallest payrolls in baseball doesn't stop the a's from being a force to reckon with on the field. cheers to incredible scouting and to billy beane. also acceptable: texas rangers.

al central: minnesota twins. the blandest division in baseball has one saving grace, and his name is torii hunter. the greatest home run thief in the game is reason enough to back the twins. but just for insurance, think of how much fun the twins had in "little big league". also acceptable: chicago white sox.

al east: boston red sox. yeah, the defending champs are a fun team, action packed with quality individuals, pitted against the evil empire, etc. however, they won last year, and now they're boring (see above). but so are the alternatives, and the red sox have johnny damon. they also bogarted edgar renteria (thank you, players union), and that's enough to get behind them. also acceptable: baltimore orioles.

nl west: los angeles dodgers. one of baseball's storied franchises, the dodgers proved to be class acts during last season's nlds. after being defeated by the cardinals, the dodgers, as a team, walked over to shake hands with their opponents, congratulate them on a great season, and wish them luck. kudos to sportsmanship, and long live the dodgers. plus gagne is ridiculous. also acceptable: um, the padres?

nl central: st. louis cardinals. its only right that the best team in baseball have the best fans in baseball. the cardinals also have the best defense in the game, headed up by the greatest third baseman to play the game, mr. scott rolen. and considering the alternatives, this is a no-brainer. also acceptable: pittsburg pirates.

nl east: washington nationals. in the worst division in baseball (and possibly all of sports), its hard to pick a team, so just cheer for the nationals, since they're brand new, and haven't had a chance to suck yet. although, i would've liked them better if they were the washington monuments. also acceptable: florida marlins.

teams that no one should ever cheer for (from bad to worse): san francisco giants, new york mets, houston astros, philadelphia phillies, atlanta braves, new york yankees, and the god-awful chicago cubs.

so there you have it. go cardinals.

viva las tunica

2005-03-09T11:46:00.000-08:00

friday night and i'm sitting at the $2/$5 hold 'em table in the poker room of the grand casino, with eight other individuals. my stack is up to about $135 dollars, fluctuating around a steady increase from my original $80 bucks.

"you need a drink, sweetie?"

i try not to look over, but couldn't help but answer the senior citizen cocktail waitress with the super low-cut top.

"sure thing ... another budweiser would be great," as i tossed her a white casino chip. one US dollar, depending on the strength of the yen. for a second, i actually forgot about playing cards, and just thought to myself, jesus, i hope that my tipping her is not in any way contributing to her justification of wearing such an inappropriate top.

"five to you, sir," the dealer interrupted. three of the eight had called the blind, and the action was to me. cupping my cards, i carefully pull up a corner--not too high, because someone, somewhere is trying to cheat me. its a casino, after all. a good glance (only a glance) at my cards shows me that i've got ace-jack offsuit. lets not get hasty, as i toss in a red chip. five US dollars, depending on the ...

"here you go, sweetheart." senior citizen cocktail waitress gives me a fresh beer and a gap-toothed smile. i thank her as one more person calls the blind, putting action on the small blind. this jackass had overplayed every hand all night, but profitted early off of an even dumber lady who thought her two pair was going to matter when all five cards on the board were diamonds. he won a $300+ dollar hand with a seven of diamonds, so he could afford to be stupid. "i'll raise," said jackass, as he placed five red chips inside his betting circle. 25 US dollars. the table groaned, for it wasn't the first time this jerk had ruined what everyone wanted to be an inexpensive flop.

4 out of 5 players called, including myself, making the pot $105 bucks. lot of action. the dealer flops three cards: ace, ten, ace. above the waist, i do my best to remain stoic, but i'm quite sure my feet immediately started tapping. it checks to me, and since the pot is already big enough, and i dont want this set to get busted by some guy who i let stay in for free, i raise it ten. modest, meetable, but intimidating none the less. of course, everyone saw through me, or had nothing, and they all tossed in their cards. everyone except, of course, jackass, who didn't flinch as he uttered the words i had avoided all night: "i'm all in."

my mind started racing ... i've got a set of aces! this asshole's got to have something, but how can i lay this down? his preflop raise screamed pocket pair, and i've been reading him all night. ok, quick, hands that can beat me: AK, AQ, A10, and pocket 10's. i really don't think he's got an ace. gotta be the 10's. no way, this asshole would've preflop raised a lot more if he had tens; that's how he's been playing. i've got to call, i've got to call. but $100?! no, i've got to call, he's got two pair, that's it, i've got to call ...

"i call."

we simultaneously flip over our cards, and he immediately starts cussing when he sees the ace. i immediately start smiling when i see the seven of diamonds and the seven of clubs. oh my god, what a call. the pot is now $305, and i'm at a massive 92.5% advantage to win the hand.

the turn card comes: 4 of clubs. i exhale the tiniest bit of air, but i'm now standing up, because jackass is standing up, and i just felt like it was the right thing to do. one more card to go, he's only got two outs ... i'm 95.5% percent to win this hand. oh my god, one more card ... please, no seven, please no seven ...

river card: seven of spades. jackass wins it with a full house, sevens over aces. i glance one more time at my pathetic little set of aces, and can't help but notice that my jack is committing suicide. 95.5%.

"nice hand," i managed towards jackass, as i started on my way out of the poker room. "tip the dealer."

a truly sad state of affairs

2005-03-01T16:41:00.000-08:00

are you kidding me?! tell me this woman didn't take a field trip to joseph mccarthy's grave.

take a look at this picture, and then you tell me one way this woman contributes to society. seriously, just one. this is absolute theater.

unbelievable

those were the good old days, huh ann? back when those damned commies were scared to mess with america. hell, we'll get those reds yet.

next stop on ann coulter's tour of american shame:

the japenese internment camps of the pacific northwest

(wouldn't it be great to stand in front and high five for intolerance?)

[special thanks to kelso for pointing out this outrageous picture]

random thoughts during the oscars

2005-02-27T20:48:00.000-08:00

hey, here's an idea: how about we get beyonce to dominate the best song category. then we can be just as common-denominator as this year's grammys

don cheadle should win something someday

i wish i had seen just one of the movies up for best picture--but i'm glad ray didn't win

renee zelwegger looked unhealthy-thin

i'm glad eternal sunshine won best screenplay

finally, morgan freeman wins something

weird that the motorcyle diaries wasn't even nominated for best foreign film

please tell me that's not hootie in a burger king commercial. wow, that's really sad. i don't care how good the new tendercrisp bacon cheddar ranch sandwich is. and why is robert deniro in an american express commercial. maybe next we'll see tom hanks for pennzoil

free mojtaba and arash

2005-02-22T07:59:00.000-08:00

its just not right, damnit!

arash sigarchi and mojtaba saminejad, two iranian bloggers, are currently imprisoned by the iranian authorities for writing their opinions of iran's current state in their blogs. apart from being completely disgusting, this detainment is in direct contradiction of article 19 of the universal declaration of human rights.

in a tribute to these bloggers, and all those before them who have been detained, questioned, and hassled for expressing their opinion, this post is dedicated to "free mojtaba and arash" day.

for more information, check out the committee to protect bloggers.

automatic for the people

2005-02-20T23:11:00.000-08:00

i was recently given a document entitled "stuff all guys should know", with a laundry list of things that the female species as a whole would like me to know, so that i may better myself accordingly (thank you, alexis).

most likely, this list rings true for most girls, give or take a few items. for example, i'm sure that most girls will agree that "only rockstars are allowed to wear leather pants" and that "[we] are cute in raglan-sleeved t-shirts (two-toned baseball undershirts". at least i hope they all agree because i wore one yesterday (thank you, erin c-s).

but brian, what does this have to do with us?

chill out, spazz, and i'll tell you: there was one (and only one) item on the list that i didn't already know and/or do, and i am now going to place myself in the stocks, for the merriment of all you manly-men out there, so you can kick me right in the arse, and feel better about yourself while doing so. and for the lady readers of this blog, i've got to come clean, and i'm sorry in advance for any false sense of attraction i may have conjured inside of you, for i am guilty of the wussiest of all trespasses against my y-chromosome:

i do NOT know how to drive a stick.

on the list, driving a stick was the second item! "real men can drive a stick" according to this definitive list. #2!

all these years, i thought i could fake it; i've lived in fear of any situation that would require me to hop behind the wheel of some standard transmission, with a damsel in distress in the passenger seat ...

[running, under hot pursuit by a wave of anonymously evil henchmen]
"oh my god, this whole abandoned warehouse is wired with explosives and its going to blow in any second"
"don't worry penelope cruz, i'll get us out of this mess. and after i do, i'm gonna take you out to a nice lobster dinner."
"or we could just skip the restaurant and have room service bring us dessert"
"quick, toss me those conveniently-laying-around keys you luckily swiped while i was hand-to-hand combat fighting the head bad guy"
"here you go ... oh god, brian, they're closing in on us ... even if we don't make it, i want you to know that you will always be my hero. i love you, brian hall!"
"oh penelope! that sounds so perfect with your accent"
"there's the van; quick, let's get the hell out of here!"
"oh shit! it's a stick!"
"yeah, so what?!"
"... i ... i never learned to drive a stick!"
"what do ya mean, you never learned how ...?! what kind of man are you?!! what the hell are we supposed ..."
[huge explosion]

so its out there. my dirty secret. someone please pick me up in your standard, and teach me to be a man.

new blog direction: game theorists do it rationally

2005-02-17T11:46:00.000-08:00

well thanks for the overwhelming response to the contest, everyone made me feel really awesome about this blog. yep, you guessed it, i received zero suggestions. besides being a huge blast to my ego, it kinda confirms that no one reads this thing, so i'm free to say whatever i want. nipples.

