Fyodor's Fiddling's

Suffice it to say I, historically, am not one to put things off because of unpleasantness. Save having to buy the last Alkaline Trio album. Back through the ravages of time I can often recall with vivid clarity wading into uncomfortable moments just for the sheer (perverse) thrill of being somewhere, socially, I wasn't supposed to be. That being said there are certain moments, common to everyone, that are so gigantically socially prostrating that I think you could prefer a literal prostration ( although I suppose that would depend greatly on the quality of said prostration).

Without a doubt this purple headed beast is the request for letters of recommendation. Not unlike walking on an icy pond to get to the other (filled with co-eds bouncing) side of the water obtaining letters recommending yourself is quite the delicate and intense business.

Maybe not for you, and if so screw you/congrats. For me though, I have spent the better part of my educational career sitting in back rows letting those students (whom see to be breeding) that like to hear their own voice ask questions and toss around conjecture that can only live in undergraduate classes at liberal arts institutions (although the discussion of Fyodor as a firemen was enlightening). While, necessary to educational discourse, I guess, I have always (due to one part elitism, three parts fear) have tried to maintain above the fray choosing instead to text message girls thongs escaping from their pant lines in the rows ahead of me...and FYI it's like shooting underwear in a barrel.

As you might guess though, when underwear is your central classroom preoccupation, it leaves some leg work to be done on the professorial side of recommendations. Needless to say any letter that has to begin " I was a student in your Econ 382 class..." is an uncomfortable idea, which might be the chief reason I do it drunk and with no revisions.

But, as much as I might like to fancy myself troubled and with pain, I can't help but think about how silly the fear of rejection in this instance is. Not only, in contrast with people, say, starving in Rwanda, but furthermore I have seen most of these professors ENGAGE in Fyodor: Firemen conversations, soooooo at least i know my letter isn't the most inane thing they've done today (a record I generally hold for most people).

Still, it's not just any blind ambition that led me to these conclusions. No, it's many generations of class idlers whose shoulders, or cell phones rather, I now stand upon. Now, clearly the lesson of this story would be strive to foster relationships with those people who can help you down the road. However, as these relationships would also clearly be fake in so much as they exist only for you to get something from them, allow me to suggest an alternative. T and A.

From what I understand not only does one get to actually enjoy the distribution of the T and A to various professor types but also one gets to use that in assorted black mail schemes to get grades higher and cheat on further tests. I see no downside.....Except the burn marks from the leather elbow patches, but I've had worse burning sensations.

Well, that's what's on the noodle at the moment and I beg of your forgiveness that today we didn't deal in the abstract, although..............what if Igor was a firemen? How would he react to today's societal shackles placed upon men of common employment?

Put that in your phone and text message it.

Cheers,
A.J.S.

A Scattered Hello.

G'day all,

Not to dabble too awful much in the banal but in the winter, specifically in Ohio, the earlier it gets dark, the shorter the days get it seems the more prone I seem to be to doing nighttime things. While this probably doesn't initially bother you, (and it should because it bothers me) it can really throw a mans rhythm off. Generally speaking its not altogether healthy to say, brush your teeth three times a night or wash your teddy bear twice an evening, and I'll thank you not to ask why he needs to be washed daily.

Those, however true, are my problems and, as was recommended to me earlier in the week, perhaps these blogs do seem to share a constant trend of subtle negativity. My immediate reaction was, unbelievably, one of disbelief, i guess that everyone thinks they know themselves and I fancy myself fairly positive (I have on transformer underooos on right now!) However, after haphazardly sifting through some blogs I believe i know why some could take that position. Rare is the blog that I compose that I don't think thru to a fault. In fact, on the reg, it's usually just sitting around, straight drewmode, and sometimes these idol fingers find their outlet in keystroke format. Perhaps too often. .......and I did notice how close idol fingers and stroke are together.

In these ramblings though, and maybe when it's just me taking highway 1 in the old gray matter, I don't often stop to ponder the beauty of a sunset, that's for conversation carried on between myself and someone I'm trying to impress/kiss. When dancing the dance we call blog, I seem to leave the engaging and happy untouched and deal more with the bad/challenging (for me) /observational (probably not)/hank azaria/ minutia, for better or for worse, and I think it's an outflow of my natural gift to infinitely overlook the good and move onto what I don't have a handle on, which could be a reason why I have, for the better part of ten years, tried to explain why they even made the movie Eddie.

Thus, I think that, after some thought, this would be my rebut: Negative no, Contemplative, hopefully yes. Self- Aggrandizing/Serving, always. Look out for "Top Ten Reasons Andrew Kicks Ass," hitting the Internet soon.



It feels as if the economy is poised to move one way or the other lately. I have always been a big believer in the Automotive and S&P being seminal indicators in general swings. I think that what some economists (see above: self serving) don't factor in is that America's economy is, at least to some degree, a young engine. More to that point, this engine was constructed on one premise, that is to say the robustness of this economy and country, was predicated on the large auto and other assembly oriented industries, being successful. That is what bred initial industrialization and generated middle class wealth. I look to these industries to be indicators then for two reasons.
1.) I believe in their numbers being reflective of how this country rolls (and if we don't pay no tolls we ain't eat no rolls)and.....
2.) I also believe that, in order for our country to stay buoyant an eventual shift must, in regards to market orientation, take place.
This economy is not centered on the dot com side. We still hold most wealth in classic industries. Thus, i watch the S&P to wonder when the dog will learn its new tricks. Which it must do, the economy, to no ones surprise, will re-orient itself or die.

Which of course begs the question (I guess) of what this new economy will look like. I, like CNN (and that pains me) seem to be a bit apprehensive at both the acclamation phase of the general public if this change does take place, AND a bit apprehensive if this change will ever occur. The race to the bottom for manufacturing costs, will (in the long long run at least) eventually bottom out. Pricing back IN American work and labor forces, what will the economy look like then? Who knows, but to get there we'll see fireworks first.


On another note I wanted to extend to the readership a true wish. Something I rarely do within these html walls (be true that is). A wish that someone explains to me the fervor over holiday shopping. I understand the need to get the ones you love gifts. Furthermore, I even understand at times it's necessary to get them lots of gifts. Despite this though, I still can't understand the frantic-ness out there. The mall looks like Clay Aiken was in the lobby.(Actually I'm not quite sure what that would look like, mix of vomit and sequins probably). I just don't understand the stress level. My vote if for assignment of headphones when you enter the mall pumping "Feliz Navidad," into your brain. Try stressing during that chorus and your more than likely a lost cause....oh and I want to wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heEaArrrttt. Feliz Navidad Motherfucker.

Turkey in the Dell

Yo,
Well it's been sometime since I rapped at you so I thought I'd shoot you a holler. If you don't remember me, my name's Tony and nothing much has changed since the last time I wrote you guys. Sure, Dave and Tom moved out, so that's one thing, but in my life, it seems like when one window shuts another door opens and that sure is what happened. My new roomate Steve is the best, or at least the best so far. Last week when the Festiva went down again (I know I'm still drivin' her, but the good times keep coming!) bam! there was Steve right there on I-80 picking me up in his Berreta so we could go get some another quart of oil. I'll tell you folks the Festiva keeps on ridin' but she's draining me dry!
But that's not the only thing that so great about Steve. Yeah sure, he likes to party as much as I do, but he isn't a guy who just crashes on your couch after a bash. Man, it was like every fucking time I was the one going around picking up the bottles after a party and Dave and Tom just slept on the couch and chair; watching the Two Girls a Guy and a Pizza Place re-runs. At least with Steve now he actually picks up his shit.
I know that isn't what you want to hear about though, and you know me, I'm always going to give you guys the skinny on whats happening to the T man. What happened with me and Arelene? Well that's though, if you guys remember I left you last time after I was on a stone cold chill with some RUSH playing co-pilot in the 'stiva. Well, shortly after I did that J on the side of the road I got a bit of a change of heart. I mean here I was 32, outside of town and freaked out because a girl wanted to be my girlfriend. I mean I asked myself, was the fucking good? and the answer was yes, yes it was. Then I asked myself, do i have to pay for shit? and the answer was no, no I didn't. So basically friends ol' Tony did a little bit of life math and noticed that T is up several good lays and down nada'. So I thought to myself "what the fuck"?
So once I get into town and get the electric tape to close up the hole in the fan belt, I drive straight over to Arlene's to sort this shit out. I get to her building and have to fight to get a parking spot, it's always like that ( I swear that someone swoops back for that spot by the truck before I get there every time),and once I finally find one I head on up to her floor. Now usually, when I go I call first but I'm about to formally attach myself to a woman so I just go the fuck up there.
I get to the door walk in and shes watching T.V., some shit about Egypt, wearing that Loony Tunes T-Shirt that she knows I think is hysterical. I tell her what I discovered during my cruise, at least what I discovered minus the poon-tang revelation, and then BANG before I know it we've screwed and she's asleep with me watching Night Court and sipping on a MGD. Maybe I'll get use to this.


