Holiday Review

Well I'm back in Wonderland. Christmas seems to move faster each year. When you're a kid, everything builds up to it. All you can think about are presents. As you age, you start to dread the family events with fear that you will have to talk to a bunch of older people you don't see that much. I think I've reached an in between period. I actually enjoy seeing the family. I feel like I can hold my own in conversation and talk intelligently. The only problem is fielding the same questions multiple times a night. This comes with moving across the country and never seeing these people save once every Christmas. Instead of visions of presents, I have visions of bills waiting for me when I return home. An uneasy feeling starts dwelling when you are away from what you are suppose to call your home for more than a week.

I did get to see some old friends. People I haven't seen or talked to in literal years. The same situation arises with them as well as family. Hard to get back onto track with the period of silence in between. Nevertheless very nice to visit and catch up.

I think the largest factor in my discomfort lately has been the lack of creative outlet. Taking engagement photos of Steve and Kiley and photos of their band Gentleman Auction House over the break definitely got me through the ten days. Other than that it was getting rough. Today I spent about three hours making a completely unnecessary web page just so I could design something. The next few photo sets I have lined up in January are something to look forward to. As of right now I don't have a return trip planned, so it may be nice to get settled here for a while.

No but seriously

Never ever ever ever ever lax again. I don't even want to get on my return flight in 10 days. My kingdom for a travel agent.
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A Saint of Sorts

I want to be a Boondock Saint. There. I said it. It's not that I just think they are cool or that I want to kill all the scum of the earth, just a few types. Two in particular, both involving cars.

1) Do not take your sweet ass time moving your fat ass through the cross walk. I am in a car. I am encased in steel. I win. I'm not saying you need to sprint across the street but don't crawl across while staring at me waiting for you so I can make a right hand turn.
2) Stop parking in the middle of the street. What in the hell are you possibly thinking?! I don't care if you put your hazards on or not (which you usually don't bother), there is no reason you have a immunity to the traffic laws.

Don't make me drop a toilet on your head people.

An Angry Open Letter to one Carl Jr.

Dear Mr. Jr.,

Listen up buddy, I've had about enough. Who do you think you are flaunting your new Portobello Mushroom Thickburger every fifteen minutes on television? This one doesn't even have an attractive girl and I've never wanted one more. So fine. You win. You knew you would. Oh look at that. Google maps found one of your establishments a mere two miles from my apartment. In a small eight minutes, the combo will be in my possession. Or so I thought. Way to go hiding the restaurant, but last time I checked, you want people to be able to find your product in order to...order it. This proves not to be the case with your downtown Los Angeles location as I circled the address twice and could not find it. FIne. A quick call to the roommate and I will be redirected to the next one.

Vermont and Normandie? Really Carl? How is it I can pass about a million Burger Kings and a dozen other fast food places, but I have to truck my ass all the way to Vermont and Normandie to find yours. Fine. It's fine. Sorry. I'm just having a bad day that's all. Oh here it comes up on the left. Hmm. No drive thu or parking lot. Ok. I'll just park half in the red and half in the yellow down the street. I'd like to see someone stop me from getting this burger now. If they can manage to tow my car in the time it takes you to whip up one of your combos then they can keep it.

There. Order placed. To go number 63. Now we play the waiting game. Shit. I forgot to say curly fries. Maybe I can ask...nevermind they just put the regular ones up there. I still blame you. Bag in hand I race out the door. I have precious little time to get all the way back home in time to enjoy my meal warm. Oh wonderful. Everyone else in Los Angeles also wants to hurry home right at this moment as well. Now what was suppose to have taken eight minutes has taken an hour.

The moment of truth. I do the little fast food dinner dance when I walk through my apartment door. Throw the keys and wallet. Kick off the shoes and grab a plate. This whole scene becomes a blur of panic as if the burger is going to disappear unless I eat it immediately. I take out my regular (dammit) fries and liberate the burger from its carton and wrapper. My that looks like a tasty burger. I quickly get comfortable lift the burger to my mouth, twisting it about trying to find out the best angle from which to take my first victorious bite. After I make my way past the entire head of lettuce they managed to cram on there, I sink my teeth into the cheesy mess of mushrooms and meat. Now it's been a while since I have had Hardees (the true name of your franchise). The one thing I remember is that it does not disappoint. And this was certainly no exception. This was indeed a delicious fast food burger. But it did not wow me. C'mon Carl. Hardee's less complex version of the Infamous number three, mushroom n swiss thickburger, leads in delicious points. I could have stopped at any other joint in my journey to yours and who knows, maybe next time I will.