[author's note: while writing this, i finally received an entry in the contest. ms. hayley shelton suggested "reverse cowgirl", under the premise that it is sexual and clever. i'd have to agree.]

maybe i should have created an overall theme for this thing, instead of writing about myself all the time. maybe someone would actually tune in if i had created a game theorists blog, for up-and-coming economists to discuss ideas. probably anything would have been better than anecdotes about myself and funny links (at least i think they're funny).

for the few of you still tuning in, here's a quick recap of my time-off from the blog: the weekend was a blast; i went to sewanee and hung out with dick and stu. rach and her roommate flew down, and so they got to see first hand the awesomeness that is the lodge (sewanee chi psi house, not dick lodge). sunday night, i hung out with the dan, william thomas oakes, III, their roomie peter, and sammy, the world's most OC dog. give him a plastic bottle and he doesn't stop chewing it. two-stick trivia was same-old. we ended up stealing our friend jack's fantasy baseball team name, "the tort-reformers". some 260 lb. guy started a fight with one of our teammates and kelso yelled at him to get the hell out of two stick trivia. but he was thrown out, so all was well. and last night, david had an after-party with about 60 people, but it was quickly broken up by the oxford police, and dave received a nice noise violation.

yes, that paragraph was not interesting, so if you've made it this far, i offer you brian's awesome song of the month:

"common people" -- by william shatner, with joe jackson. produced by ben folds.

no really, its good.

next post won't be whiny, i swear.

tony danza tap dance extravaganza

2005-02-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

team doodoo is no more. broken up, disbanded, laid to rest. our tuesday two stick trivia win/loss record under team doodoo is a pathetic 0 and 254, or something like that. we needed a new approach, a fresh start, a clean slate. and so what better way to boost morale than to totally bogart someone else's clever band name, and pawn it off in another town as your own? i give you, the new two stick tuesday trivia team name:

tony danza tap dance extravaganza!

again, that's the tony danza tap dance extravaganza. glorious. and though we stumbled out of the blocks last night, we made a valiant effort, and almost pulled off the upset. but we lost, so maybe its time for a new team name. hence, i call on you, faithful readers, to submit incredible team names so that we may seem witty come future tuesdays.

"ho hum, what's the point? what's in it for me?"

well, don't interrupt and i'll tell you, selfish. besides the tingling in your loins, any entry that we deem humorous enough to use will receive two dollars american, to be mailed along with a handwritten thank you note and/or a humorous picture of kelso, which can be used to the full extent of your wildest desires (wink-wink, ladies). that's a pretty sweet deal, considering all you have to do is type out a funny name, and email it to me at rbhall@olemiss.edu, and if you think your idea is too genius for our eyes only, feel free to post it in the comments section below, for the millions of others to scrutinize.

get cracking, america ... we need you to make us look funny!

[limit three team names per person. contest is over when i say so, but will most certainly go on throughout the month of february. as always, we here at a post-graduate year despise bigotry, and do hereby promise there will be no discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin, in accordance with title VII of the civil rights act of 1964]

the world doesn't suck!

2005-02-08T23:41:00.000-08:00

[author's note: the following post was composed after losing the buzz from a night of moderate drinking ... hence the cheesy, melancholy-but-hopeful tone]

ah, the superbowl. what was once billed as the single greatest game in american sports has been reduced to an advertisement orgy with anheuser-busch at the helm. sure, i love hackneyed video blurbs starring cedric the entertainer just as much as the next guy, but the game that once so vehemently tugged on american heart-strings is dying, willing away its record-breaking viewers to the nation's collegiate c-students, a.k.a. marketing majors.

so the game itself is overshadowed by the commercials, and the commercials are getting worse, so what is the allure of the superbowl? has it simply become an excuse for twenty-somethings to drive to the neighboring county, the one that does sell beer on sundays, just to pickup a couple of malt-liquors to partake in the age-old classic of "edward forty-hands"? what else is left?

years ago, someone who accepted the above premises could argue that the superbowl halftime show was the true reason for the season. enter janet jackson's tit. to avoid all unoriginality, i'll avoid that subject, because everyone can agree that never has a poor horse been beaten to death in a more sadistic fashion--suffice to say this: love it or hate it, that boob single-handedly destroyed all credibility ever warranted by the halftime spectacle.

but that credibility has been restored. our knight in shining armour: sir paul mccartney. at a time when we needed it the most, one fourth of the fab four banded together the capacity crowd, as they all joined in a symphony of "na-na na nah's", a celebration of all that is good and right and just in today's world. despite the bastardization of sir paul's british heritage by the patriotic brainwashing required at any upscale sporting event (reference to the american flag obsession), the rendition of "hey jude" left me with a smile on my face that has yet to fade, thinking in my head that maybe, just maybe, all could be right with the world, if we could just pack ourselves into a stadium within earshot of such an epic feel-good tune.

bless you, sir paul, for being so goddamn charismatic that you could force an entire nation to forget about jugs for five minutes, and just sing along. indeed, the world doesn't suck after all.

stay fresh

2005-02-06T11:56:00.000-08:00

i recently had the staff sort through all the fan mail, and the question we get the most is "brian! i love that dog so much! where did you find such an exquisite picture of that gorgeous pup?"

well keep your pants on smelly, because i can't believe i'm about to tell you: the picture was borrowed (without permission) from the vintage vantage website, an online t-shirt company that specializes in manufacturing brand new shirts with the softness and superiority of a rare thrift store find. i guess the process is a bit similar to the making/purchasing of worn-in pre-holed jeans, except that vintage vantage doesn't suck--not in the least.

although their specialty is clearly the shirts, the vv website is worth more than the passing glance. the bichon frise picture is from the "ask heather" portion of the site, which i discovered once when cole and i were seeking outside sources to decide which was girlier to watch, real world/road rules challenge or dawson's creek; the creek won in an estrogen-packed landslide, as i predicted, but it did nothing to quell the creek addiction that cole and kelso suffered last year.

back to vv: check out their shirts, and their auctions. these feel-good camp coolers work in vintage graphic stylings much like michaelangelo worked with paint and marble; freshness is their true medium.

no, seriously

bike crash and biker fox

2005-02-03T15:56:00.000-08:00

so i went all last semester without ever purchasing a new university parking decal; somehow, i made it all fall without getting ticketed (probably because 40% of the time, i walked to class, and 55% of the time, i skipped). but this semester, during the very first week of class, i got caught twice, and am currently fighting some bullshit charges on the tickets. so, i guess i have to give in, get in line, and go purchase a decal, right?

wrong! enter kelso's bike. i've been riding to and fro campus for the past couple of weeks, and i've got to say that the bicycle is exactly the medium of transportation that i've been looking for--and yes, i have been taking it off sweet jumps. best of all, chicks love bikes!

so about thirty minutes ago, i'm living it up on two wheels, and i'm cruising at an above average pace, just riding down the sidewalk; and (this all happens instantly) i hear a POP! and i look down (for a split second) to see the front brakes falling apart--sounds scary, huh? well don't worry, it wasn't a big deal ... because in the split second that i looked down at the brakes, i ran off the sidewalk going over 20 mph, flew over the handlebars, and completely wiped out in front of oxford's 5:00 traffic. yeah, my face literally broke my fall. thank god i hit grass, because i would've scarred my face for life, effectively ending my moonlighting as a male model.

as it stands now, it might be a black eye, it's too early to tell. one thing is for sure, there is definitely a headache. in the aftermath of the accident, i realized that once again, its time for the biker fox to return to my life. i never once thought i would serioulsy contemplate learning the crash and preventative techniques from de fox, but hey!, "ninety-nine percent of the time" he lands on his feet.

best thing about biker fox: you would think such a thrill-seeking renaissance man like himself wouldn't have time to give back to the community, but you'd be wrong ... oh so wrong. the fox knows how to get serious. take it from him:

"For the most unprecedented motivational speaking presentation including bike tricks and comedy like no other you have ever seen in the United States whom can actually relate to high school and college students, please call me directly at 918-493-1966."

don't believe me? just ask danny-elle who she talked to directly when she called that number at 2:30 in the morning. bikerfox is the real deal people. meanwhile, i'm 0 for 1 on flipping over the handlebars and landing on my feet ... i rather prefer my face to be the first thing to hit the ground. but at least this way, i feel somewhat connected to bikerfox in a way that only two rugged dudes with an appetite for adrenaline can understand. i'll close with some more words from the fox himself, in foxy third person, of course:

"BikerFox wants everyone to know this golden opportunity that you've been given on this Earth only comes around once in a lifetime. There are no second takes, second chances, so please understand this life is about you and the mark that you will make on the rest of the world. Oh and guys, this life is all about the girls so if you are having trouble communicating with these cute little creatures, pick up Dr. Phil's book and do exactly what you are told and everything will be just fine."

sage.

the jill formula

2005-02-02T11:37:00.000-08:00

so those of you lucky enough may have heard my stories about dr. william staton, my real anaylsis teacher and definitely the coolest mathematics professor in the department, which i realize isn't saying much, because mathematicians develop nerditis at an early age. dr. staton has this tendency to be completely enthralled in his lecture and then pause to ponder, seemingly about how to best clarify his next point, and then suddenly launch into whatever ridiculous thought or story just entered his head. examples:

"... and we can choose our delta to be sufficiently small enough to force our limit to be less than epsilon and in doing so ... did you guys here about this guy that's going around shooting ladies in the ass with a bb gun? i mean, it's weird!"