With me life's been fairly okay and I'm sure it's been that way for you. It's taken me,the royal me, sometime to get back into blogging after a recent 'bout with the futility of communication, some bad reviews and an all to stocked mescaline/Nick Nolte buffet. Now though, with those things in the rear-view mirror, I have the ability to look forward and, let me tell you, the road is paved with kick ass blog entries soaked in the blood of my enemies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( I wish there was a way to write bullets shooting a things, maybe: t---------)

It is without a doubt interesting getting home for the holidays. It appears to be human nature not to accomplish things for self worth but perhaps accomplish things to bring them home with you for thanksgiving. Every Uncle and Cousin is rife with stories of competition bested and women won. The only truths that you really hear are shared by the older women over coffee discussing that "Brad really isn't doing all that well, in fact they think his wife is seeing somone else." A set of circumstances that never fail to amaze me, and sorry Brad, never catch me offguard.
It constantly seems the less important a thing is, the more important it would be to your grandmother. To test this theory (note, this experiment requires two sets of grandparents, if this isn't the case I'm sorry, but take solace in the reality that you could borrow most and they wouldn't know the difference) tell one set you've acheived Nirvana, tell them your soul is at peace and the universe makes perfect sense to you, you understand your presence.
Tell the other ones you got promoted at Goldman/Sachs.
See which one does what.

That being said, as I don't like to end posts on a sad note, I'm sure that most places grandparents are more cool than mine and less concerned with the material world. In fact I'm fairly sure grandparents like that live somewhere in the southwest. Family is an interesting construct.

I hope all you fans out there had an excellent Thanksgiving and truly settle on something better than cranberry sauce out of a can. At least mash that shit up before you serve it.
Savor the Day,
A.J.S.

Interesting Trivia-When was the first thanksgiving?---------------1621. Also the birthday of my grandparents. Funny how things work out.

Vandalizing the Vandal

Hey all,
It would seem this post needs a bit of a disclaimer at the beginning of it. At no point is any word, in any way, meant to be original or provoking in this blog, ever. Not only is everything I do or say a mimic or direct quote from something else, but I believe it was John Lennon whom said "there is nothing you can do that can't be done," so really I'm just flexing my philo-muscles. If one were to call me a hack, they would have to get in line.
It would also seem as if the haters in dark corners out there in the world (notably Dr. Robotnik) would like to see this blog fail. I can barely resist the urge to write about nothing but stock dividends and alternative fuel in order that I might sate the sadists but then, who wins? The answer would be America, but for my own frame of mind I'll have to keep on plugging. To those whom my writing has fallen at or below snuff, I offer my apologies, but I've said it before and I'll say it again. Come at me wrong one more time, and I'll bury one in your motherfucking brainstem.


Good, now that we got that out of the way we can talk lightly. It's difficult to understand exactly what might be going on out in the world. Negativity, hatred, my blog, Scary Movie 4; it is difficult for anyone to truly get a grasp, I would reason, on the ebbs and flows that run around us.
Which is why I think that Tuesday nights are soooo great. True, they have no appeal, but in that is magic. We are talking the blandest of the bland. Tuesdays make oatmeal look like, oatmeal, but that's the beauty. There is nothing expected out of a Tuesday or oatmeal for that matter. It's a mere survival day, and staring down the short end of another one I say, damn proudly, screw off hump day, applesauce Tuesdays are here to burn your house down (although its widely known Wednesday lives in a retirement community with Monday, but we won't concern ourselves with the particulars, I mean you've gotta crack some eggs right?)
In that pursuit I've been taking note and getting bloat, attending to matters that one could at worst call "astoundingly without drive," and at best be called " without merit whatsoever, who do you think you are really?, I mean a dog?" and, to answer what you must be thinking, it's been going pretty damn well.
Well that's about it for me, sorry for the short post but I had to respond to some startlingly negative press. Remember folks, this blog sucks. No if, and or butt, unless they're incorrectly conjugated/utilized.
Until next time,
Andrew

Raton-ment of Sins (Transgressed and otherwise)

Hello,
Hey there everyone and it's good to see you to, this week has been progressing for me quite nicely and I hope that same is the case for you, and if it wasn't, quit trying to bring me down. Your always doing that.
Introductions being what they are, and I hope you don't mind the slight insult, it's good to be at a computer blogging. Sometimes, as I have alluded to in other posts, things only seem right when you have html to bow and blow (specifically blow) to your every whim. I create fact and recoil fiction. I claim and I stutter aplenty both with equal weight. I write sins not tragedies. That is something that just doesn't happen in your everyday world. Nay, this blog is a lot like Boca Raton, you can hear claims that Amerigo Vaspuci invented the phonograph and it smells vaguely like death.
But enough pontification (note: there will be nothing but pontification from this point out) let us dive into the real matter and hue of this post. That beast is named, standardized testing. A necessary evil? Yes. The equivalent of a hepatitis infected crude brained substitute math teacher breathing on you? Perhaps. Either way it's not to pleasant and when one runs into it, preparation have to have been made. Therefore, in the pursuit of heeding my own advice I have poured a little into investing in the LSAT and we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, in subsequent blogs I can share the victory story of my conquering, but more likely I'll be begging for anyone out there on the wire to give me a job. Either way I'll be losing some dignity (implied there is EVERY lawyer joke you've ever heard).
Truthfully though, and beware readers truth can be an ugly thing in a blog dedicated to its opposite, the thing that really terrifies me, as vanilla as this sounds, is that it quantifies me. There, I said it. This test relegates me to number. With that comes several implications. First off, it validates Johnny Rivers (......and given you a number) which is loathsome, but mainly it concretely ties me to a relative value distinguishable from my peers. For instance, I may know (incredibly enough) someone who may out perform me on this test. Ipso facto, it reveals, with a certain degree of certainty, my ranking in the world. Which runs contrary to my life position thus far of rankings based on unintelligible scales of which I define the determinants and have perennially ranked number uno (it's a system based mainly on your store of jelly beans). As you can see, its a quite frightening proposition to switch systems now.
That is not to say though, that I'm absolutely going to law school. Right now, it sounded wise to take the test and so I'm doing it. In no small part because I have interests in doing it, but also because ( and I also have trouble admitting this as well) I really am not that interested at the moment in seein the Dilbert version of myself, no matter what the future paycheck may hold.
Well, now that I feel like I've exposed myself (figuratively, if I did literally you'd KNOW IT) I'd like to close with my actual thoughts on standardized testing.
Premise 1- There is almost no other way to gauge students on equal footing.
Response 1- Okay.
Premise 2- I hate it.
Response 2- I hate it and I wish I had more jellybeans.

Thanks for listening.
Cheers all,
A.J.S.

Hypodermic Hippo Hippie Hopeful

Yo,

It's with a renewed vigor that I come at y'all this time. Better buckle up, this motherfucker's about to get wild.
Actually I always want to start every blog off with that and never do, so now that it's done I guess I can move onto to other topics that don't involve calling the Andrones mother'a a fuck, but beware it is about to get wild.
So how have you been? I've been okay, although my typing skills seem to be somewhat deterioting. It's interesting, so much (actually very little) goes into this blog but it's something that you, the reader, might never be aware of. You know, the haphazard keystrokes, the indefinable love, the stopping to read Tom Tomorrow's new comic, all of this is the process in which you are, hopelessly and forever, in the dark about, is what makes this what it is.
However, I guess there is something that I could do about it. I suppose I could share what goes into a blog, but that, taking note from countless droning sitcoms, smacks of both Sabrina the Teenage Witch and bad ratings, and despite having both of those going on at this time I'm putting it into my personal manifesto to not reveal the Fountain of Blog Secrets. Sorry Squad de Leon.
That being said though, I suppose it brings me to the topic of today, city living. While admittedly Athens is no Gotham there is something to be mentioned regarding living in a place that neither has a front or backyard; or anything that might in any fashion resemble step by step (for you out there counting that's two TGIF references in this update so far, see if you can catch the previous one and I think I'll try and drop one more in). Chiefly, that something is difference. It's not huge, sometimes its barely noticeable, but just like the illuminated Miller Lite sign, glowing neon above your booth, it adds and detracts to your experience's without really leaving a lasting impression on the scene.
That is not to indicate at all, that there aren't some glaring impressionable differences. Most notably is the necessity of clothing. A certain disclaimer I feel is in order here. I have never, to my face, been labeled as anything close to an exhibitionist (although most times I fancy myself one, but it really just means I like pre-season football) but living in the the context of everyone else's "workaday," world means some things up front. First, pajamas are exposed. Whilst I've never been called an exhibitionist something that I have been called with a certain amount of regularity is a man whom doesn't exactly plan out his bedroom attire. What makes that important is that, and I'm sure I am not the only one out there, when there is a need to go out doors, to take the trash out for example, one must now be aware of the fact that you are in the middle of everyone else's day. What worked in the spaces and shadows of your bedroom, no longer cuts the mustard at 12 noon on a busy street. Sorry tickle me elmo but you're going to have to stay upstairs.