You did this to yourself Carl.

Three Albums That Recently Changed My Life

Wilco - Sky Blue Sky

This album screams "Hey let's be depressed, but let's be ok with it." It's almost as if Jeff Tweedy tells a personal story on each track. I find myself singing certain tracks throughout the day as certain life events spark the need.


Stars - In Our Bedroom After the War

I listened to this entire album at least twice every week while traveling to various cities on a job. The ultimate plane album as you can just get lost in the personal lyrical exchange of Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan. Absolutely chilling and always beautiful.


Kings of Leon - Because of the Times

The distinct sound of three brothers and a cousin is never mistaken. The imperfect squeeks and yells compliment the complex guitar break downs. Perfect for listening at a small bar during happy hour while playing pool. If you can understand the lyrics, you'll start singing them with the deepest of feelings

My new years resolution

Never ever ever ever ever ever ever fly out of lax again.
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Pilgrims Blue Ribbon

Spent Thanksgiving at the beach again this year. I am thankful for many things, but right now it's the fact that tomorrow I can start playing Christmas music.

Here try this...

Latest Music Video

I shot this. Todd directed it. Song is Worn (and of plastic) by Dannel Vonn Dillon .



See a higher quality version on infatuationfilms.com . Look for it soon on Mtv2.

You walk on my subjects

You don't know this, but I take pictures of carpets. I had to type that out to see if it sounded any less sad than when I say it out loud. It doesn't. Let me try again. Hi, I take pictures of carpets. Hmm, maybe if I jazz it up a little. Why yes I am a photographer. What's that? Oh, you know, carpets, rugs, floor coverings in general.

I had to actually step back and question myself today on how I would light a bamboo rug so the light would rake off it leaving the slightest, natural glow. My professionalism in this matter astounds me. I work in a "studio" in the back of a warehouse by myself about once every two weeks and work with what I must say are very easy going models. They don't ask for bathroom or smoke breaks. They are perfectly comfortable just laying there flat on the ground. There's no problem that can't be fixed by an iron or some tape.

You can try and find what I have been doing at import flooring but I have no idea which one's I have done at this point. Well, ok, so far it is 11 rugs and 30 tile samples. It's not creative, but it's a paycheck. Look out Hollywood. I have arrived.

You are all best supporting roles in my dreams

I was running. It was a clearing with woods on either side. The path had some turns in it but was for the most part straight. The running was all intercut with what was to follow. A girl about my age ran up next to me. She was dressed in a yellow and red spandex type outfit with small yellow wings behind each ear, much like Mercury, the Roman messanger god. As she paced next to me she told me I would have a much better chance at winning if I would stop pulling up the path. As I looked down, I realized I was moving forward by pulling up the ground and pulling myself forward, much like a cartoon, except when they run the ground goes up behind them. I was using the rubbery ground to propel myself forward. After she informed me that, she started to run ahead of me. I pulled and pulled faster than ever and then eventually stopped and just started running normally. I diminished the distance between us and passed her right as I crossed through the finish line tape. Now for the intercutting part.

I found myself walking through a large house that I have never been to before. It held as many people as it possibly could, all of whom I knew. People from all periods of my life. People I see on a regular basis. People I haven't seen in years. As I wound my way through the crowded house, everyone just smiled and nodded their heads slightly. I knew why all these people were here. It was common knowledge. I had decided to kill myself and they were going to see me off. They didn't come to stop me or cheer me on. They came just to be there. The amount of people was overwhelming. As I made my way to the stairs, I came across my father, except he looked nothing like my father. He shook my hand and said he wises I didn't have to do it, but he understands and he'll miss me. I felt like I was floating through the house with a smile on my face as I nodded back to all the people in my life. I made my way up the stairs, which were also crowded, and heard my mother crying. I never got a look at her face, but she was on the ground in a room upstairs surrounded by more people. She was crying because she knew what was going to happen. I tried to keep the smile on my face, but kept breaking into a crying face. I put my hand on my mothers back and told her it was going to be alright. I had decided not to kill myself afterall. The people's reactions didn't really change.