"... but we have to keep in mind that in our metric space, we don't know what kind of elements we're choosing, but only the distance between ... so austria's trying to revoke arnold's citzenship, huh?"

these are merely examples fresh on my mind, but others like them occur about two to three times per class. today, however, he stopped for a while when he came across what he calls the jill formula, and since the mathematics is literally elementary, i decided to give everyone a bill staton story:

"... so you can see how this (9 - x^2) is the jill formula! [his enthusiasm is met with our blank stares] i didn't tell you guys about the jill formula? [shaking heads] are you sure? ...

well, i was about your age, maybe a little older. i was a first-year grad student, and had just moved in to this apartment housing, and was hanging out with my buddies across the hall, and was introduced to this very attractive young lady named jill. 'bill, jill. jill, bill.'

i think she was a journalism major or something, and she asked me what i was in school for, and i told her and she said 'oh that's so funny that you're a math major'
'why's that funny?'
'i don't know, it just is ... quick what's 32 times 28?'
'896.' [instantly]
'ha, you're so funny.'
'well i'm glad i'm funny, but 32 times 28 is 896."
'yeah, i'm sure it is,' she said, not believing me.

so sure enough, someone got out a calculator and 32 * 28 = 896. and so she was really impressed, but i just got lucky, because she had given me two numbers that worked out wonderfully in the soon-to-be jill formula [writes on board]:

32 * 28 =
(30 + 2) * (30 - 2) =
(30 - 2)^2 =
(30)^2 - (2)^2 = 900 - 4 = 896

and so the whole point of the story is that the difference of two squares came to be known in the department as the jill formula, because ... well ... after that, jill thought i was a genius. and, well, jill was pretty easy on the eyes, and ... uh ... how can i put this delicately? ... it, um ... it paid off for her to think that i was a genius."

total badass.

stick with what works ...

2005-01-30T19:04:00.000-08:00

so i know this has been done before, but i thought it was such an effective way to follow up a rant, that i'm thinking this might become a tradition: once again, to show that i do have feelings, and they're not all cynical, here and back by popular demand is the picture of a funny dog.

such poise, such grace. and look how furry he is!

stare at this for 30 seconds without laughing, and you officially have a heart that's three sizes too small

faulkner, hemingway, and grisham

2005-01-30T16:07:00.000-08:00

new rule: if you're in an advanced composition course at a research university, and you have an assignment to select an author's work that exhibits a style of writing that you really admire, then under no circumstances is it ok to bring in any of the following:

1) skipping christmas, by john grisham*
2) anything else by john grisham
3) the da vinci code, by dan brown
4) sex and the city newspaper articles*
5) today's column of any local sports journalist
6) a walk to remember, by nicholas sparks*
7) the right man, a biography of the president**

* note that if you do decide to bring in such works, please actually read them before the class, rather than simply seeing the tv show/movie
** again, if the assignment is to bring in a style of writing that you appreciate, and you bring in a biography of the president, just because you like the president, and then you admit that you have only read the first chapter of the book, then yes, you are a simpleton.

i wish i was making this up, i really do. out of 20 people in the class, less than half decided to actually do the assignment, and the above list was the result. i thought the teacher was going to jump out the window, right then and there. and i hate english, and i hate literature, and i'm so ignorant about so many things in the wonderful world of the written word, and i shouldn't even be worked up over this, but even i know better ... i mean, wow ... you can't even read the book you bring in?! and yes, i'm a snob, and i know that, but john grisham? are you kidding me?! this is college, you dolt.

i'm proud to be at ole miss. hotty toddy.

[if anyone is unclear as to why the above works are unsatisfactory and inappropriate, feel free to email me at rbhall@olemiss.edu so that i may rant in more detail]

sausage party!

2005-01-25T17:03:00.000-08:00

look at all that sausage ... no, on the grill

so fellas, we all know how it goes. you live with a few guys, and then a couple more show up with some beer, and before you know it, you've got a full blown manfest: seven, eight, ten, twelve dudes hanging out and not one dudette to lively up the place. well fret no more, because it's 2k5, and such situations aren't necessarily a bad thing ...

i give you the sausage party! from now on, whenever you find way too many y-chromosomes lumbering about your humble abode, just make a run to the grocery store, fire up the grill, and voila! what was once so deeply rooted in negative connotations is now the highlight of your midweek.

we tested out this new fad last night; we being myself and five other male-types, and i've got to say, it was pretty refreshing. the only problems came about when six guys are huddled around our tiny-ass grill, each thinking they're the superior grill-master, and the others should step back and show some respect. other than the tensely-testoronic moments like these, a sausage party isn't all that bad. next time the ladies won't give you the time of day, then i'd suggest you get with the program.

sausage parties: uniting dudes from all over the world. do you really want to be out of the loop?

[coming soon: the sausage jarty ... that's right, it does exist]

san antonio: the destruction

2005-01-23T16:14:00.000-08:00

the destruction

you ever have those experiences where you build something up in your head, and then you're kinda let down by the results, because of the expectations you created? this was NOT one of those times.

from the first earth-shattering cymbal crash to the final heart-melting power chord, the boy scout cookies rocked our faces off and we loved them for it. the show began as pictured above; a symphony of syncopated eruptions piercing through the ominous cloud of smoke lingering above the crowd. just as the haze dissapated and the crowd got a first true look at the destruction they were about to endure, the doors of the bsc coffin swung open, revealing the inspekta, clad in an encompassing black robe complete with hood. never has horror been juxtaposed with talent so perfectly. as the inspekta discarded his hood, unveiling his glare which literally redefines intensity, he launched into a frenzy of tambourine shaking and face-rocking dance skills. in that instant, i knew i would never make it out alive.

fear me

it took less than two songs for joe the ocean to discard the wifebeater he begun the show with, and who could blame him? when thumping out smooth, sensual bass rhythms, why be constricted with such trivial matters as clothing? his true concern was clear--the ladies in the house needed him, as an addict needs his fix; they needed the ocean to provide them with an orgasmic array of grindable undertones, and wow, did he ever deliver.

benvolio van novo was on a mission: to shred as much metal as humanly possible. his fingers of fury were so devastatingly destructive, that at one point, i distinctly remember fearing for my life and second-guessing the qualifications of whatever structural engineer had fortified the walls and ceiling of the white rabbit.

more destruction

the percussive stylings of mr. concept were nothing short of man's greatest attempt at besting our creator. his conscientious dedication to his craft was morphed into torturously exquisite rhythms which brought the entire crowd to their knees. and then, when the hour of our doom was apparent, the music subsided and mr. concept exploded into a blistering multitude of kicks, toms, and crashes that may or may not be directly responsible for the explosion of two stars in our galaxy that night.

the old adage is true: whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger; and though i was among the lucky few who did make it out alive (i used some of baumann's groupies as a human shield), not a day goes by that i don't have flashbacks of the complete and utter destruction. but don't fret, i'll be ok. for after seeing the boy scout cookies play live and in person, my penis is now larger.

san antonio: the white rabbit

2005-01-19T15:17:00.000-08:00

oh yes, that's right. san antonio. the white rabbit. the tour up to this point was mere foreplay, a simple sideshow attraction, like stopping by to see the world's second largest ball of twine when in route to mecca. sure its interesting, in a very odd abnormal-psych kinda way (who makes these things?), but after laughing at others' and thier waste-of-time endeavors, you get your ass back on the road until you reach the promised land. our destination? bsc or bust.

upon arrival, the crew de tejas was given directions to the home of austin, the lead guitarist with fingers of fury, which also doubles as the band's principle practice facilities. being the good-natured destructionists that they are, the boy scout cookies decided to try and share their spotlight with the less fortunate, less important people of the world such as yours truly. the plan was for me to participate in the night's show, be it through spitting rhymes or playing an instrument, but this ultimately fell through because of my lack of rap lyric knowledge and my embarrassing loss of any drumming talent i once could fake. for the latter, i blame myself for not touching a pair of drumsticks in a year and a half--for the former, i blame the caucasia.