There are, of course, several other distinct drawbacks, but most of them have other positive sides. Yes there is the sounds of the outside world, but although I freely admit it would drive some people crazy (just so you know as I type this I just heard a man passing my window talking on the phone about how he has to take a piss) but for me, it makes me feel vital and connected. But then again, I do have notoriously low self esteem, but at least I have a tickle me elmo. In your face Christmas of 2001.

I suppose that's about all for now sports fan, but keeps your eyes and ears tuned. Stay Keen Jelly Bean.


A.J.S.

Predicated on Perchance

Dearest,
How goes it out there? I'm sure you can't complain much, after all you are reading this, and as no major slight against you, despite the obvious fact that your probably really really really enjoying reading this (put that issue of US weekly down) if your taking time to read this odds are your not exactly in the midst of a high pressure situation.With the notable exception of former Enron Exec. Ken Lay (did you know you shared blog readership with a felon, well you do, then he stopped reading. who do you killed him motherfucker?) That is not to say, however, that this blog can't be the aid for incredible stress situations. This blog is a tonic for the 98 pound weakling, a aid in domestic diplomacy and drivel all in one. In other words a lot like Jesse Jackson, but with less Palm Oil. Actually I take that back. With the exact same amount of Palm Oil.
Over here, the skies are of the clearest blue, and I've been doing a lot of a lot which is when people (me) seem to be the happiest. What I can comment on with almost complete certainty is the setting in which my latest exploits have happened. The summer backdrop here is rife with things that remind of you of summers past. Often I'm tempted to propose sleep overs and, get this, there is a sega genesis in my house. Further reinforcing the fact that my life, unto this point, has been almost complete regression. At least in the penis category, but I guess someone has to carry the unfortunate nickname of "fourth grader." I just wish it wasn't always so fucking accurate in the locker room, maybe instead the cafeteria or something.
I am constantly reminded this summer, despite the insular fun of campus, of the company I keep and how outside the normal practices of the general populous the're/we 're activities seem to be lately. That sentence was not meant as a particular affirmation of cool, but more of an analysis of behavior. Not everyone thinks that pre-season football is good excuse for whiskey but perhaps those people lack true determination, but whatever those feel good wieners would cite as the reason for our excess, I would argue I'm just trying to be a little more like Jimmy Page, and in the end, I think that's maybe what everyone should be trying to do. Baby, I'm rock and roll.

It seems, that where ever
It is,
People know
it.
Lacking any fundamental knowledge,
acknowledgement,
or rusted reason.
Really the acidic thing is
it's there.
and I know it
and you know it
and she really knows it.
tetanus shots often come on the rocks.


Cheers all,
A.J.S.

Oh the great fish.

Yo,
I know it's been sometime since I rapped at you but seeing as how I've had some car troubles I'm sure you can understand. I know everyone out there has a story out there like this, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to share mine with you. So there I was out there driving along in the festiva, god I love that car, and I was on this drive because Marsha (you remember her) kept telling me that I was her boyfriend. Cept the thing is I don't ever remember signing up for that. That's just when I come over though, on the phone it's usually a completely different story with her telling me to get me fuckin MGD out of her fridge and stay out of her lie. But then we'll both be over at Chris house, all messed up, and BLAMMO we're screwing again.
Either way I'm cruising and what should pop on but some fucking Queensryche, now that is a band, and seeing as how I couldn't think of any better riding music, I cranked it up and kept pushin on. Slammin tunes and after four beers can make a man not notice an odor but I sure could hear that sound, I knew it was the fucking radiator hose by the way it slapped harder every third time. So I pull over and as soon as I pop the hood I can tell, yup its ripped.
Now usually I carry a roll of duct tape in the fest for just this occasion but now I was remebering how Paul had, last time we were at Chris, tried to see if he could tape the Jenga thing together that he made and he didn't give me back my roll. So now I was really up the creek.
Although, many men would have given into despair, you readers know me, and thought it a perfect opportunity to fire up the bowl. So I walk over to the tree by the road and put fire to green. Still mainly thinking about Marsha, but mainly thinking about how the fuck IM going to get home......





Often times I wished my life stacked up something like this. Although it would seem at first glance Jim Anchower is hollow on the inside there is soemthing, I think, to be said for the man whose main priority in life I MGD. Although I would take issue with the man's beer choice, to the best of my reasoning show me a man that can put beer before anything and I'll show you a man who could survive a nuclear winter.
That, afterall, I think should be the true test of a man. True, some men have accumulated much material wealth, true others still have worked for a muscles the likes of which arguably surpass what nature intended, but all that melts away under threat of nuclear winter. The victor of that race is not the bright, nor the muscular nor the particularly good looking it is the man who can and willingly could drink rat piss.
Considered a repulsion by some and deft tactical training by others, this mindset is of the highest admiration. When and if there is nothing left, a man who has no floor, no sense of self, aside from feeling good and staying alive, will survive (Note the similarities that has to the sound tag of a movie).
Andrew, you might be saying, I understand your point, and your satire has left near paralyzed with laughter and stimulated my imagination to the point of inventing a new political system, but what about the chicks?
To that good sir I understand. To the average man, drinking rat piss would certainly lower your chances with the average women. However, it is these Herculean Vermin Imbibers whom stand the best chance. In this haphazardly thrown together scenario full of logic holes and half truths, THERE ARE NO OTHER MEN ON THE PLANET. THEIR SHEER TENACITY TO EXIST HAS LED TO THEM TO THE HOLY LAND. They are the last men on earth. In the land of the blind, the man with one eye is a king. So also it is with rat piss.

Until next time the is WKRP saying BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGER! (Johnny fever quote, recognize)

He ran away screaming, He thought I was a communist.

Hello there,
It's been difficult keeping up with the things that I fill my life with, as opposed to the things that actually fill my life, and I really haven't had much time for a blog or ending sentence fragments with prepositions. In fact, I haven't had much time for anything, save making that ill-fated Connie Chung song, my humblest apologies Maury, and I suppose my collective fan base has suffered(roses are in the mail). However, I throw myself at the mercy of your court. My musings have not ceased, in fact, they have probably grown in number (why just the other day I made the pithiest remark about Tim Russert's face looking like a Fanny), despite the lack of committing them to keyboard. The witticisms need to be kept for prosperities sake though, and I surely will not keep them from the great and rich life they so surely deserve, after all I am a liberal I let things live.
My boat hasn't been traveling all that far from the shore lately, but I've been tied down (see above) with things that have kept me homebound. Which brings up several questions to me. Chief among them is how I used to be able to get away so easily. I can't help but feel subject to all the inertia that kept the guy in Ground Hog day asking Bill if he needed any insurance. I live in constant fear of becoming that man(am I right, or am I right?). The longer I live though, the more I can't help but reason that living to a higher ideal perhaps is not completely avoiding and shirking the hurdles that are thrown at you by waking up every morning, but perhaps instead the ability to live in and through the means by which you eke out your living. It seems rapidly the case that lives get sucked out of people because something that they wouldn't choose to participate in if they could, steals the time form their day, time they could be spending on the jungle gym. A national tragedy. I'm on a jungle gym right now.
But on the other hand, those could easily be the ramblings of someone who is trying to talk himself into being able to handle a life of complete corporate castration, I don't think anyone out there cares if junior employee B sometimes enjoys reading Sonnets, Lord knows I don't and why should they. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, if no one cares, and your just living for you, then get what you need and find out how you need to get it and then start living. It's a sham otherwise. I mean, did you know Alice from the Brady Bunch spoke fluent Mandarin?
It's late and as always seems to be the case I get stupidly philosophic when I get tired, maybe it's the slow decay of my carbon that's getting to me, it often is and I suspect the doctor is fibbing to me when he says it's not an issue. I suspect one of these days, that decay is going to kill me.

COoOoOome with me on a Fantastic Voyage

Yo,
Party people, have you jumped aboard the train? In order that you might ride it, ride it? If you haven't neither have I so don't feel bad as I believe you might have to compensate the QCDJ's as their revenue streams have found themselves somewhat less than they once were.
Week eight of the 10 (11) weeks left in the 4 year Odyssey has gone quite well despite its infancy but I just can't help but wonder the following: when and where do professors get off teaching and sounding like they do. Admittedly there are dumb people in class. Yes, they are hungover. Yes, they are apathetic, despondently, hopped up on things and capable of watching Bloodsport. However, what in the name of fuck allows them to talk to us in the manner that they do. I do realize they probably are much brighter than I (note that right there I almost wrote eye) and that there life has probably been much more full than mine will ever dare to be. By that same token though I am human I just don't get why they talk to us like we bathe in our own waste or something. Granted I am not exactly always tripping from the light fantastic but I don't think that means i require, in the most monotone voice this side of Ferris's day off, to be reminded exactly how many times a professor was emailed about a question that they went over in class. Sure, I suppose we should listen all of the time, but who does that? For the sake of the gosh surely out 100 people 15 might garble what you said and a further couple might even (fudgedebowit) have legitimate excuses for missing or being inattentive. Does these students queries deserve the mono-lash back normally reserved for chastising a 3 year old for attempting to eat dirt? I think not. Surely one could understand that, and we'll over look the significance of the "it's you freakin job anyway," logic, people (notice not simply students) sometimes are unclear on logic or directions, perchance this might indicate lack of clear explanation or elocution. But probably not, I mean you did go to Brown.