Next thing I know I am at a Jack in the Box with some of the people from the house. It is just as packed and I am sitting in a booth in the middle catching up with a friend from high school.

Mandatory Getaway

While filling up my car for 3.29 a gallon, breathing nothing but pure McDonald fumes, and looking around at all the buildings and concrete, I have realized that I need to get away. We all need to get away. Let's all take a vacation. Wait. No. If we all do that, we will still be crowded, just in a better place. How about I just take a vacation? Ok. I want to be out where nothing else is. This may seem strange coming from someone who needs everything they need or don't need at their fingertips at all time, but wouldn't it be grand to not have a gas station or a McDonalds or whatever for miles and miles. Somewhere magical where you can't hear people honking. Somewhere where the same lady doesn't run up to you saying it is an emergency holding out her hand for money. Ahhhhh to dream.

On another note, I just killed 10+ maggots in our kitchen.
On a directly related note, I have signed a lease on a new place and will be moving in next week.

On the most important note, I just caught wind that it is Mohawktober. I have attempted it myself. Pictures to follow.

FX's Hottest New Show: Possum

Pilot Episode: Shakedown in Shitty Italy


"End of the line Possum!" shouted Officer Barnum Lexington. "This time you're done. Don't make this harder than it has to be."


"I can't go back there Lex," Possum calmly responded. "I belong out here, on the streets, like the bum I am. Besides, we both know I had nothing to do with Uncle Johnny's death."



"I know," Lexington softly said. "I know. But the boys down at the station aren't buying it. And I gotta do what I gotta do."

BANG!


"Possum? Possum get up. That was just a warning shot."


"Possum?"


"Oh my God. What have I done?"


"Possum you beautiful bastard. I know you were innocent. You were just too pretty to be caged."


"God dammit Possum!" *sob*


"How the hell am I going to explain this one to Cap? How the hell am I suppose to carry your heavy dead ass back to the car?"


Episode 2 coming soon!

Congatulations Poko and Wops

My two best friends have finally up and done it. Kiley and Steve will be united as one on August 30, 2008 and I could not be happier for them. I've been around for all of it minus my time here in LA and I know that they will live a long and happy life together. I tip my hat at my friends for finding the most impossible thing to find, true love.

And I yee I

I can now add bodyguard to Liam Neeson to my resume. Last night, along with another bodygaurd, I escorted Mr. Neeson to a fancy dinner meeting. I want to say it was at the Hyatt in Kansas City, but it was a little blurry. In fact I'm not even sure if it was Liam Neeson, but it looked a great deal like him. Anyway we were in the restaurant and we were told to go have a seat and he would catch up to us in a minute. Reluctantly we went to the table with the rest of the party, sat down, and scoped out the place. Cream tableclothes and fancy crystal as far as the eye could see. Everyone in the place was very well-to-do. Good thing the other bodygaurd and I were armed with katanas.

It had been a while and I was starting to get nervous. I decided to walk back out to the skywalk where Mr. Neeson last was. He was standing there chatting to an old man and as I approached he said there was nothing to worry about and he would be coming to dinner now. Just then on ther other side of the walkway, no more than fifty feet away stood a bald man in a tuxedo staring at us. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out an object. At the same time I popped my katana up from the sheath exposing the blade. The man yelled "Hey!" and started to run towards us. I pulled my katana completly out and started to charge the man. With one fluid motion I sliced his right side and had the blade pointed at his neck as he stopped. There was a small amount of blood already leaking from him and his neck was red where the tip of my sword met his skin. He was holding up the object. It was a cell phone. This man looked exactly like Rob Corddry. Everyone stood still. Mr. Neeson was very confused with a frightened look on his face. Corddry tried to laugh but found it difficult with my blade pressed against his neck. He uttered "I mean, would you mind calling me?" I slowly looked back at Mr. Neeson who gave me the look as if he did not know this man. I lowered my blade and Corddry bent over placing his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. I walked back to Mr. Neeson and he whispered to me "Don't worry. He had a knife right?" I told him I saw an object, he yelled, and charged. Even though it was only a cell phone, it was still a threat. He looked at me with fixed eyes and said more sternly "No. He had a knife. We have no need to explain ourselves."