next stop was the hidden castle of the hills that houses the one and only stephen morsund. for those of you who have never had the pleasure, stephen is a hilarious guy and student at washington university who has two things going for him: a chameleon hairstyle and an affinity for laughing at his own jokes ... loudly. he greeted us with a huge smile and took us upstairs to his entertainment parlor (complete with pool table, incredible tv/sound system, professional poker table, and the bathroom even has a standup urinal), and there awaiting our arrival were the effervescent adrienne farr, the ridiculous brady farr, and mr. kickass himself, jordan margetson. apparently, they were so excited with anticipation to see us that they decided to put in the hulk dvd to calm themselves down--it worked so well, they barely acknowledged us as we came in, and the lights stayed off until the hulk caught sight of jennifer connelly, degreened himself and stopped smashing tanks. seriously, hulk ... chill out.

almost completely assembled, the crew then headed out for some grub, swinging by the party palace to pick up the man, the legend, myron jones. myron is a complete baller who routinely takes pity on those less cool and allows us to party with him at his house. we packed ourselves into two cars and, against my will, stephen led the caravan to a mexican restaurant so we could all fill up with poo food. my gut told me this was a huge mistake, but not wanting to kill the others' buzz, i went along with it. tragically, i didn't realize the error of my ways until it was too late; the seven of us were packed into a corner booth designed for four, and when i ordered the largest margarita in the house, my heart was promptly crushed by the most terrifying words known to college students: "we don't serve any alcohol." oh the perils of being a sober lactose intolerant hungry guy in a baptist mexican restaurant that serves no dish without extra queso. thanks guys.

mary, stephen, adrienne and myron ... see, i have friends!

after everyone else finished their meal, and i finished my dr. pepper, it was almost time. finally, the hour of destruction was upon us. we all re-sardined ourselves into brady's car, and headed toward the infamous white rabbit. as the tires screeched to a stop in a pseudo attempt at parallel parking, i experienced one of those deep points of reflection that occurs when all of time slows down right before witnessing something spectacular. but the quiet before the storm was promptly broken; before i could step out of the car, an earth shattering "briiiian!" shot across the crowd of teenagers in the parking lot. its owner was none other than j. baumann, sporting a texas rangers jersey, a powerfully pink headband, and the grin of someone who just caught their friend looking up porn. he unearthed himself from the swarm of j-bow groupies surrounding him (about eight 15 year old girls), ran over and tackled stu, then promptly went into a story about one of the girls in the groupie circle. absurdity.

with our new addition, the crew lined up outside the entrance, and those of us in college got a nice square look at what our life had come to: supposedly, this place was a bar, but there was absolutely no one over the age of 18 inside. while being carded to enter (how did all these kids make it in here?), we each had to specify what group we were there to see ... apparently, the place keeps track of which bands are bringing in the crowds with a highly sophisticated system of tally marks at the opening gate. after shouting out "are you crazy man? i'm here for the bsc!", i entered and officially felt like the old, creepy guy for the first time in my life. but this thought reeked of obsolescence, and i regathered my focus ... it was almost time.

while waiting, we formed a camp/college circle of security, and only talked to each other. all of us, except for baumann, who went back to his circle of beauties--the picture doesn't do it justice, but i swear he had eleven girls around him when it was taken. and then, at last, the god-awful opening band was kicked off the stage for being way too angst-ridden and way too untalented, and the culminating moment of the entire trip to texas had finally arrived ...

its the pink headband ... its gotta be the pink headband

houston: craig's house

2005-01-15T13:41:00.000-08:00

somewhat rested, i awoke and rolled off kyle's not-so-comfy couch, and was greeted by muffled snorts of jubilation from the aforementioned squatty little dog, which may or may not be a pug. i affectionately nicknamed the dog "shovel face" because, well, it pretty much looks and sounds like it was hit in the face with a shovel--his face is flat and his nasal cavity is so smushed that he snores with every breath, especially when he's awake and excited. i played with shovel face for a little while as the rest of the crew began stirring from their respective quarters.

once awake, we raided kyle's kitchen and ate all of his eggs and cinnamon rolls. kyle was in charge of the remote, so we ended up watching some movie starring l.l. cool j and the head cheerleader of the compton clovers from bring it on (when i think compton, i don't exactly think of a lucky charms marshmallow). during showers, stu's woman (who i'm convinced hates me) and one of her friends stopped by for a few minutes as they were on their way out to hike in big bend national park; both were quite impressed with kyle, despite his relentless mental abuse of poor shovel face.

after showers, mary, stu and i loaded up the ford explorer of freshness, and parted ways with kyle. destination: houston. to his credit, stu almost managed to stay awake for the whole on-ramp, but i'm certain he was asleep before we reached our cruising speed. mary, now riding shotgun, was in charge of music, and performed beautifully up until her insistance that we listen to some "texas country," which is somehow better than regular country music. to me, every song had the same chord progression, and the same basic premises:

1. it was really great growing up in texas
2. texas is the best state ever
3. beer tastes better in texas
4. girls are prettier and guys are manlier in texas
5. even if you get your heart broken, its ok, because you're in texas

the drive to houston isn't all that bad, but the drive into houston is terrible. i think we logged an extra hour and a half of driving solely inside the city limits. it doesn't help that downtown houston reeks of pollution, humidity and mediocre baseball. but then the stink of second best was soon replaced with that of exfoliation cream, and i knew we were approaching montrose. minutes later, the ford explorer of freshness rolled to a stop in front of chez craig.

mary and angie stared at me knowingly all night long ...

craig is a senior at sewanee, and president of stu's fraternity, and his house has become the staple of good times on the previous tours--very serene and peaceful to be so close to downtown. in fact, the only thing keeping you on your toes is the multitude of large dogs roaming around, including an awesome black lab, a bastardly full size poodle, and an 8 week old great dane puppy whose cuteness is second only to his budding piranha teeth. the puppy was a replacement for blue, the full size great dane who passed away this past semester--blue was over four feet tall on all fours, and i swear i thought it was a bear the first time it came around the corner. however, being the world's largest animal had its downsides, and blue was plaugued with hip problems for being too large for his spine. he had to stay drugged up all the time, and was the greatest companion dog in the world, until he "blueced" (blue-deuced) a steaming pile all over the guest house floor fifteen minutes before bedtime. ah, memories.

after settling in and ordering some pizza, we finally got in touch with all the ladies waiting on us, and angie and jenn were the first to arrive. funniest thing, they both came all dolled up and ready for a night out on the town, while the team de tejas was lounging around in the clothes we'd been wearing for days. warm greetings and catching up stories ensued, and we mainly just loafed around craig's guesthouse.

later, jess and her friend arrived (i'm also convinced the friend doesn't like me), and joined the good times--by this point, i had found myself a nice spot on the main couch in front of the television, and recall not moving for what seemed like hours, until it was pizza time again. craig was in charge of the remote, and we were watching an american chopper marathon, which is one of my new favorite shows. i could do without all the bikes, but the interaction between the family is hilarious, and is only exacerbated with craig as narrator. i felt bad though, because i feel as if the girls expected us to roll out a red carpet with many "i haven't seen you in so long"'s--what they got was a road trodden (among other things) crew with somewhat enthusiastic hugs and greetings. i suck.

more of craig's friends showed up as the night drug on, and more than one had not been introduced to the glory that is napoleon dynamite, so everyone at the party agreed it was time to bring on the awesome. everyone except for angie, who made her displeasure widely known ("this is the stupidest movie ever made"), but her tone and inflection actually made it seem like she should be a character in the movie rather than a dissenter. either way, she was scolded for her insolance.

why am i so appealing? ... i must ponder

twenty minutes into the movie, ben thurber was able to stop by and make an appearance, though brief. he pulled up a chair in the back of the room, watched about ten minutes of the movie, and promptly left because the party had become quite lame. soon after, the girls followed his lead, and those remaining crashed in the guest house. major disappointment of the night: hayley shelton was unable to make an appearance, most likely because we never called. this injustice was for a couple of reasons, all of them being private and out of my hands, but i was deeply saddened by her absence; i'm truly sorry, and i'm certain that one day she'll find it in her heart to forgive me. if you'd like to help you can cruise on over to hayley's blog and post a message reminding her how much she needs me.

much thanks to craig for yet another opening of his home, and for the pizza. houston, though relatively uneventful, was a great time, and it was fun just to see everyone again. houston may not be a good baseball town, but montrose is ok by me.

ft. worth: billy bob's

2005-01-13T13:36:00.000-08:00

after 48 hours of anticipation, stu finally arrives in dallas on the night of the 5th, weary and road-trodden. so, to make things easy for him, we immediately packed up all of our stuff in the ford explorer of freshness and hit the road again. our first destination: ft. worth, the chief stomping grounds of mr. kyle wood.

upon arrival, we were introduced to kyle's parents and his squatty little dog, who kyle trains through intricate methods of verbal and mental abuse. after looking around at pictures--there was this one of crew-topped kyle during his powerlifting days, in which he's squatting 500+ pounds and his face looks like he's being drawn and quartered--we once again hopped in the car, and headed out to hit up the ft. worth night life. after a few failures, we wound up at billy bob's, the world's largest honky tonk bar, and i was thoroughly chastised for never having heard of it.

upon entrance, stuart and i were all but cavity searched for having the audacity to be in a different state. the genius bouncer viewed, scrutinized, picked, scratched, rubbed, licked and boiled our mississippi licenses before finally deciding that we were legit. five minutes was a little excessive, but i got over it once we made it inside. my poor license, however, is currently in therapy and is planning to file a civil suit (criminal being harder to win), sueing for harassment and assault.

billy bob's was interesting. i felt a little out of place at first, wearing a thermal underwear shirt under a t-shirt (this has become the cornerstone of my wardrobe ever since that girl went hitler on me), but my uneasiness was soon quelled as the twangs of steel guitars faded and then morphed into thumping bass beats, and over the loudspeaker came that age old honky tonk classic ... "my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." i then realized that billy bob's had evolved with the rest of the world (though one year behind on the music), and that shaggy-haired kids from out of state were probably accepeted after all.