Disclaimer: I'm not actually that hostile about the topic, in fact sometimes I quite like it because it allows me to have a reference point to professors and small indoor pets that I do like and get something out of. That being said I know it rattles several of my peers cages and I do come to the defense of the common man.

A dear roommate of mine now tarries to this machine to employ it's computing power so I must leave you (and him, although you won't have to deal with the cheetos residue he will have to) and let you embark on whatever good tasks you may find yourself doing. Live Strong with wine. Ted "Crazy Horse," Damascus in '08.

Cheers.

Let me introduce to you, the one and only Billy Spears.

Hello,
What's been happening? That question is inherently rhetorical this time (as opposed to some of the other posts in which I fully expect you to answer out loud) but this time its different because of the sheer mass of things that must have transpired in your life since the last time I rapped at you. The short answer for the brief hiatus from these blank html pages was/is quite simple. There were some administrative issues and those coupled with the trivialities of preparing many many many many many many writing related assignment temporarily dissuaded me from doing much leisure thought,let alone enumeration of that thought onto an e-page.
But that, as they say, is that and my triumphant return (cue the heralds) is now upon us. However, that does not mean that much has changed in the overall life of this author. In fact this update probably finds me more mired in the usual sludgery that I try and avoid than usual. Despite these muddy happenings and goings on I have found time lately for coffee and the OMC album so life has not been altogether intolerable.
I found myself re-reading the intelligent Investor, and after all these times I can still find no flaw in the logic. For those non-initiates ( aside: a book that merits your consideration) the basic premise of the book is on value investing and the practices of it. Simply revolutionary in its time, it simultaneously broke up large "old-crowd," firms like Kuhn Loebe and put in thier place many small firms that until then could only be seen as outside players whom would never have the principle contacts the established players held that appeared to "dictate," the fickle world of finance.
In contrast, with value investing many evaluation tools were used to gauge the worth of the stock, ranging from components on the balance sheet to what sector the company occupied. As painstakingly obvious as this might seem, it was not stumbled upon until great deals of money had been needlessly thrown at many companies who were then successful for the sheer might that capitol-intensive investment firms could throw at the blue bloods. Not no more.
Every time I read the book though, I find myself trying to find the flaws or drawbacks. One need not be in the market for very long before you realize that with every strategy of scheme there are weakness that either are or aren't addressed with that distinction usually fleshing out the overall viability of said method. For the life of me I can't argue with evaluating the overall long term potential of a stock based on its fundamentals. Save for Day trading which is in and of itself its own beast ( See: Joe Randa) and is unique. The only ammendum ( a weak criticism at best) would be the speculative market place that can exist more and more in global communication age. Increased communicability, it would seem, has not increased our ability to quell rumors and unwarranted price inflation but in fact has encouraged it. Note the popularity of the song " Laughy Taffy."

Well that's it for this round up. I hope after this re up rodeo you found yourself sufficiently in wonderment as to how you survived these last two weeks with out my senseless tirades. As for advice, how's about skipping that one last drink of the evening. Instead opting for a double. Crack life on the head. Avoid cracking your head on life. Or putting crack into your life. Or playing Life while on crack. Or playing Life while alive. Or having a head while doing crack attempting to live. Or avoiding crack.

Cheers

That don't work

Hey,
It's nice to see you again it's been some time since we've seen each other old friend.

No time for a long post tonight, I just felt obligated to inundate mass(re:25) people with my thoughts for the afternoon so it looks as if you'll just have to suffer through the brain droppings.
Putting things of is an unusual beast is it not? There is nothing quite like not doing something, I find it very unique. I think the question should be framed the following way. If we, and we can assume this is true at least in my case, am inherently putting things off is it because these things i actually don't want to do them or is it because I want to do the other things? My answer is almost always the former. Which means several things, first I should shut up and start shaving, second why is it that I actively avoid doing things? Some would argue social inertia but I like to think that I am bland. Just bland.

I take all that back. I'm riveting and sometimes I can't even stand the thrill ride that is my life. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go play risk. Try and watch Step by Step and not think of Cody beating his wife.

Be real.

From the Back to the Middle and around again...

Hey there campers,
My oh my, how have you been? I've been worried sick! I was asked recently what the overarching theme of this blog was. In fact this question, it was posed to me not by someone I know but rather a Swede whom regularly reads my site because it "befuddles," him. To his reckoning my rants,although they strike him as interesting, lack both depth and coherency. Sound like anyone you know? I could not be more pleased. When I began this blog I suppose I did entertain certain flights of fancy regarding prolific and interesting things. With posts dedicated to some sort of centrality that would grant both this page and myself untold wealth and 'nassy. It would seem though, after several months that the wealth and the 'nassy are both still in the mail (my condolences women I'll be there soon) but the blog endures. Take that Sweden.

Which of course does beg the question, to what if anything, is this blog supposed to accomplish? Funny you should ask that reader. I guess I rarely ask myself that question and perhaps my blog reflects it. There is a saying older than me that reads something to the effect of "the reflection often mirrors its reflector," perhaps the fate of this blog was sealed the minute I touched finger to pad. That being said though, I really do enjoy the considerable freedom I have allowed myself on the html canvas. With no theme, but to glorify myself, I have the flexibility to do or say anything I want with no recourse, ex...

I RULE!!!!!!!

If you reading this your tuned in for ramblings and as I've said before, i do try to please.

This does though make two things imperative. One, that under no circumstances will there be any more substance to this blog. That I can promise you. Things discussed in this blog will have no more intrinsic value that my autograph, of that, I can assure you. Second is a bit more slippery. This component must remain intriguing to the reader. I often find myself wondering what exactly anyone wants to hear. I have reconciled it the following way. To begin I didn't know precisely why I started this blog (I'm sure you understand) but I did/do enjoy the half duplex of information and continue to keep it running. Much to the dismay of the arch-villains always trying to shut me down. You'd be surprised how persistent The Joker can be when he wants something. When something is of value to the author I think that is when it becomes of value to the reader and not a moment before, but that would be if I was trying to compose something of actual merit which is,crystal clearly, not the case here. Therefore, my textually driven farces will remain dedicated to nothing in particular in direct defiance of both Sweden and Slyvia Plath. The lighter the topic the better.

Make of it what you will. Your words can be your therapy as mine might or might not be to me. I'm not letting you that close. Something things you have to keep for yourself. For instance I really DID like the Devil Wears Prada, I'm sooo last year, and I did like Jodeci.

In regards to an actual post my day has been quite pleasant although it started with one of the mist intensely chaotic mornings that I have had in quite some time. Only after mornings like that do you appreciate why people can actually be uppity after a morning full of stressors. For a man wiser than myself it might make him appreciate his problems in scope and comparison to those of a man of similar age in Somalia, but alas I am fickle. At least for Comedy's sake.

Take care dear vigilantes I hope this post finds you well. As for advice, try getting over that fear of soap suds, live a little, pump it, just do it and take it the extreme.

Be Real.

Sit on it Mercurtio

Dear Readers,
Hello there and I hope all is well with you. As these keys click and clatter I find myself wondering why it is that I always blog in the evening. I suspect that I always hope against hope that some outrageous event will transpire whether it be thought provoking or a yarn worth ripping. However, knowing what I know now, namely that I've been domesticated, I'm trying to incorporate blogging after my morning consitutional and directly before I paint. That sounded together didn't it?

Tragically, I'm not that beautiful however what little glimmer of purity I do give off has and will be amplified by the weather outside today. As I've mentioned in earlier posts it sure seems as if the good/bad dichotomy allows for weather enjoyment. It's always funny how something that so many people hate allows us to enjoy other things. Thank you Jeff Goldbum. " BE STILL CODY."

The fed raised again, something that I think everyone had to be expecting. For the first time in quite a long time I think that the reason for the increase had a lot to do with social pressure. This being the first meeting that "Pedagogue Ben," has chaired had he taken any action other than that perceived as a Greenspanian move he would have incited a veritable fiscal pandemic. Had he moved to stop or ease the rate that in and of itsef would have caused more stir than anything that an actual quarter point could and is doing. At least in the short term and it is my understanding that happens to be all that people care about these days anyway. Isn't it Shakespeare who said that a long time is comprised of an infinite aggregate of short runs?

