Blog 83: Say It Ain't Blog
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Current Light: Incandescent
Greetings, I am Space Ghost.
However untrue that may be I offer you salutations anyway. I looked over my review of the new "Weezer" album today and after a few more wincing listens to the album itself I realize that I still wouldn't change a word of it. The review that is. I'd change every word of Make Believe, especially "and you show up late for school / cause you think you're really cool when you're... on drugs" and "you put on your headphones / and you step into the zone when you're... on drugs"
As The Frigg!! and I agreed earlier whilst listening and grimacing to the album: Because we love Weezer, we hate this album.
It's ok though, we popped in Pinkerton right afterwards and it was like sweet pink Calamine Lotion on a dry itchy mosquito bite. And right now I'm grooving to the mellow sounds of "Say It Ain't So". The contrast is jarring.
Anyway, enough about formerly great nerd bands and their latter day sins. For memorial day I'll be heading back up to P-Town for some family R&R and I get to pay $75 to have some old guy run his tape measurer up the inside of my leg till he taps my beanbag with his knuckle. That's right, it's tux time. The Hoff is getting himself hitched in 1 month and one week and I have to look like Bond for a day cause I's in the weddin'. It's ok though, maybe I'll look so dashing that all the hot single bridesmaids will want to measure my inseam, too. Maybe not.
It will be nice to see my dad again, it's been over 3 months since I saw him up at Sunriver for his birthday weekend and it's always a blast hanging out with him and my brothers. IHOP is on the agenda plus Domino's pizza because, as I've noticed, I haven't had a Domino's pizza in 10 months. Considering that for that same span of time prior I ate that pie 3 meals a day, every day, I'd say it's about time I reintroduce my stomach to the glory that is generic fast food pizza. I look forward to the drive up, as I always do, because it gives me time to listen to all those hundreds of CDRs floating around my car. Though I usually only have time for 8 albums or so. Some people hate to drive, especially for 6 hours at a time with no potty breaks, but I've always loved it. When I was in college it was a straight 8 hours from Nampa to Hillsboro and about 5 hours of it was ugly brown wasteland, but the other 3 hours were great; mountains and stuff. Anyway, I don't mind taking long car trips, I'd drive all day and night if someone paid me to. I'd be a trucker if I didn't suck so bad at maneuvering trailers, and if I didn't hate trucker hats so much. But like lots of other jobs there's always the fantasy of haphazard porn falling in your lap, ie a car full of hot college coeds breaks down and ask for a ride and offer to fulfill your wildest dreams as compensation. I had these same thoughts when I was a pizza delivery driver. All I have to do now is be a cable guy, a pool man, a plumber and a volleyball coach and I can become wholly disenfranchised with the entire "lucky workin' man" mythos that porn portrays. It's really unfair. Or maybe I just need to find a decent wood nymph, I mean girl, to date.
Greetings, I am Space Ghost.
However untrue that may be I offer you salutations anyway. I looked over my review of the new "Weezer" album today and after a few more wincing listens to the album itself I realize that I still wouldn't change a word of it. The review that is. I'd change every word of Make Believe, especially "and you show up late for school / cause you think you're really cool when you're... on drugs" and "you put on your headphones / and you step into the zone when you're... on drugs"
As The Frigg!! and I agreed earlier whilst listening and grimacing to the album: Because we love Weezer, we hate this album.
It's ok though, we popped in Pinkerton right afterwards and it was like sweet pink Calamine Lotion on a dry itchy mosquito bite. And right now I'm grooving to the mellow sounds of "Say It Ain't So". The contrast is jarring.
Anyway, enough about formerly great nerd bands and their latter day sins. For memorial day I'll be heading back up to P-Town for some family R&R and I get to pay $75 to have some old guy run his tape measurer up the inside of my leg till he taps my beanbag with his knuckle. That's right, it's tux time. The Hoff is getting himself hitched in 1 month and one week and I have to look like Bond for a day cause I's in the weddin'. It's ok though, maybe I'll look so dashing that all the hot single bridesmaids will want to measure my inseam, too. Maybe not.
It will be nice to see my dad again, it's been over 3 months since I saw him up at Sunriver for his birthday weekend and it's always a blast hanging out with him and my brothers. IHOP is on the agenda plus Domino's pizza because, as I've noticed, I haven't had a Domino's pizza in 10 months. Considering that for that same span of time prior I ate that pie 3 meals a day, every day, I'd say it's about time I reintroduce my stomach to the glory that is generic fast food pizza. I look forward to the drive up, as I always do, because it gives me time to listen to all those hundreds of CDRs floating around my car. Though I usually only have time for 8 albums or so. Some people hate to drive, especially for 6 hours at a time with no potty breaks, but I've always loved it. When I was in college it was a straight 8 hours from Nampa to Hillsboro and about 5 hours of it was ugly brown wasteland, but the other 3 hours were great; mountains and stuff. Anyway, I don't mind taking long car trips, I'd drive all day and night if someone paid me to. I'd be a trucker if I didn't suck so bad at maneuvering trailers, and if I didn't hate trucker hats so much. But like lots of other jobs there's always the fantasy of haphazard porn falling in your lap, ie a car full of hot college coeds breaks down and ask for a ride and offer to fulfill your wildest dreams as compensation. I had these same thoughts when I was a pizza delivery driver. All I have to do now is be a cable guy, a pool man, a plumber and a volleyball coach and I can become wholly disenfranchised with the entire "lucky workin' man" mythos that porn portrays. It's really unfair. Or maybe I just need to find a decent wood nymph, I mean girl, to date.
Justin expelled a blog at 8:39 PM
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