"oh my god, our faces are stuck together ... and it really makes me smile!"

the four of us hung out at a table for most of the night (pitcured above with mary and kyle), but mary eventually left us to go dance circles around the other guys in the place, returning periodically to try and coax one of us squares out of our dark corner and onto the dance floor. kyle eventually gave in, while stu and i sat proudly among our castle of empty cups, and watched the two-stepping from a safe distance. sure it was reverse snobbery, but line dancing has got to be the whitest thing in history, and just in case my life is being constantly filmed and broadcasted in a 24 hour television show, i didn't want my attempts at line dancing to be on the brian show dvd's special features.

after it closed, mary drove us home, with kyle barking directions. turns out, he took us on a ten minute detour in order to drive by a witch's home. kyle and his high school friends were convinced that this old lady was indeed a witch, but i saw no cauldron, broomsticks or pointy hats, or any evidence of witchcraft whatsoever. and his stories about her witchiness sound to me like kyle and his friends simply harassed this lady until she threw rocks at them, an obvious warning sign of mondern day witchery. all in all, it was a good night.

our hours? all of them

2005-01-13T13:20:00.000-08:00

in a slight breach of chronological order, this post is dedicated to the acquatic foursome's stop at a local steak and shake, in order to refuel in delicious fashion, before heading downtown for some real adventure. the only disappointment in the meal was that steak and shake does not serve breakfast twenty-four hours a day. i was forced to eat a hamburger for my first meal of the day, but it was noon thirty. maybe that's more of a statement about my life then a critique on the establishment's menu.

complimentary hats and bibs are ok by colin

dallas: the aquarium

2005-01-13T12:26:00.000-08:00

yep, you guessed it! we went to the aquarium! this field trip was on the 5th, while mary and i were eagerly awaiting stu's arrival to dallas, so we could get on with the tour. hanging out with us that afternoon were the ever-delightful rachel and the always-informative colin, both of the scherr tribe. the trip wasn't all smiles though, and i offer everyone this word of advice: if you're planning on going to the dallas aquarium, do not assume that the building that is painted completely blue with pictures of whales and other acquatic life is, in fact, the aquarium. you are making a mistake, and the parking lot attendant will only inform you that you're actually a 10 minute walk away from the aquarium after you pay him four dollars to park. jackass. luckily, the girls were wearing comfortable shoes for the trek; flip-flops, actually, so they were prepared to walk, but not prepared for the 30 degree dip in the temperature, and their poor toes lost all feeling for a couple of hours.

once inside the aquarium, we were greeted by an array of exotic wildlife, both aquatic and terrestrial. penguins, eels, sea cows, poisonous frogs, birds, and a panther. yes, a panther at the aquarium. i know. the best part was that he was enclosed in a large glass case, and would charge at you with lightning speed and agility, and pounce on the glass just in front of you, causing you to all but poop your pants. good times!

other highlights include:
-- colin's surprisingly in-depth knowledge of the basilisk (you know, the thing that can run on water)
-- the cute penguins at the entrance
-- the empty display case that colin and i convinced the girls housed the most amazing creature we had ever seen (we had them looking at it for 30 seconds before i hit the deck in laughter)
-- and, of course, the shark tunnel, pictured below with (from left to right) myself, rachel, and colin

frostbitten digits aside, it was a great afternoon.

just remember: the sharks are just as scared of you as you are of them

calm down, it's coming

2005-01-12T13:27:00.000-08:00

so i know i promised that details from the tour de tejas would be up soon, but it's not going to happen just yet. the holdup is that i want to post some of the pictures from the trip, but this is proving difficult because of my recent switch to the apple. yes, i can hear your snickers: "but brian, i thought apple was superior in every way ..."

well, shutup, because it is. however, google hasn't quite caught up. blogger is a google entity, and uses another google program called "hello" in order to post pictures. downside: hello is only available for the proles ... aka pc/windows users. there's another up-and-coming site called flickr that you can use to post pictures on your blog, but a free account only holds about 8 pictures, and that's not worth it. i'm sure there's another way, and no one's telling me about it (please feel free to fill me in), but until i get back to my dinosaur of a pc in oxford, i don't want to post any tour de tejas material. trust me, it'll be better when i have the time and know-how to do it right.

since i've been home, however, things have been slowed down significantly. example? it's 3:30 pm, and i haven't showered today. yesterday, stu, kelso and i played a round of hippie golf -- at which i am terrible. every shot of mine has a massive slice, and i can't throw a disc very far, but if you put me in the teebox of a 150 ft dogleg left, you better not stand in front of the chains. stu won handily, kelso lost gracefully, and i basked in my usual mediocrity.

tonight, its back to oxford, to return to all my scholarly pursuits. maybe i'll get some work done on the blog tonight. until then, i'm going to leave you with ...

zach braff's new year's resolutions:
forgo all exercise (including walking),
learn to smoke (something thin like capri's),
take my loved ones for granted,
stop washing my hands after twosies,
laugh at babies who are late walkers,
pull leaves off trees that appear to be flourishing,
name the yet to be named voices in my head (something tough like "carl" or "kyle"),
be less kind to bunnies,
floss everything but my teeth,
travel (but only around my yard with a light carry-on),
stop and smell the rosens. (they're a wonderful family and absolutely compulsive about showering)

more fanfare

2005-01-09T16:07:00.000-08:00

that's right. more and more people are listening--steve nash is the mvp. he's orchestrated a complete turnaround in phoenix. check out this latest article.

anecdotes from the tour will be up soon.

roaring through texas ...

2005-01-04T15:47:00.000-08:00

so i'm hanging out in dallas right now, spending some quality time with mary maliff, and getting hassled by others because i haven't updated my blog in a while (angela--so good to me). my millions of readers are angry, and well, fame is quite the fickle lady. c'mon, it was the holidays, and i never got a chance to sit down and use the internet. in fact, you lucked out, because i'd still be without internet if i wasn't in the suburbs right now: apparently, someone down the street from mary's house has wireless internet with no password requirement, so i'm currently hijacking bandwidth. high five for technology!

tour de tejas III is currently underway, despite a few snags. the awesome hotel room in downtown dallas turned out to be not so much awesome as a shithole. apparently, downtown dallas gets really sketchy a block past city hall. the 14 story hotel had a total of 9 cars in the parking lot when i checked in, the lobby was awful, my toilet didn't fill back up after i flushed it, and my shower drain was clogged. so, the hotel is no more and i'm crashing at mary's. right now, she's playing with pictures of me in photoshop--giving me fake sunburns and that sort of thing. (she's a whiz at photoshop)

we hung out with rachel and kyle wood last night--an absolute blast. kyle was a little road weary at first, but a few beers perked his spirits right back up to normal. example: we picked up rach, and within the first 90 seconds she was in the car, kyle launches into a story about a sleazy strip club he went to, where he got a lapdance from a fat, completely naked 30 year old, who would grind on him and scoot his chair back, and then hit him in the face with her breasts. class act, that kyle.

stu gets here tomorrow, and then we leave for houston, where we're hopefully staying at craig's house in the gay district of town--i'm not sure how a city has a gay portion of town, but the air in montrose does smell curiously like exfoliating cream. seeing eveyone is going to be great: angie, jess, thurber, ruggles, and cowboy nolinberg, and a possible hayley appearance.

houston is the night of the 6th. then to san antonio for the 7th, to witness the destruction that will be the boy scout cookies live in concert. hopefully and old camp reunion will get together afterwards (give me a call if you're in the area, and lucky enough to already have my number -- i can't post it here, i'll have millions of ladies calling). austin on the 8th -- hanging ou with adrienne and brady, jordan, john heymann, with a possible ryan littlepage. words can not express how funny that guy is; i've never left a conversation with him without thinking that was the funniest thing i've ever heard.

if i left out your name, its because you don't answer me when i tell you about things. that, or i forgot about you, and i'm sorry. open invitation to join up with the tour; it'll be fun, and maybe we'll make shirts. until then ...

steve nash for mvp!