All other things being equal however that future of this country looks shakier and shakier with the dollars constant weakening and the penchant of other emerging economies to hesitate on thier past policy of "open-arm," lending it would seem America,or more precisely its leaders, seem hell-bent on turning what was once a semi-solid foundation into a very public house of cards. I believe what I like the least about these on-going trends is the link of myself personally to the attrition of the prosperity. Nary a day do I turn to a news station or pick up the paper do I not learn that we, namely me, as the American worker is overstayed, underqualified and overpaid. When did that start becoming the case? I personally resent the allegations. I mean i voted for Ruben Studdard how much more qualified can an American be? Although it would be an obvious truism that blue collar America has priced itself out of the lucrative positions of yesteryear it is not too late to get in on the manufacturing opportunities afforded to your father. It only requires a simply relocation to Sri Lanka, which despite the travel brochures, is lovely almost year round. Expect in the hail of gunfire season, which is milder by the lake.
As I close I must emphatically endorse V for Vendetta if not for its veiled references to large scale American tendencies and blunders than at least for the sheer quality of the cinema. It is movie going at its best. Watch or get stuck up.

Bright light city gonna....

Set my soul on fire,
Hey there world, I do hope that you've been okay as I have been more than excited to return to you. It feels nice to be back at your bosom hoping and feeling that everyday spent there will lead to one more. It has so far, and I'm not complaining as you've been quite good to me over the years and I thank you. Boobs are good. Generally speaking.
The recent absence from updates has been directly related to a conscious decision not to stay connected to the information superhighway while on holiday. It was something that I milled over a great deal. Although it is (astoundingly/astronomically) difficult to leave all the information man has accumulated unto this point in time at your fingertips, I did rather enjoy it. Not that I mind staying connected and not because i thought my addiction to the internet was any kind of hindrance. Nay goodsir, the reason why i doth did depart from the H.M.S. COMP was between betwixt her and I lay something far more sinister than the average persons reliance on facebook. What existed between my fair lady and I was connection.
Although I am not altogether paralyzed at the thought of being completely dependent on something I truly despise the notion of something (not of emotional significance, meaning mom your still safe) being of such paramount importance that I cannot distance myself from it for a few days. What is due to Caesar give to Caesar and what is due to God give to God. I try, as best I can, to let my "inner,' (defined as the self not nulled to death by Mega Man and veiled references to GOP instability) be as distanced from the physical pleasure world as possible. Therefore, i left my internet connection at home in pursuit of the higher ideal. The one that allows me to live and make merriment with no aid or crutch. Straight Andrew Mode. For better or for Worse, but with boobs.
The holiday itself, to address the former issue indirectly and the not as of yet spoken issue of the holiday itself head on, was a romp. A true testament to human decadence. I realized when I got back that I truly made no one happy but myself, probably to a fault. In fact I laid by a pool for two hours having to go to the restroom chiefly because I didn't want to get up. Also I was stealing candy from deserving children to satisfy my sugar fix. It was nice to share a sunbeam or two with those you care about the most and that I did. Taking in sun and fun in an environment that not only allowed, but encouraged the kind of counter self-respecting behavior in which I indulge whenever possible. Kids everywhere were without candy and Las Vegas will forever be changed.
Today specifically has been wonderful, aided by the weather, but wonderful on its own merits. The start of a new quarter is always saturated with " it gives me a new chance to think that I'm going to not get drunk everyday, but i probably will,LOL" conversations. Although, I both agree and understand, the reason why I like the beginnings of the quarter is it allows me to see the actual reason why I'm taking the class. I've been a student for so long that I, in what seems like decades ago, have almost completely lost a sense of connectivity with the outside working and existing universe and can only compare classes with-in an academic construct. In the initial phases of the quarter I can often see the rhyme and connection of the classes to actual goings on in a world that I anticipate joining right after I start the commune.
I hope everything is good for you as Spring Time can be difficult for many young people. A mans thoughts turn to fancy and I'm sure that young women's thoughts turn to something other than baking although I'm not sure to what.... But whatever the case may be my sincere hope is that this spring finds you in renewed spirits and renewed zeal. Perhaps you'll even try that new Zesty Ranch dressing. I've been told its quite good. Trust me.

I guess they don't have telephones where-ever you were at?

Hey there,
Finals and my life had been spiraling to the point of madness however, I'm happy to report, them being over, I have turned out to be a better man after all. I suppose there is something to it. In fact just two days ago I threw out a "me first and the gimmie gimmie's" album that has been broken and sitting in my album case for a year. How's that for resolve, David. ( Note: David is the first name of a particularly ornery professor whose special brand of student per student life prognosis administered an almost lethal dosage of getcha life in order to me recently)
I've watched so much television today my eyeballs actually hurt. That in and of itself is quite a feat. Something that has not been my case in quite some time. So its kind of refreshing to be back into the swing of things. Sampling being American isn't all bad, all of the time I guess. The real accomplishment of my watching today though has to go to the hour spent watching nothing. I could, and maybe should, detail everything that I watched but for that hour I truly watched nothing. At least nothing of significance. I mean i tried to watch things. I tried to give it a chance but how many times can you really watch the same show of M*A*S*H (isn't it cool I can do that?)....The answer is 4. You can watch the same episode 4 times and then it absolutely becomes intolerable. Hawkeye blends from witty to smug to offensive fairly rapidly and during the last stage the empathy that comes with feeling for all the Korean women that needlessly (and i do mean needlessly) fall into the dark canyon of human comedy reaches such a high that you almost want to adopt a child. Luckily, the Brady Bunch was being aired on the next channel and that urge was promptly squashed. Alice, just MARRY THE MEATMAN.I mean his name is Sam and he cuts meat for a living. You have found the pinnacle of man hood, lock-him down and marry him.
Truthfully though, contrary to the joy you may or may not be getting out of the shakiness of this blog entry, the relaxation has done me well. Though its obvious it doesn't bode well for my communication skills. As of late the only real talking that I've had to do is to answer one word questions that are posed by mother that more often than not have to deal specifically with dinner. Love is Love.
Too much TV a bad thing or a good thing? In discernible quantifiable doses probably a good thing. In fact if you couldn't turn off the noodle every once in a while my money's on insanity setting in rather quickly. Luckily to help navigate the murky waters of your mind the H.M.S. Television exists. And what a strong ship she be. One can without a doubt kill an entire evening with little to "show," for it. (Pick your-self off the floor from laughing and continue reading) I do think that once in a while, despite my confederacy of dunces tone, its good. I need to not think every once in a while and it also lets me get back in touch with my generation. I, like you probably, get far too little of what seems to be very popular as of late. I would like to use, as the Flagship of the New Wave, the E! Channel.
I still cant fully understand exactly what it is. I mean other than a gigantic consumer machine wrapped up and posing like it actually is news. I mean they really had a breaking bulletin on Isaac Hayes quitting South Park. Which is, quite literally, the closest thing to news reported that I saw. Also as a sidenote Mark McGrath (of just letting buildings all over the world crumble fame) is on one of those crappy shows. Wowee wow wow. God does punish those who wrong him.
Well the posts, with some luck, should be more forthcoming and frequent. Now that the downpour has gone from torrential to gin and tonic in my immediate engagement planner. I'll call you at 2 am. Sorry for the non-cohesion.

A link for dat azz

http://www.insidebayarea.com/business/ci_3565557

Shout, Shout, let it all out.

Hey Cutie,
How have you guys been? I've been okay just dealing with the times and struggles of being a Simmons in this topsy turvy world. Which, yes, to satisfy your curiosity does involve shoe contracts, but in the end its quite difficult. I mean at the end of the day I am not a role model. I am a student. Do not envy me.

These last couple of days have had me thinking more about the potential job market in '07 i.e. Graduation day. It would seem the softening of the economy (in relative terms to industrial jobs) would be good for me, Andrew, the potential white collar worker. Despite that fact, I still find myself wondering about the relative strength of the business sector directly after I graduate. This is not to say that I don't still daydream of that contruction job someday. Wearing a hard hat and posting pictures of girls in Bikinis on the back of my timecard which is already dirtied with grease. In fact I've been packing my lunch in a pail with a "Val Halen is for Pussies," sticker for the last couple of weeks just to try it out. But again despite these things, I can't help but feel as if perhaps the "pendulum," of job availability will not be in full back swing within the next two years.

While most Mens thoughts turn to that of young ladies in the spring mine,as of late, as stirred towards making myself as a competitive job candidate as I can. Absract, I know. Sometimes the dreamy eyed idealist liberal that used to live inside these bones gives a tremor in my 'noggin trying to counter-balance the inherent self-centered nature of participating in a successful market driven, free economy. " Daydream, live and paint. Make something beautiful and then spit on. Tell someone Jackson Pollock was a visionary when in reality you think he was an egotistical, one trick pony. Light something on fire and ponder what gives that energy its energy." These all seem like trivial endeavors that were once important to a much freer spirit. I suppose while most people buy birkenstocks for the first time during their undergraduate years, I in contrast, have put mine on e-bay.

Things aren't all bad about being a corporate raider though. I must admit that. First, there are a lot more women in heels, which contradictory to the "sexual harassment handbook," is a very large pro bono of working in the world of tie pins and action item lists. There is the sense of external accomplishment. Mothers around the world are aggregately more pleased to here that you are Assistant Vice President of Accounts Payable then when they receive a collect call from Kazikistanian village asking for plane money home for two because she really does have to meet Irgugurelal as she's the new love of your life. I guess mine has always been the struggle of duality. Trying desperately to keep something organic and vital alive inside the cool husk of significant marginal profits,computer networks and routing tables. It hasn't always been easy but it has come naturally. Sometimes I forget that it's very hard to change one's own hardwiring and it seems as if lately I realize more and more that mine has a lot more to do with Steve Eikenberry than Steve Jobs.