Mr. Neeson went to his table and somehow I went back to a table where my family was sitting. My mother couldn't believe I hurt the man when he didn't do anything. My father argued with her that he was going to do something and that I did the right thing. My brother agreed. And that's when I woke up.

Connected via wormhole

Now that I am able to/figured out how to blog with my mobile phone, there is going to be a substantial increase in near car accidents and thumb sprains.
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Morning of the Living Jackhammer

8 o'clock? Really? Well then this is what happens when you wake me up.

The repetitive hammering pierced through my single pane windows and sent tremors into my ribcage. This couldn't be an earthquake. Earthquakes aren't powered by a humming generator and mexican foreman yelling commands. They don't make pillow cases that go deep enough into ears to stop this. Suddenly the noise stops prompted by the most gruesome scream one could gargle. Then silence. My eyes shift back and forth wondering if it is safe to go to sleep or how much time I should spend thinking about what could have caused this deafness in my favor. Some unrecognizable mutter is exchanged. Then the beast fires back up and the concrete resumes it's demise. At this point I have to believe that city workers witnessed an accident with an easy solution provided by the fresh hole before them. The perfect concrete coffin. After all, the worker had a track record of missing days. As far as they are concerened, this was just another day he didn't clock in. In preparation for his return, I have started to fortify my home. Slaying a jackhammer carrying zombie will require a great deal of creativity.

Updates as warranted.

Superheros dream too

Another bizare dream. They are coming more often lately. This one was fun and I swear I was talking it out loud. I somehow dreamt the opening to the new Batman and Robin film. I'm not even sure if one is coming out or not, but I started it for them.

So I was playing the part of Robin. I have no idea where Batman was, but I was with Catwoman. At least I think it was Catwoman. It was a female villian, I know that. Anyway, neither of us were our alter ego. We were just our normal selves, she didn't know I was Robin, but I knew she was a villian but she didn't know that. We were at her place I think. It was very white and almost hotel-ish. It was obvious we had been on a date and were flirting. Lots of laughs and lens flares coming in through an open window. Outside, no more than a foot below the bottom of the window there was a sea of water as far out as I could see. We were talking and laughing and I picked her up and spun her around. She said something to the effect that she would have to be careful or she might fall for me. I asked if there was any chance that might happen tonight as I carried her closer to the window. She said no, and I said that's too bad. Her face went from laughing to fearfully understanding and I softly threw her out of the window into the water and closed the window as she cursed back at me. Then the opening credits started with various shots of Batman and I running. That's when I woke up.

Back to the Past

Lately I have been thinking. I try to shy away from such strenuous activities, but it has been unavoidable recently. What I can't stop thinking about is life back then. My life back then, not like, back in the 50s. Back in St. Louis. Back where everything seemed to make sense and was easier. The last house I lived in just sold. The amount of memories attached with it are infinite. My roomate and I would joke about if things didn't work out in LA, we always had the lodge to go back to. I could never do that, but entertaining the thought was comforting.

Something hit me while driving down the freeway the other day. That seems to give ample amount to reflect since 75% of life in Los Angeles is driving on the freeway. I tried to figure out what it was that was missing. I stumbled across a big answer. Back in St. Louis, if I was on a highway, there was a good chance that I was either going to see some friends, or I was going home from seeing friends. I don't do that here. Back home I would know that I would soon be greated by a familiar smiling face. Here I am greeted by the mound of hassle that accompanies every trip out the house.

I'm not really sure what happened. Maybe it is being use to hosting house parties every week and now having none. Maybe it is the cost of living. Maybe it is just being out of college. Maybe it is the friends and lack there of. Something has changed. Something even greater will change at the end of November when I move as well.