2004-12-24T08:07:00.000-08:00

last night, the phoenix suns, who only won 29 games all of last year, extended their winning streak into the double digits, as miracle point guard and playmaker steve nash tied an nba record with 10 straight games with 10+ assists. note that those 10 games have all been wins for the suns, which now have the best record in the nba.

its no secret that nash has been my favorite player in the nba for quite some time now. i enjoyed his time at dallas and adopted the mavericks as "my team". having spent some time in texas, and specifically dallas, i was a bit disappointed but extremely confused when the mavs let go the heart of their team so they could pick up erick dampier. who?, you ask ... exactly.

dampier is averaging 8 points and 7 rebounds a game, and dallas is hovering at a respectable 17-10. but with dallas' talent, that record is below expectations, and nowhere near the starts that the team enjoyed with mr. nash at the helm (anyone remember the mavs' 16-0 start a few years back?). and now go back and read the first paragraph again ... the phoenix suns, who i had joked about "having to root for" now that nash was on board, are enjoying nba history's second greatest beginning to a season. what's going on?!

simple: steve nash is the heart of any team he joins, and any team will improve dramatically with him handling the ball. mark cuban's "the benefactor" was a mistake of catastrophic proportions, but i'm betting that letting nash go will end up just as horrifying for the mavericks. watch a game, watch him work the floor, watch him make things happen, and one could argue that he is the most valuable player on his team, whoever that team may be, and one could even argue that he's the mvp of the league. enter yours truly.

steve nash is, by far, the frontrunner for the nba's most valuable player. yet as i say this, i can almost hear the snickering coming from those that know me best, laughing off this ridiculous statement as another jokingly overzealous comment about my favorite player. but credible sources are starting to pay attention ...

when checking up on his latest stats, i stumbled across one of the most passionate sports op pieces i've ever read. the article not only accurately sums up the worth of steve nash, but identifies him with a time and place where basketball isn't about muscle bound ogres with extra y chromosomes or selfish bastards who can't even get along with others, let alone play with them. the article speaks of a purer sport, where the concept of team still exists, making it greater to watch, but more importantly, greater to play. steve nash exemplifies this purity more than any other player in the league; he is the rudy of today's basketball world; he proves that tenacity, vigor, and nothing short of true heart is still the formula of a champion; he is an example to future players in how his pass-first mentality makes everyone on his team a better player; he is an inspiration to all the little guys who have had the odds stacked against them, and yet they rise to the challenge and excel; quite simply, he is the hero for anyone who has ever been playing in the driveway by themselves, driven to the hole with mere seconds left on the imaginary clock, and lacking in the ability to dunk, fired up a turn around jumper and a prayer.

congratulations to the phoenix suns, currently basketball's best team. and here's to steve nash--truly, an inspiration to us all. all i want for christmas is an MVP award for the man who deserves it.

(again, here's the link to the article. read it, reflect, and join me in dreaming of a basketball revolution)

... on the shoulders of giants, my ass

2004-12-21T23:15:00.000-08:00

the wheel. agriculture. euclid's elements. michaelangelo's david. newton's principia mathematica. einstein's theory of relativity. all considered to be human thought at its highest quality; all are the purest examples of the essence of man's inherent desire to create, innovate, and revolutionize the world. these historical giants have remained unmatched throughout society ... but there now exists another: i recently unearthed a treasure so truly magnificent that it makes the aforementioned accomplishments seem like fingerpaintings and macaroni pictures composed by bronze medalists in the special olympics.

ladies and gentlemen, behold the truest form of perfection ever acheived by humanity: feast your eyes upon the unadulterated glory that is Oakes Films Limited. watch their latest masterpiece, "A Day in the Life of Scott Davis", step out of the cave, and realize everything you once knew was merely a shadow, for the life-changing revolutionaries at Oakes Films Limited are most assuredly gods among mere mortals.

the critics agree:

"a most accurate portrayal of the quintessential human plight! it's almost unbelievable how accurately existence as we know it was completely exposed! mindblowing!!"
--the new york times

"i laughed, i cried, i loved it. what a journey!"
--me

"... oh my god, oh my god, oh my god ..."
--the proletariat

"i must tip my hat, for i have been bested"
--jesus christ

notafinga!

2004-12-21T17:04:00.000-08:00

so i've been called out for starting every one of my posts with the word "so", but i like it, and will continue. it helps to create a feeling of interaction and closeness with my many readers, as if we're hanging out in a bar somewhere, and i just returned from a beer run or stepped outside to pee on someone's car

...

so i'm trying to purchase a toboggan yesterday (or a beanie, for "youse guys" above the mason-dixon line), and i go to walmart. guess what: you can't buy solid color toboggans for a dollar at walmart anymore. nope, those days are over. now you have to pay ten bucks and you get to choose between big ass skulls all over it or a ridiculous starter logo. thanks walmart, you've really got a nice grasp of the fashion industry, and you're selling exactly what's hip today. and by hip, i mean incredibly uncool ... and by today, i mean 1997. nice try losers.

the reason i wanted the toboggan was to keep my ears fashionably warm during a bonfire/drink-a-thon for charity that lee mcalilly through in the highland circle park behind his house. though intentions were noble, i fear the charity actually lost money from the event, because the only people present were a bunch of broke college students who showed up for the free booze. if nothing else, it was a great excuse to see everyone, shake hands, realign with old cliques, and talk bad about others, all while acquiring frostbite on that numb yet dedicated hand selected to hold one's beer for the night.

its that time again! not for opening presents, nor singing carols, nor spending time with family, nor getting drunk and playing grabass with your second cousin under the mistletoe. nay, all of these are mere distractions from what truly matters this christmas. of course, i'm referring to the man who opened his heart to set us free; the one who so dramatically let us share his experience, so that we could grow as a people; the man who so eloquently inspired all of us to seek first all that is righteous. the reason for the season: ... ralphie parker, and his trusty peacemaker, the red ryder carbine action 200-shot range model air rifle.

the christmas story has always remained an integral part of my christmas experience, and i could french kiss ted turner and his television network for implementing what i think is the greatest thing to happen for christmas since the death of santa claus back in '89: the 24 hour christmas story marathon. it was the least mr. turner could do after involving himself with the atlanta braves, the billy baldwin of the national league. may all your christmas' be white, tnt, and may all your stockings be filled with napoleon dynamite dvd's and multiple concubines.

narrator: "only one thing in the world could've dragged me away from the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window ..."

narrator: "meanwhile, i struggled for exactly the right bb gun hint. it had to be firm, but subtle ..."
ralphie: "flick says he saw some grizzly bears near pulaski's candy store"

narrator: "we plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice."
old man parker: "didn't i get a tie this year?"

narrator: "now it was serious. a double-dog-dare! what else was there but a "triple dare ya"? and then, the coup de grace of all dares, the sinister triple-dog-dare."
schwartz: "i triple-dog-dare you!"
narrator: "schwartz created a slight breach of etiquette by skipping the triple dare and going right for the throat!"

narrator: "with as much dignity as he could muster, the old man gathered up the sad remains of his shattered major award. later that night, alone in the backyard, he buried it next to the garage. now i could never be sure, but i thought that i heard the sound of "taps" being played ... gently."

insomnia ... not just a chris nolan film

2004-12-16T23:53:00.000-08:00

and again i find myself awake in bed, unable to fall asleep at two in the morning, with absolutely no reason to be awake. school's out, and i have an incredibly easy life right now, so it can't be stressed induced. all i know is this is new to me, and it sucks.

i feel ya, big guy. i feel you.

lemons, lemonade, and frozen awesome

2004-12-16T19:41:00.000-08:00

so i spent an exciting day in my old stomping grounds--tupelo, ms. i went and hung out with stu and others for a few nights, which is always good times. tuesday night we went to church, a.k.a. rebelanes, for my first bowling experience in quite some time. after a couple of warm up games to get the dust off, i rolled a 186 ... not too shabby. then we went and had a few beers with some more of the guys at the stables, got back, and stu kicked my ass in mariokart 64. something about "power turns" that i just don't get; anyway, it wasn't pretty.

i returned to oxford, and have been just hanging out here with nothing to do. i started to clean up today, did a little laundry, etc. i've been royally bored this whole thursday with ... ahem ... no one to hang out with. sigh, i got stood up. but lemons into lemonade and such, so preston and i went to see ocean's twelve, and i don't want to ruin it for anyone, but believe it or not, there's a twist at the end! ... (she dies)

tentative tour de tejas III: frozen awesome calendar:

[all dates represent nights of, and are subject to change]
dallas: january 3rd and 4th
austin: january 5th
san antonio: january 6th, possibly 7th
houston: possibly january 7th, january 8th, possibly january 9th

as you can see its a very rough draft, but if you're reading this, would like to hang out in one of the above towns on the specified dates, and are moderately good-looking with a zest for life, then feel more than welcome to contact me (currently accepting housing invitations for all cities but dallas)

so far, possible companions on the tour include mr. stuart davis and ms. mary maliff (application pending). if you'd like to be a passenger on tour de tejas III: frozen awesome, then you'll need to complete a response to one of the following two essays (500 words or less):

1) what qualities do you possess that make you worthy of being an integral part of such a historically significant event? in what areas could you stand to make improvements? exactly what would a seat in the ford explorer of freshness mean to your life?