My immediate past has been chalk full of classes, projects and papers (over-looking the undergrad version of Alice in Wonderland "Oh My!" I write on...) something that I am none to fond of. However, I will share with you,reader,the converse of my schooling. Namely, Spring Break. Look it's caps locked that means its for real. The fact that I am going on vacation non-withstanding what's important is the off-time from the constant of shlocking to class and wondering when and where a pop quiz might live come from. That thought is fit for neither man nor beast. I think someone important said that.

Well, like all good things this post most come to an end. I look forward to our next encounter as it will most likely see me praising the spring break trip a significant amount more. So tune in next post for the extolling of bikinis. Until then, don't wax your ears, you can hear the same and you won't poke your eardrums. Which hurts. Don't hurt, don't swab.
Cheers

Sit down, shut up and get out a sucker.

Hey there,
Wow, there is nothing really like being sick. Pushed to the brink of sanity it is only here where a person wonders if it actually all is worth it. This is the one time that a person can be completely narcissistic. Your only concern is you. Liberating as this may be there are those who don't see it that way. Namely your roommates. Although as far as Im concerned I don't understand why an exfoliating rub down is that out of common practice. I mean I'm sick, and I need some help. Obviously my pours aren't going to exfoliate themselves.

That all being said, I've always been a mind over matter sickness adherent. For better or for worse i try and out think the disease. After all if existence is perception, perhaps I can block out hemorrhoids goes the ethos. However, this current bout is testing the ardent nature of the philosophy. Rarely have I been this shook. It's difficult taking bedrock and making it bedpan. More difficult still to swallow (sorry for the gross-out) the bed-pan, but it seems every once in a while your personal foundations shift and it appears that I may be dangerously close to losing some philosophic footing. I guess i really should have bought those mental hiking boots and to think, before now i thought QVC was a scam...

To me being sick always underscores pretty deep thought, I mean what else have you to do? In fact , its almost like old hat at this point. I lay there, prostrate, wearing lipstick, wondering what I did to deserve the headache and the only thought that seems to run through up there is "what did I think about last time?" An interesting point Andrew. What did you think about last time? Was it something of note?, was it something tangible? Although the answer to both those questions is probably not, it still merits some consideration. I like to define intelligence as the capacity for abstract though, therefore, it's difficult for me to render one person stupid and one person smart seeing as how the abstraction for two people are inherently different. In fact from a third party perspective (which is how much SHOULD be analyzed it seems to me ) many things have been accomplished by people all across the intelligence spectrum not rendering any of the acheivements more important than any other one. In fact one might go as far to say as the propensity for simplistic abstract thought might produce a more benignly beneficial product. Although the pet rock took no stroke of genius it has less potential for evil than does cold fusion.

Befuddled logic yes, but it believe it was Yoda who said "try? think?....do or do not there is no try." Action is not a consequence of intelligence. Lobbying for greater social equity or more toilet paper in the dorm bathrooms requires no higher logic. Only action, and in some cases, higher logic would be bad. Emphasize the action and not the thought, the Henry David and not the not the Ralph Waldo. I mean Yoda lifted a fucking X-Wing out of the mud. Deal 'wit dat.

Back to being sick though, the first thing to go is your tolerance of anything other than the easiest possible way to do anything. Being as how you have minimal energy to expend in the first place to see or be made to, expend energy in a less than efficient manner can make one furious. "Just freaking pick a channel and stick with it," one might be heard to say.
Hostility is not a suit that I particularly wear well and knowing that I try and reconcile my noticeably shorter fuse with the fact that I am sick. No one really cares if you are or not, but you are and you must cope. Personal tests,outside of the timed variety, can prove to be difficult.

Well that about raps it up for me. As for advice for the day I guess recommending washing your hands frequently to avoid getting sick would be a bit preachy, but then you probably read Dear Abbie so your used to it. Wash those hands.

Sometimes snake eyes can bring down the house.

Hey there,
A pleasant Monday evening to you all. I'm sure that you've been well as it seems most have been. I,personally, can't seem to shake the feeling today that although I am completely certain that I don't have anything that I should (we'll overlook the fact that "should" could easily be defined as serving at a soup kitchen etc.) be doing something else. Which is not an altogether pleasant feeling. I'm sure many of you have felt things similar to these lingering paranoia pangs but believe you me this is the worst case I have suffered in this many years.Metaphorcal red creeping into the corners of my eyes. It's almost making the slow transition into physical symptom manifestation, making my stomach uneasy and my feet itch. I suppose I could explore the reasons why this could be going on....

1.) Perhaps I completed a task not to its entirety, and subsequently am feeling a lack of accomplishment from my lackluster performance (sorry Kerry maybe next year). However, although I will grant you that the possibility of me flubbing something up is distinctly large, I hardly think that anything I participate in could be this detrimental. At least to me. I try very hard and am quite successful at limiting the amount of activities I involve myself in that could potentially bring harm on my house. After all, I have the Simmons crest to defend.

2.) I realized that time is probably better spent doing something other than watching step by step re-runs while writing in some blog. Although these are both noble endeavors there are those that claim (and I'm not giving value to either sentiment) that time allocation is important to task management. That being said have you seen the episode where Al becomes a women and J.T. realizes it? I thought so.

3.) Comic books don't correlate with real life to the degree to which I was lead to believe. Albeit they serve as huge metaphors and aid greatly in the art of attracting women. It would seem as if both chicks and society don't dig wearing a cape as much as I thought they would. Tragic.

4.) I actually am forgetting to do something. Very unlikely.
(ed note: it was the authors great great grandfather whom after talking a much winded Llyod George into getting some Arby's on the way to sign the Treaty of Versailles, was heard to say upon being informed that Mr. George was now late to the meeting, was heard to say "Oh crap."

Although I recognize that there are many other candidates for reasons which I would being feeling these trepidations I believe those to be the leaders. Too bad that partying 'till five a.m in Damascus was last weeks excuse. I should pull it together.

To you the reader, I bid you adieu, I wish I could spend more time with you but alas, there is work to be done, and, ironically enough it's to be spent honing my writing skills via a Junior Comp class. With any luck, next time I rap at you it will be from the guided pen of a junior collegiate level writer. But I wouldn't get your hopes up.

So Andrew walks into a bar...

Dear Reader,
Many a post ago I found myself wondering what exactly the purpose of this life was. Although I had flirted with many "religions," in order that I might find some solvency, I lacked direction. Little did I know that these escapades into self were merely a harbinger of the real reason I was put onto the planet.
You see rapping is not an easy game, in fact often I have heard brutal tales of slaying, and raping laced with promises of vast amounts of wealth entwined in my peers lyrics. However, these trials and tribulations cannot stop that which is pre-ordained and my inevitable rise to rap superstardom is, at this point, pseudo-unavoidable. I believe I exude all characteristic that I have observed in successful hip hop groups. A message, a swagger, a large penis, self-inflated thoughts about ones own penis and a dope basketball game (see:freakin brothers every way like MJ) that being said this rise will not be easy. As I have learned, a rise to fame is littered with the carcasses of those less fortunate. Wangsters, who presumably thought it was nothing but drug slinging and partying all the way to No Limit solidarity. This is where my line of demarcation sticks out and separates the wannabes from the always will be.
Mine is an effortless flow, timeless, a greenslevian compositional strucure with both pantameter and rhythm that makes women, as well as men, both swoon and turn thier thoughts to love and glocks. Couple that with my innate understanding of the mean streets of various places and the fact the my street cred rise five fold daily, then I think your probably onto what so many already know. My destiny is inevitable.

I truly don't know where that came from, and I suppose I don't have to explain it to you. My weekend, and the reason for my vaca from the blogging world, was filled with all things Kentucky. A greater state I am not yet convinced exists. Normally when one visits an area (or at least I)constantly am reminded that I am indeed a visitor to the place. Lest this reminder be via a lack/shock/ of understanding at local culture and practices or by an actual citizen poignantly reminding you that here is certainly not your "here." That being said though Kentucky, to my experience , shatters all those previously held stereotypes of travel. The people and citizenry are genuine to a fault making to both easy to discern local culture and to adapt to it, and adapt I did. The entire state allows and encourages things which, unto this point in my life, had been held largely taboo (i.e. shooting guns at things) this however is readily accepted practice. The cold steel and warm blood pumping through you are the only things that you feel when holding firearms (I presume, as I never really held one.)
The overall disposition of the people is what sets it apart. Truly allowing you to feel like a welcomes participant in life, there is no trying to find the hidden underbelly of the culture and nightlife. There is no invasion of cult beliefs and social circles digging harder and harder to find something real. No, in these ale houses both the shalacked wood and friendly drunks are your friend. Making one feel delightfully included and shamed at his or her own lack of openness and social graces.