Let me tell you why Jesus is my favorite zombie: An Essay by condition d

Let me tell you why Jesus is my favorite zombie. Oh don't sound shocked. All the facts are there. He is just merely a much cleaner and sophisticated one. Did he or did he not rise up from the dead? I guarantee that if you leave a zombie in a grave, he won't be there in three days. Holy or not, undead is undead. Chirst is the superior zombie because he is quick and agile, possibly with the gift of flight. He doesn't lower himself by having an addiction to brains. He is smart enough to know that their is no nutritional value in the brain. Souls are where all the protein is. Realizing that the son of God is a zombie has brought light on another terrifying science fact. His friends, they all drank his blood right. Vampires. This all just further proves two of the coolest scary stories ever. But now we have something else to worry about. If they weren't powerful enough on their own, I don't want to imagine a race of hybrid vampire zombies. I think we are safe for now though. After all, last time I checked, Jesus was on our side. Lets just hope he keeps his appetite to that of a Nicole Ritchie.

light, camera, photos

So I finally got my light that I ordered 2 weeks ago. It's small, but it is a start. Once I figure everything out about it, I will be able to harness it's powers and churn out some new stuff. God bless the people at alien bees for making nice lights at an afordable price.

Relatable

"Beverly Hills, the Upper East Side, Palm Beach, these days, Angel Delaporte says, even the best part of any city is just a deluxe luxury suite in hell. Outside your front gates, you still have to share the same gridlocked streets. You and the homeless drug addicts, you still breathe the same stinking air and hear the same police helicopters chasing criminals all night. The stars and the moon erased by the lights from a million used car lots. Everyone crowds the same sidewalks, scattered with garbage, and sees the same sunrise bleary and red behind smog."

excerpt from Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, quite possibly my favorite author.

Fashion Alert

Announcing the reletively new site I have made to keep my photography separate from my motion work. It samples some of my recent work, as well as some golden oldies. Hopefully over the next few months I will have a significant amount to add, including some more extreme and artistic choices. Perhaps you should keep an eye or two out.

infatuationphotos.com

Misery loves companies

I don't know when the shift of "me pay you money, you do me service" happened, but I'm starting to feel like I'm babysitting some of these companies. No not the one dollar suckie suckie services. The actual services that every man, woman, and man on this rock. If I give money to the post office for stamps, and I adhere said stamp to an envelope, place said envelope into an official United States Postal Service container, I can only assume that my part of the transaction is complete. A very generous postal employee is suppose to take my mail and deliver it to the address that I have specified on the envelope. If I'm wrong, I'll shut the hell up right now. Now mail within this country is delivered in what, three, four days at the most. I could understand it taken a bit longer if I were to mail something across the country, but I'm pretty sure the USPS has since dumped their pony express and started using airplanes. So one could only assume that mailing something to a location ten miles away would fall within the three to four day delivery period. It seems that this task is now taking a week or more to be completed.

Now the USPS is only one name on my long list of incompetence. The next is simply one letter off. The United Parcels Service are certainly wearing the correct color to match their impeccable service. I cannot understand paying six to ten dollars to have something delivered in a week, IF you are lucky. That can be understandable, but only if that completes your transaction. But when the company makes a mistake, or a fault is on their end, shouldn't it be their responsibility to right the wrong as soon as possible? I recieved a photo strobe in the mail today. I have been waiting for it for a week, carefully planning shoots upon its arrival. When it shows up, it doesn't work. They have to send me another one, which will take another week. Now I have my thumb up my ass with a non working light in my sight. They have faster methods than the week long ground transporatation. THEIR light doesn't work. I should have a light sooner than later being it their product that though delivered does not deliver.

It's almost the same with a certain pair of shoes I ordered. I love the company so they will remain nameless, but back in early June I ordered a pair of shoes and some sunglasses. Well the shoes showed up, in the wrong size, and the sunglasses were not included. So i called it in right away and sent the shoes back in exchange for the correct size. The sunglasses later came in the mail. The shoes...still not here. I've called twice now and they don't know why they haven't sent them, but do have the record of them suppose to send them. Now instead of shoes (which they have 72 pairs of my size in stock) I am awaiting a gift card (which is what I orginaly paid for with).

Earlier this month I had the pleasure to deal with my car insurance in a similar "watchdog" way. They kept sending me notices that they were going to cancel my policy. I kept calling them to figure out why. Each time I called, they informed me that they didn't know why I was recieving the notices, because everything on my account was ok. Eventually I recieved a letter saying that they had indeed cancelled me. I called and asked to speak directly to the manager. Due to some computer error and after pulling a recorded conversation from me and an agent earlier that month, it went from my policy being cancelled to it being reinstated with no cacellation fee (how dare they even consider charging me for nothing) and a twenty dollar check because I had actually overpaid.