2) prove carefully the homomorphism theorem that if G, G' (G prime) are groups, and if the mapping phi: G->G' is a homomorphism onto G' with kernel K, then G ~= G/K, the isomorphism being affected by the map psi: G/K->G' defined by psi(Ka)=phi(a), where a is an element of G.

all applications must be received on or before 12/31/2004. completed applications, as well as letters of reference can be sent to rbhall@olemiss.edu

note: space inside the ford explorer of freshness is limited, but there will be no discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin, in accordance with title VII of the civil rights act of 1964. however, there will most certainly be discrimination based on cleanliness, hygeine, cd collection, gas cards, and overall demeanor and attitude.

the boy scout cookies: world heroes of rock

2004-12-12T19:31:00.000-08:00

it seems that of all the questions i get from my millions of readers, the most popular is exactly who are the boy scout cookies?

wonder no longer, america, and meet the boy scout cookies:

the inspekta -- frontman, vocals, tamborine
mr. concept -- drums, percussion
joe the ocean -- bass
benvolio van novo -- guitar, vocals, harmonica

for a picture of 3/4 of the bsc, hanging with their friend, confidente, and main influence andrew wk, and to listen to their smash hit single "morse code message" check them out at their interim official site

naturally, the bsc is on tour, and you can catch them at 6:30 sharp, dec. 28, on the main stage of the white rabbit, world renowned for its role in jump starting the careers of some of history's greatest face rockers

some fans had this to say:

"when I hear the music, i can only think of one thing i wanna do...thrash...i just want to thrash around."
-- j. baumann

"its like pouring a bowl of jello into your shorts; it feels strange at first, but in the end, you're glad it was there"
-- t. hansen, baller extraordinaire

well there you have it. from small beginnings, these four overcame all the adversities of suburb mundaneness to produce music that absolutely rocks your face off. in the humble opinion of yours truly, these guys wail so hard that they make all other music look like child pornography.

roll up! roll up for the mystery tour!

2004-12-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

so i've been hassled a few times for "neglecting my blog" as of late (hayley: "slacker"), but i had to devote every waking hour to try and salvage an academically shitty semester. but i'm back, and i have wonderful news: this post is the first of many to come using my brand new kickass apple ibook. awesome, i know, but there's a tiny problem: i haven't learned how to do links yet, so no funny pictures until i can figure it out. [update: until i figure out, i can edit my posts on my old pc, so i'll try and keep the links coming]

in other news, i'm on a massive beatles kick. we've been watching the anthology, and i just outfitted my brand new kickass apple ibook with every beatles album. also, now that school is over, my time is being devoted to a number of things, one of which is to try and write a script for a movie preston and i want to make. what's it about? well, herein lies the problem. all we know is that we'd like to make a movie this week. other than that, we've got pretty much a clean slate, and its kinda on me to come up with at least a premise. if anyone has any ideas (i'm looking at you, bsc) then let me know, and i'll be sure and give you props in the credits. i've contacted an expert, though, and i think i've coerced rachel into helping me. she's a seasoned vet of playwright, and i'm sure everyone remembers the classic "big kahuna butt" scene that was written for her 5th grade odyssey of the mind team. unadulterated genius.

we're hoping to start production on tuesday, but you know how these things work. rome wasn't built in a day, and i'm pretty sure michaelangelo's "david" wasn't created on a deadline. so lay off me sundance, otherwise i'll take my film elsewhere.

i have some more interesting news: apparently, i've been working on a novel, and it is now completed and published! as far as i can tell from the first three chapters, its a coming of age novel about an adolescent girl, saskia. don't believe me? just google me (brian hall) and check out the first hit. here's an excerpt:

"In the barn, Marilyn lumbers, steaming, to her feet, the back up first on splayed legs, the udder swaying hugely. Saskia dumps a scoop of pellets in the trough and shovels muck into the bin, then squats to rub the furry udder, coaxing the coo into letting down. Marilyn never lies in her own muck. She is a good coo with a clean udder, a pleasure to rub. Saskia works white ointment into the rear teats, and the udder veins bulge, the teats swell. She fires into the bucket a long sequence of pump-action double barreled blasting. She has the strongest hands of anyone in her grade."
-- The Saskiad, by Brian Hall

go ahead and check out the reader reviews, but the best review by far was rachel's: "wow, you really get women"

cingular: the epic tale

2004-12-04T20:29:00.000-08:00

three weeks ago: my mom and i are in the cingular store in memphis, paying bills and tweaking accounts when the guy at the counter, mempihs clerk #1, looks up my number and comments "hey, you're eligible for an upgrade." sweet, i think to myself, and i look around and pick out which phone i might like to have. i settled on the motorola V551, which was going for an upgrade price of $99. memphis clerk #1 was cool.

two weeks ago: my current phone starts to get really bad, so i check the cingular website, and sure enough, it confirms that my account is eligible for an upgrade.

one week, four days ago: i call the cingular customer service phone number, and do the long and frustrating dance with their automated response ("if calling about an existing account, press 1 ... "). 15 minutes into the call, i finally get to ask my simple question: if i go to the cingular store in town to get a new phone, can they bill the cost of the phone to my account? customer service representative #1 replies: "yes." customer service representaive #1 was nice.

one week, three days ago: i go to the local cingular store in oxford to pick up a new phone, planning on letting them bill my account. the motorola v551 is now $149, with a $50 mail-in rebate. after oxford clerk #1 brings up my information (take note of this), he says that i am elible for an upgrade, and i can get the new phone, but since they were recently an at&t store, and they haven't worked out all the kinks from the merger yet, they're not allowed to bill me for the phone. he says i needed to have an account with them for at least 6 months. understandingly, i leave, planning to return when i have the money. oxford clerk #1 was very nice.

4 days ago: i get money.

3 days ago: now that i have money, my mom tries to go pick up a phone for me at the memphis cingular store. memphis clerk #2 tells her that i am eligible for an upgrade, but if i get the phone in memphis, tn (another state), then i'll have to change my phone number. no dice, she says. i'll just let my son get it in oxford. i dont really know about mempis clerk #2.

yesterday, 3:00 pm: kelso and i journey to the quite busy cingular store in oxford. after waiting in an ambigous "line" for 15 minutes (i got cut twice) i get to the counter:
oxford clerk #2: "how can i help you?"
me: "hi, i'm here to purchase a new phone"
oxford clerk #2: "do you have cingular or at&t?"
me: "cingular."
oxford clerk #2: "you can't get one here."
me: "what?! i came in last week, and was told that not only can i buy a new phone, but i'm eligible for the upgrade deal, but that you guys just couldn't bill the phone to my account."
oxford clerk #2: "no, see we used to be at&t, and we're not quite set up to activate cingular phones or deal with cingular accounts. you'll have to go to tupelo."

[i think it important at this time to give a mental image of the oxford at&t store: the walls are orange, with the cingular logo (stick figure guy) painted all over the place. the carpet has the logo on it. there's tons of cingular signs and cingular brochures everywhere. all the phones for sale have the cingular logo on them, and the workers themselves have on cingular shirts and cingular nametags.]

oxford clerk #2 was a total dick.

yesterday, 4:00 pm: i get home, frustrated, and call the cingular customer service line. after going through the automated system (approx. 4-5 mins), i get to hold for a customer representative, with an estimated wait time of ten minutes. keep in mind that i have no landline, so the entire time i'm on hold on my cell phone, they're making money. seven minutes into my ten minute wait, my call gets dropped. oh wow.

yesterday, 4:45 pm: i try again, this time finally getting in touch with a human being after 10-15 minutes. customer service representative #2 looks up my account information, and assures me that i am indeed eligible for an upgrade. she also tells me that she's not sure about the oxford store's capability to activate a new phone for me, but he should have at least looked up my information, taken my name and number, and provided more information. i told her that i was planning on going to tupelo to try and get the phone, and asked her if she could assure me that it would be hassle free. she says that everything will go smoothly, and even writes a little note on my account information, saying that i'm eligible for an upgrade, and i'm planning on getting it tomorrow in tupelo. customer service representative #2 was very nice.

today, 12:15 pm: kelso and i made the hour long drive to tupelo, and had lunch at china capital. we headed over to the cingular place, near the mall, and fought hellacious tupelo traffic to finally get a spot. inside the cingular store, we have to sign in to be waited on, and it takes 15-20 minutes to finally get my turn. i tell tupelo clerk #1 that i want to get a new phone and i'm eligible for the upgrade sale price. he looks at my account, and quickly tells me that i am, in fact, not eligible. oh shit. i tell him that i've been told on at least 3 separate occasions that i am. he tells me that i last renewed my contract in january 2004 (which is true), and that my 2 years has to run out before i can get a phone upgrade. i ask him to read the notes on the account and he says that its a mistake, and there's nothing he can do until my 2 year contract runs out. i can buy a phone, but not at the sale price. a motorola v551 at regular price costs $299. i leave, only to get reimmersed in the hellacious traffic and almost get hit by a dumb old lady running a red light. tupelo clerk #1 was a total dick.