Being back is a bit of a bummer though, to return to cold weather is always the worst way to return. Wind as invisible bullets makes being a pedestrian a combat activity and unluckily I am ill-equipped to deal with the hostile Charlie. We will see how I cope. Hopefully there is less crying than the last time I was in a combat zone (Hallmark Store). With that horrific excuse for attempted humor, reader, I leave you. The rest of my night must be lived and although it might be bland there's going to be a lot of it, and what isn't made better by vast quantities? Except Ricki Lake.

BE REAL.

On my street, these are the fables.

Hello,
The weathers pretty good and so it seems like everyone else is in relation to it. Which is a pleasant change from the horrific torture school that seemed to be these last couple of day. I don't know exactly what all the deal was but it seemed like the colder it got subsequently people got angrier. Not that I blame them I suppose there is a lot to be angry about. My main qualm with this kind of weather is really the extra preparations it takes to begin your day. I would venture that (in reality I guess I hadn't realized it until I wrote that sentence) I'm a minimalist when it comes to preparation and related taskes for better or for worse. Head first diving is my swimming event and as it goes I'm relatively successful with it. Where the fuck does weather get off trying to encroach on that? The sanctity of determining my own level of involvement is the one thing that I have left in this slowly decaying universe and the indifferent hand a fickle natural god is trying to pry it from my grasp. Seeing as how I have no control over this I find myself trying to pack this extra time into exactly the same amount of prep time that I would allocate for a normal day. Which, other than inherently problematic, is also not very successful despite my best efforts. Trying to coat,hat and glove up in the time that it normally takes one to put thier shoes on (did I mention that I also have TO put shoes on?) can invariably bring some detriment to ones ability to effectively be on time places. I'm not changing though, why should I? The weather is the one who sucks.
That being said everything is flowing quite nicely as of late wouldn't you say? Although I am aware that there is a small faction of you reading that aren't enrolled at some university I will echo my peers and collectively exhale at mid-terms rapping to thier conclusion and duck as to not get hit with the wind current that so often takes place when an entire university decides to breath. I only duck during the briefest first moment though, because after the initial push thier is nothing nicer than a campus relaxed. I believe it was Euripides whom said " Slay not thy beast, lest the campus itself be relaxed." He was spitting truth. It's fun to walk through that door held open out of sincerity as opposed to forced social mores. Although, nothing detracts from the fun of exploiting forced social mores. Ever keep sneezing just to receive the bless yous?
Can there be no greater discontent than that which seems to be building for this mid-term election? It would seem as if both parties are fearful although for different reasons. I suppose I'm the only liberal not completely convinced that the democrats have the leadership exo-skeleton to support the living flesh and blood that comes with real majority power. It seems as if over the last twenty years the solon's of the left have let their once whipped and honed leadership tactics boil and disintegrate into the rough equivalent of hearing Teddy Kennedy talk, which is a droning sound followed by the thought "I wonder if I could still spell Chapaquitic ?" Here we are though, like it or not, and although the credit can not surely fall to the rank and file democrats for turning this ride in America it's here. I think anyone can plainly see this majority of support was the President's to lose and he lost it. A sitting President with approval numbers in the doldrums. A party with scandals at almost every level of thier leadership and congressional teams, the liberals have haphazardly walked into what seems to be a situation in which they can "steal," America back,as it where, but the real question is are they prepared? The answer in my mind if a resounding no. When conservatives wrestled away majority from the Democrats all those many years back it was done under a flag of calculation and conformity. It rode a wave of many revolutionary tactics such as mass mailing and contemporary push-pull polling. In stark contrast, this current paradigm shift has been induced not by the potential receiver of power but moreso by inaptitude on the other side of the aisle. Albeit, like many I too feel strongly that a change by any measure is what this country desperately needs, to whom to do we turn to steer this great country now re-dedicated to liberal ideals? Harry Reid? John Kerry? Hillary Clinton? Remember these names and contrast them with thier intrinsic negative polarities. Recall that although this country has deemed it necessary for a change in leadership, the so called conservatives are still here and earning thier names. Social issues are as strident as ever with many of them facing us prominently and robustly as a country. Does the liberal leadership structure have an idealist whom can carry Alabama and South Carolina on his or her back? If the answer is yes, which I'm not convinced it is, what values does this person extol? Why has he/she the right to guide this country? By default? This line of logic has very real and substantial outcomes the most powerful of which leaves an American voting public without a party to turn to, one inept and the other unable.
Well I suppose that's about all for me. Keeping bundling up and bundling down, just keep bundling. I hope that this afternoon holds in store for you what it has in store for me, throwing balls at pins. Which is of course, more political commentary. Until then, get a damn haircut will you?

I've been thinking about getting a little place down by the lake.

Hey y'all,
Another action packed (KATHOOM!) edition of Andrew Rant, how the heck are you? Pretty good over here. Another Friday rolls around and I can already feel the palpable hue that is the weekend barely being able to holds itself back from tidle-waving (sp?) all over the collective beaches of Athens, Ohio. Although I'm not exactly willing to completely assign the weekend such a blatant favoritism over the weekdays I will say that by fan applause alone the weekends win hands down, and I'm usually driven by the huddled masses. Ask my furbie.
All in all though I just can't seem to shake what occupies me on the weekdays, in order that I might fully lose myself in the weekends. I suppose, stepping back, that I really don't know whether to consider thaT bad or good however, I will say that I try to lose myself in every endeavor and since I can't I'm a little bent out of shape. Perhaps it's the endless involvement into the sphere of academia, but God help me, sometimes I wake up with accounting problems in my head. Although I am aware that there are those less fortunate than I, I truly challenge anyone to spend an evening alone with accounting thoughts eating up your brain and then come talk to me. Suddenly Sudan doesn't seem that bad.
Of course that's in poor taste, (After all, from what I understand there's not much to taste over there period), but what I'm driving at is when something breaks the inner-sanctuary that is your private thoughts it can be a little disorienting. Often I find myself digging in my neighbors trash looking for shreds of long forgotten Eggo's and wondering is this really what I want for myself. Then though I inevitably take a bite, PURE TRASH CAN HEAEN. Baby, you haven't lived until you've gotten down sideways to wheeze on some trash marinated waffle. The thrill is more than the human central nervous systems was designed to stand which is perhaps why I usually cough blood for several days afterward.
On to lighter news though, Today a ship nearing Egypts safe harbors sank in the wee hours of the morning, leaving many dead and many more wondering what the cause was. Apparently, whatever it was, it was something that elicits much secrecy in the press, as of now (3:00 pm) I still have no idea as to exactly what the cause was, other than the ship just being plum afraid of Egypt. This may leave many to ponder exactly what kind of haphazard rules to we have in place that such an old boat is deemed seaworthy, it has many people up in arms about the lack of words sensitivity that no one seems to be giving this international story the tragedy title that it deserves. Albeit, I feel/think these things to I can't help but share my overriding sentiment which is, wow ships sink very rarely. I had no idea that people were still transported by sea from place to place which I guess is something that I really should have guessed, but the news that this story is making must mean one thing. There hasn't been a ship sinking in quite some time otherwise I would have heard about it. That's great news. One thing humanity has conquered, significantly less sinking, personally I couldn't be any more proud. It's difficult to tame the sea, it, as many animals, is just as wild as the tempest winds. In fact, some "scientists," seem to think that its wildness may be directly proportional with "weather patterns," "geo-graphic phenomena," "tectonic plate shifts," and "alf," but whatever the reason/s we seem to be coming out on top of the fight.
Foreign media and international relations is something that never ceases to amaze me. Personally, I believe the main reasons why its so engrossing is the complete apathy of the American public to EVERYTHING. It's remarkable. Admittedly, the nature of our social tint has allowed the media to paint almost everything outside these borders as a potential hostile zone, so maybe it's not shocking to Joe Citizen when something gets blown up/torn down/installed/waged war upon/starved/diseased/systematically eradicated/cut off/cut in/bribed/murdered/given a Mellow Yellow, but even still someone should probably at least FEIGN an interest for God's sake. I believe from the President down, the American social conscious that we broadcast must read something like this to other countries "yeah okay, I heard Friends is playing back to back Tuesdays on TBS." To make matters worse no one in Pakistan is really that familiar with Friends! So i suggest two things. One course of action involves realizing that these people that die/live/eat things are HUMAN. The other involves giving the wit of Chandler to the world. Which one is your money on?
Welllllll I guess that's about all for me. When hungover it's difficult to sustain any really thoughts, so I've left you with all these fake ones. Enjoy, they're reheatable.

I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon.

Do you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?

