The good news is that it's only been a little less than 3 months since i last posted.

i'm listening to jazz music.

good to see you all again.

I'm addicted to the song "Black Betty" by Ram Jam at the moment. I know that there's a little window at the bottom of the page that can let me say that, but I don't think that would get the point across. I LOVE this song. You know that's no lie.

The other day someone broke into my car.

I was chatting on the phone with my parents as I walked to my ( Read more... )

Oh heeeeeeellz yeah.

Right now, you might be reading this thinking, "Huh. This is too late to be of any help. Valentine's Day is over, and any of the sweet, sweet benefits that could be derived from its occurence have long since passed. SOMEBODY dropped the ball."

If you are thinking this, then yes. Someone dropped the ball.

And that someone was you.

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Before I actually launch into this rant, it's important that I make a few points, the most import being that I have a hard time concentrating on work and music on the same time when the music is decent.  The only way to have a small musical distraction when I'm working on homework  is by turning on music that has no content or redeeming value.

That' ( Read more... )

First, mom went up against me.

Then, it happened again.

Now: Danny?

Danny just got surgery on his knee (send him flowers and candy), and is on percocets, so he has nowhere to be but in front of the computer.  This is the horrifying result.  He did a little re-punning, but i think that's acceptable.  i'm pretty sure he just forgot that we had used them ( Read more... )

Some of the most advanced architecture on the planet comes from the deserts of Egypt.  Huge monoliths of stone and fancy pyramids loom in the sky, blocking the sun and, overall, being heavy and impressive.

But what are the pyramids?  Are they the remains of a civilization that worshiped triangles and three-dimensional prisms?  Are they huge stone ( Read more... )

“This traffic is ri-donkey-lous,” Doug muttered.  Cars crept bumper to bumper along Route 95.

“Roll down the window,” Jeff said, squinting into the bright sun before them.  “I think I hear sirens.”
            “Me too,” Brian said, leaning forward from the back seat of the Mustang.  They were his first words in so much time.  ( Read more... )