today, 1:30 pm: i go to kelso's house to use his landline, because my phone doesn't work at all anymore. after 22 minutes of waiting, i get customer service representative #3, who is incredibly slow at checking my account information. our entire conversation is littered with silences and holds that average about 90 seconds, as she looks up things. she tells me that i am eligible for an upgrade! i tell her that tupelo clerk #1 said that i wasn't, because my renewed contract hasn't run out. she says that's true, but the computer says that i'm eligible, and she can't really explain why. i tell her that i'm going to another tupelo store, and i'm not leaving without a new phone at the sale price, and she leaves more notes on my account saying that i am indeed eligible. customer service representative #3 was nice, but inept.

today, 2:25 pm: i go to another branch of cingular and am greeted with a sign in sheet on which the next blank spot isn't even on the front page. i find a comfortable chair, and after fifteen minutes, i give kelso permission to leave with my car, vowing that i'll call him on my new phone when its time to pick me up. thirty-five minutes after that, kelso returns to find that i haven't moved. the overall wait time was exactly one hour and twenty minutes. when i arrive at the counter i catch my first break in the whole process: tupelo clerk #2 is a girl i knew from high school, who used to have a crush on me. she pulls up my account information as i tell her the story, and she agrees that the computer says i'm eligible for an upgrade, even though i have a current contract. meanwhile, a guy who had been waiting on the list after me is now being helped by another clerk, and its not going well. she won't trade out his broken phone for a new one, because he doesn't have the box with him. he loses it--completely freaks out--and on his way out the door, he yells you people are a bunch of idiots to sit here and let them take advantage of you like this! cingular sucks! they fucking suck, and even if they were trying to suck, they couldn't suck worse then they do right now! tupelo clerk #2 and i get much needed comic relief from the scene, and she continues to work on my account. she calls nationals, but while on hold, we start to talk and she says that i should swing by this christmas party she's going to tonight. "it'll be fun ... give me a call," she says, and i respond with an incredibly suave, "hey, i'd love to, but i'm gonna need a new phone." (no joke, bond himself would've been proud of how well that line came out) she laughs, hangs up while still on hold, and tells me that if the computer says i'm eligible, then i'm eligible, and brings out a brand new motorola v551 ...

today, 3:58 pm: tupelo clerk #2 sold me a motorola v551 for the upgrade price of $149. booyah!

[i do hereby pledge that none of the above events are imagined, embellished, or falsified in any way, shape, form or fashion.]

on a lighter note ...

2004-12-02T15:24:00.000-08:00

after the previous post, i began to worry that people would think i was a heartless, opinionated asshole. so i've provided this picture of a funny dog. left or right, i think everyone can agree that this is hilarious:

such poise, such grace. and look how furry he is!

stand tall, little guy.

mission accomplished and the christian right

2004-12-02T13:37:00.000-08:00

the take home final is done! it took an all-nighter tuesday night, and then i slept about 15 hours on wednesday. but i did what i had to do, and to use the parlance of our times, mission accomplished. oh, topical humor ... "its just like watching murphy brown!"

which brings me to a new issue (and my first online rant): i've been pretty vocal about my frustration and utter disdain for the outcome of our nation's recent elections. sure, in a democracy (or our republic), your guy doesn't always win, and i can understand the cause for celebration for those that view the world differently than i. your guy won, gloat all you want, but don't expect me not to dry heave in your general direction when you do.

however, on three separate occasions, i've come across bush supporters wielding scripture to condemn my voicing of dissatisfaction. i'm guessing that there's some blanket email going out to all the baptist churches, teaching everyone this cool new bible verse that they can allude to, anytime someone has something negative to say about the president:

"let every person be in subjection to the governing authorities. for there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God. therefore, he who resists authority has opposed the ordinance of God; and they who have opposed will receive condemnation upon themselves."
-- Romans 13:1-2

oh, ok! cool, i get it now, i need to get on board, lest i be condemned. funny know one told me about this verse during the glory years. even so, i think i'll take my chances. why not? the company of dissenters is pretty nice. for starters, apparently none of our founding fathers read the book of Romans, otherwise we'd still be enjoying warm tea through our bad teeth. who knew all those revolutionaries we know and love were nothing but dirty sinners? kinda kills that whole "america was founded on christian ideals" argument, eh christian right?

ghandi = sinner ... who knew? and we really dodged a bullet with the civil rights movement. clearly, martin luther king wasn't much of a bible reader, and i think most people would agree that it worked in our favor. also, i think the protestants can get on board with me when i say that its a glorious thing martin luther spent too much time writing theses to read his bible cover to cover, otherwise i could still score myself some back-to-school indulgences. come to think of it, almost every single act that permanently shapes a nation, or a people, or a religion, or a society as a whole has been met with opposition from the authorities of that time.

so get off my back with the scripture, can we? especially verses so contradictory and hypocritical that it makes you look like a fool. just be happy (and maybe even humble?) that your poster boy fought off the moving vans, but don't hint at me that i can't say my piece.

besides, jesus himself was a pretty revolutionary dude.

(p.s. still don't agree? then keep reading, republicans ... a few verses later it says you have to pay taxes. such is the word of God.)

modern algebra final, due 8 a.m.

2004-11-30T16:07:00.000-08:00

well shit. my semester of leisure is finally catching up with me--i arrived at work a few minutes late today, only to find a desolate tutoring lab. normally these are great days, and being this close to finals, i was ecstatic. but then i noticed adam, a fellow tutor, working diligently on some seemingly random assignment:

me: "whatcha working on?"
adam: [looks at me like i'm retarded] "uh, the final ... in modern algebra ... a class that you are supposedly enrolled in."
me: "i thought he was giving it out tomorrow morning, and it was due next week?!"
adam: "nope. its due tomorrow morning, 8 a.m. ... you picked a shitty day to skip class."

hooray for me, looks like i've got my night planned. in other news, i'm pretty sure the republican girl that sits next to me in my economics class called me a faggot today, because i wore a thermal underwear shirt under a cardinals t-shirt. i should do laundry, i know, but no need for hitler to have a klan meeting right in the middle of class. bitch.

finally, it appears that federal magistrate jerry davis will not be making an appearance at tuesday night trivia tonight. jer, an accomplished trivia buff and father of scott and stu davis (surely you remember his infamous death row ruling?), was slated to meet us at two stick tonight, so team doodoo could finally put a tally in the win column, but he phoned in sick. its just as well, because i should be at home working on a take home final anyway. there's always next tuesday.

where a kid can be a kid

2004-11-29T20:29:00.001-08:00

oh no, its not a joke. kelso and i met up with cole and his little nephew cade to enjoy a few beers and buffalo wings in memphis. we decided to head over to the local chuck e. cheese's (not to be confused with chuckie cheese's) for a little fun and games, 3 year old style. turns out they serve beer, but better yet, every game is one token, including the machine that draws your picture:

kelso wants you ... to get him another four dollar beer

kickin' it bueller style

2004-11-29T20:29:00.000-08:00

another pic from our day off--ferris would've been proud. i kid you not, this is 100% unadulterated happiness on my face. and no, that's not a beer, that's my token cup, full of tickets that i won and later gave to a little kid to cap off an incredible afternoon.

note the kickass border, and the dumbass grin

where is my mind?

2004-11-29T13:01:00.000-08:00

say i want to purchase myself a new ibook, because apple computers are superior. now remember, i'm poor, and need to finance one, but am unable to do so because i have no credit:

"after reviewing the available information, we regret that we are unable to open your account for the following reasons: insufficient credit history"

i was always under the impression that these bastards were foaming at the mouth to get young lads like me in some serious debt, but in order to get credit, you must already have credit. quite the vicious little cycle. maybe tyler durden was right after all?

aaron's jarty

2004-11-28T17:39:00.000-08:00

... so i understand these things are supposed to be therapuetic? what the hell, i'll try my hand at blogging. besides, i could use the breeze through my hair as i sit high atop the bandwagon.

oh, the holidays ... so bittersweet. school being out vs. time with step-family. imagine a thanksgiving with mom, her husband and fifteen senior citizens you've never met before, in a house that reeks of metamucil, and no turkey! hey, thanks for the wonderful thanksgiving ham ... just like the pilgrims. maybe after we finish up, we can go eat hamburgers at baseball games, and drink white zinfadel with big juicy steaks. dumbasses.

the weekend, however, was a blast. we won the egg bowl, tyler got drunk off a pitcher of beer, kelso almost fought a guy in the bar, cole was stalked by a random girl, and we played a bit of beer pong.

but the news of the weekend is that the boy scout cookies, a band of former campers from san antonio, not only had a jarty this weekend (a jean party, to the layperson), but did so at an aaron carter concert, and was complimented by the man himself. keep rocking, bsc.