Hey team,
Sorry its been so long since I've posted. Although seeing as how its my blog I guess I really don't have all that much to be sorry for, but I'm weak willed and I care about you so I'm sorry. Take it or leave it.
The main reason for the delay in-between posts hasn't been for lack of interesting happenings over here and Andrewonia, rather quite the opposite. Lightening,it would seems, has been hitting paydirt lately as far as I'm concerned. So I guess this post is dedicated to lightning's recent increased accuracy. Way to go lightening! Feel free to respond with any of the good things you've done, readers, and perhaps we can start a "shout out" post. Of course lightening will take precedent over whatever crap you've done, but if I were you I wouldn't complain much about lightening. It's a fickle hellcat. (note:lightening is interpreted to mean my luck with women, thus, we are assuming today IS opposite day).
The main reason for my extended absence is that it has been a real tribulation time academically. Leaving me little to no time to post, probably someone with a better grip on thier time skill could have squeezed it in, but since chaos seems to be the cup I usually drink from I would rather not spit the wine back now. It's been good for so long.
Today though,marks some well deserved R and R time for me. Which (Annie get your gun) means MORE POSTS! Which is what the public wants so its what I'll give 'em. I'm a Libra.
The sincere lack of pressure after being in the proverbial "cooker," for the last two weeks has been somewhat odd, a sensation I was not anticipating. I would liken it, at least from where I'm sitting, to carrying something heavy on your back for a long time and then, once its removed, knowing that you COULD be doing so much more, and, somewhere in the annals of you brain, longing for the weight again. Because it was so hard, so excoriating, it gave you purpose. Not unlike Moriarty after he looses Sherlock, after a while the struggle defines you, and without it you can't help but feel a little empty, but I guess that's why God invented the "Wonder Years."
Here I am then, feeling a little lost with my new recreation time, and although I know it to be ridiculously transient I'm glad it's eating dinner at my house tonight even if it is just one night. It's the one night stands with happiness that I love the best. The thrill of finding something and the agony of losing it stand as the ying and yang in the human experience and I believe I love them the same. Some might call that masochistic, but I call it enjoying the popsicle and then after its gone, enjoying the sensation of knowing I ate a popsicle.
I hope all is good with you as I draw to a close,and I truly hope that you enjoy your next meal. Because it might be your last, 'cuz I'm creepin on you muthafuckka. Watch your back.

Be real.

Minor or Major, just do yourself a favor...

Busta,
What it is right now? For me lately it hasn't seemed like all that much, just stammering through the usual milieu. For some I guess that's exhilarating and as much as I try to philo-size it somehow I just can't (some days) get revved up over the mundane. Although, I am willing to accept the fact that Chris Mullin no longer plays NBA basketball, so perhaps I'm closer to Nirvana than I give myself credit for.
These last couple of days, as I indicated previously have held little ground breaking. Not knowing whether to point to my sincere drive for success and self-relevance, or my sincere lack in both those categories as the reason for my most recent bouts with the banal I find myself just reading and watching more Hangin with Mr Cooper. Some would call that heaven, but I strive for more than that. Mine is a quest for relevancy and have no doubt that it's an uphill battle. I believe it was either Jesus or John Lennon who so succinctly summed it up "There is nothing you can do that can't be done, come with me and I'll make you a fisher of men."

Today as luck would have it, kicks off what promises to be an interesting first round of tests for myself for the winter term. I only mention things as inane and irrelevant to you the reader, in the case that they either have significant anecdotal potential or they illuminate what I deem as some larger broader point, but in this case I'm just saying it. I mention these tests really because it is burning on my brain, and after all I reckon that's what this blog's mission statement is, to be all things Andrew. So really I would be doing a disservice to you and the site if I were to mask my true sentiments and feelings from the general public. (Don't worry, fetishes and hygiene aren't until Blog: Volume 2, your still safe).
Only the seasoned blogger can avoid mentioning the occasional self-absorbed topic and I,alas, are not one of them. We are Robert Palmer.
On a lighter note, although these past few days have been somewhat stuck on reruns of Andrew's Greatest Dull moments, there is something to be said for the liberation that comes with that. Not unlike Ground Hog Day, I'm getting to be so comfortable and absorbed into my routine that I can, without a moments hesitation, do things that others in some "real," social situations cannot. Don't know what I mean? Well, really neither do I, but for the most part they involve social profiling and recording responses and behavior associated with the demographics. I guess that's pretty implicit now, as I recently read a collegehumor.com post dedicated to sectioning off the various college students(frat boys etc. etc). However, their statements could be blindly done without ever visiting a college campus. Those have been stereotypes that harken back to Otter and his Delta cohorts (Senator Bluetarsky).
Modernity though, has posed us with several new categories, these members exist as subsets in larger groups, making them infinitely more complicated and interesting as they have to exist by double and even triple standards. Indulge me if I may. To begin with we have indieus normalus. In laymans term, middle-class hipster. These men and women are quite dangerous as they are armed with acidic diatribe about Marcus Garvey and perhaps they even own a Plasmatics ticket stub, but it all seems a little senseless over the alligator shirt they must have pre-wrinkled the evening before. Admittedly its difficult to be an agitator and still fit most societal norms within the fashion world so I'm not berating them. Somehow it got chic to be able to spit political firebranded statements coupled with music that probably meant something to someone else. These are are strange and wonderful creatures. What makes them interesting (although I'm sure you already know this being the 2+2=4er that you are) is the multiple sets of standards they must pass themselves through. It's difficult being indie enough to not get questioned when you buy a Smiths album but still have some semblance of conformity in order that women drunk on Natural Light might not think you too weird to go home with. A paradox indeed.
DISCLAIMER: THE AUTHOR OWNS A BRAIN SETZER ORCHESTRA CD WHICH HE PAID FULL PURCHASE PRICE FOR. WHILE WEARING THOSE LITTLE ROUND PINS OF ECLECTIC SOCIAL IMPORTANCE ON HIS BOOKBAG.

Well, I guess that's it for me. Although I know your hanging on every word, I've got to go. These posts seem to get more and more stream of consciousness as I progress. I attribute it both to no longer nit-picking over what I broadcast/expose on the internet and mescaline. Either way, this post is closing up shop. Buy your e-beer elsewhere, this bar's a shuttin' down.

Be real.

Discounting the haymaker is always a mis-step.

Hey there,
Wow, a whole weekend since I've rapped at you. Oh how I've longed for the clicky friendship of this keyboard. It's a nice and forgiving companion. There is something that happens between a man and his computer. Not unlike the relationship men develop (or so I'm told) with thier cars I would suspect. You live in them, you reveal yourself to them. They assist you in many tasks that alone you could not complete. My computer has born witness to some of my lowest acts of depravity. Moments where the term "scrapping the bottom of the barrel," would be a far higher praise than it deserves. And so it is. Me and the computer tied together again in the wee hours of the morning trying to figure out which one should go to bed first. Usually the keyboard wins in that contest. If you've read any of my provious posts than you know the wit and coherence of the writing tapers off somewhere after "Hello," leaving me in a silent word driven spiral inevitably looking down the barrel of a cocked and loaded blog-post trying unleash itself on an unspecified and indifferent audience. Touche, keyboard, touche.
Tonights post though is not all about inanimate objects from which I draw my strength and personal narratives, not by a long shot (because frankly the passion that I have for my " Here today, Enema tomorrow:THE HOME KIT," would elicit a passage so long that I would lose the three of you reading this, and I have to give my audience what it wants). Tangent non-withstanding this post is not dedicated to things that can't talk back, but rather to those that can. Say something and marvel in it after all communicational capacity is a blessing not sprinkled on all our cupcakes. Bad jokes about the bevy of politicos who have been inhibited conversationally put aside, communicating is difficult at least for me. That helps keep it fresh and potent. Language is the new Cranberry Juice.
Which is why I dig on living so much. I suppose there's something to be learned from everything that can possibly acknowledge your presence reacting to you. From a looping, uber-verbose rambling blog, to the spit of a child carried on a miscreant wind, everything gives something.

Today has been filled, jam-packed and stuffed to the gills with goings on the likes of which have to led to the crumbling of empires and estates larger and more fantastic than mine. However, no matter what the external pressure, this Dynasty isn't going anywhere. I mean who brought death to the houses of 89 lords, me. Who personally oversaw the systematic arson of thousands of villages who dare stand in opposition, me. Who, when faced with a multitude humanitarian issues, opted to "just have another pop-tart, they'll figure it out," that's me again, me all over. So surely, I'm not going to let something as bee-stingish as required school work break me. Of course not.
As I can see the clock in my task bar trying ever so hard to pull itself up to the watershed moment that is three am, I find myself strangely wishing it was. There is something exotic about being up this late, something abstruse. It's almost as if being awake at this hour is an activity in and of itself. Simply being awake qualifies you as partaking in an anecdote and there's something about that which sits very well with me. Although there are downsides. Namely that you can't remember what you were thinking/writing about six seconds ago, but I rarely let that stop me from doing anything anyway. I've had mixed results.
Sleep seems to be a dish that is best when served warm, so I,tragically must end this post in order I might still catch my bed retaining some of the heat generated from the sun and heat before night fell in my room with its icy fingers methodically creeping up my pillow, I can see them now, and believe those are not good hands. Not like the ones that give these words to you. Supple and soft, conduits of communication. Although,I also scratch things with them.

Smoke 'em if you got 'em.