Bottom line: Why are we paying these companies all these dollars to screw us when we don't look? You can't even just watch your back anymore because they will attack you from all damn sides.

Kartoon Komotion

Take a look back with me, if you will, at the well rounded and wholesome cartoons that use to fill our heads with sometimes seizure inducing but always morally ended visions of joy. Who can forget shows such as Voltron: Defender of the Universe, King Arthur and the Knights of Justice, and Captain N the Game Master (ok you may have forgotten that one. Those gems offered little kids, mainly boys, the 30 minutes of action packed illustrations their small minds needed to make it through to the next Saturday morning. Let go back even farther to some nonviolent options that even the UN could agree on.

Smurfs. Snorks. And Scooby Do's. All relatively calm. Some with a reoccuring, masterminded villian out to get them. Somehow, usually through teamwork and kindness, they would triumph over the wrong of the "bad guy" and learn a little something about themselves. The importance of each lesson was that a non-violent solution was on average the best. But come on. You may be able to fool a child, but I am older now and have devoloped my brain in such a way as to not fall for the kiddie krap anymore. You had to see this coming Mr. Evil Producer Man.

Surely there were the rebel characters in your farce. Somwhere hidden behind Sneezey, Doppy, and Drippy stood Bomby or Shooty. Did Hanna Barbera ship all their "remedial" toons to an Australian like island out of the viewer's sight? Is there a Disney Alcatraz no one is admitting to? More importantly, how much longer are we safe until these characters rise up and take back the attention they so rightfully deserve.

Perhaps that is exactly what has happened. After all, cartoons today aren't exactly as sugar coated as they use to be. It could just be a matter of time before one of these kids from South Park impregnates Dora. I just pray global warming wipes us out before that happens.

Copy that

Two (out of three) of God's finest horses. Hubert and Peanutbutter Mouth. (Peanutbutter Mouth not pictured)

Upoultrysties

Every once and a while a deal comes along that you can not pass up. You know the feeling. In the grocery store, out of the corner of your eye, a yellow price tag grabs hold of your attnetion and pulls you in like a tractor beam that will not release you until you are fully aware of the eighty five cents you could very well save on E.L.Fudge cookies if you were to buy two packages.

This deal I speak of may trump even the smartest shopper's big fish story (the deal was thiiiiiis big). Everyone knows the hassles of furniture shopping. If it were easy, we would all update our feng shui more often. That's where your new best friends come in. Frankie and Johnnie are here to help you with the stress of buying your next living room set as well as the decision of what to eat for dinner tonight. You say you say you say how is that possible? It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter if you have a social security number. So help him God, if you spend one thousand of your hard earned monies at their establishment, Frankie will see to it that you walk away with a slightly warm ten piece chicken set to go with your slightly stained three piece bedroom set. And Johnnie is there to let you have it, even if he has to use his jedi mind powers to set it right.

So even if you are newlywed or newlydead, they will say yes to your credit (with approved credit, select items only, excludes other discounts). Yet just another reason to visit St. Claude.

Spidey loves Mary Jane

Am I the one that is going to have to do this? It is with a heavy heart that I would have to, but here goes. The beloved Peter Parker (sigh), has fallen to a darker side. No, not the venomous dark side of venom, but the chronic dark side of...well, chronic.

Hear me out. Young Peter. Poor Peter. Living with his elderly, widowed aunt. He tries to help out by working at a pizza delivery place as well as taking pictures for the local newspaper. Now let's face it, Aunt May is not getting any younger. She begins using medical marijuana to aid in her decreasing vision. After forgetful Aunt May leaves it out on the kitchen counter one night, the desperate young Peter's spidey sense goes off and he thinks of a way to earn a little extra cash for the house.

It starts off small. He'll only take a little each week and sell it on his pizza route. He is amazed at how quickly and lucrative the plan worked. Each week he takes a little more. Each week he tells his aunt that her memory must be fading or she may need a stronger dose for her eyes. Before long, he starts trying the merchandise himself. Not only does he find that his vision increases as well, but he also starts feeling...well, really super. It's only a matter of time that his side business has him "swinging" around town, making deliveries in some pretty shady areas, encroaching on other dealers turf.

Now Peter has more to worry about than taking care of his pothead aunt. These other dealers have been at it a while and they mean business. They have the type of money to buy mechanical arms and exploding pumpkins to keep their street cred. One of them is made out of sand for crying out loud. With all of this new drama, the neighborhood's friendly weed slinger is forced to hide his identity by wearing a mask. Seemed like only yesterday he was nervous about talking to Mary Jane. Now, he can't seem to let her go.

It takes two

In the race to become the next leader of the free world, there are many choices. This could be the first time in our independence with a president of a different look, be it race or gender. So why not twins? And while we explore that path, what better twins than the young Olsens. Think about it. Better yet, don't think about it, just get out there and do your civil duty by writing in your vote. It doesn't even have to be election day, just do it. If you need further proof, just check out their policy regarding the naval force. So they would make a few changes? Bend a few rules? Why not? It's about time this nation updated their uniforms with a little dash of ultra green.

All I'm saying is this election, have some common sense. Let's elect the only team that can turn the White House into the Full House. They already have a Bill Clinton impersonator's approval, it is only a matter of time before they show Giuliani what they can do in a real New York minute.

and I'm proud to be an American

Dream 2 - WVA trilogy

Coming home to the Webster Village Apartments was weird. Even though I was a resident there, I handn't been there in some time. As Brooke and I walk past the mailboxes, I notice Eric is checking his mail. Eric is a friend of mine from high school whom I have not gotten the chance to speak to since he went into the military and thus over to the middle east shortly after graduation. Brooke keeps walking as Eric and I chat, but it is like he had not been missing from my life. As we walk toward our building (he lives on the parking lot side and I live on the street side), he hands me two pieces of my mail that were in with his. "Gee I wonder what I'll find in mine," I say as I flip through my own. Sure enough I have two pieces of his mail as well.

As I start walking up the stairs to my apartment I am going through the various envelopes. Citi card offer, Bank of America statement, something from a lawyer wanting to help with a recent speeding ticket, but the thing that confuses me the most is that scotch tapped to the last one is a bluish grey, bubble wrap envelope. I'm not sure what is inside.

As I reach the third floor and approach my door, I notice that someone had tapped something to the door and left a sign. On a green piece of paper in darker green puff paint, their is a note from Jennifer. She had stopped by to see me but I was out so she will see if she sees me later. P.S. she added an accessory to the door. The exact time (1:08 or 1:27 I think) was listed at the top. On the right side of the sign in green and gold is written "accentuate". This explains the object tapped to the door. It is a grey towel wrapped around the already existing large gold handle/knocker that is located in the middle of the door. The duct tape is going in long diagonal fashions across most of the door. I am relieved that it wasn't a note from Tucker saying that I haven't been around to help out around the apartment or that the door knocker has been too loud.

The door is partially open as I am taking in all of this and still glancing back to the mystery package in hand. Just then the door opens a little more and a woman steps out from behind it. "Hey Dave," greets a once psychology teacher but since then dater of Tuck. I have seen this person before, but am not even sure if my description is accurate. Startled that shes there and blanking on her name, I muster out "Oh...hey." She is in a dark maroon dress with a black sheer outer layer. She awkwardly moves her arms at her sides and in a shy voice states "I...I've put on a few pounds." The way she talks is a way that we both know she is of authority over me, but is down on my level by being on my turf for my roomate. My silence while my brain decides what to say without being generic prompts her to speak again. "You can't really tell though," she mutters almost under her breath, almost avoiding eye contact. "Well I certainly don't see it," I say moving into my apartment. The apartment feel so weird because I have been away from it for so long. Where I don't know. Everything in the room resembles a more grown up atmosphere. The cheap blue furniture is replaced by a more sophisticated cream color made of a finer suade-like material. As I farmiliarize myself with my surroundings by walking around, placing down my mail (except for the package), and turning on a rather stylish light in the corner, the woman and I stumble over if her sudden on and off weight issue and consider the fact that it could be a medical problem.

That's about where it ends. Previously I had moved back into the WVA and was roomates with a girl from one of my classes. We were both still in the move in phase and didn't really talk much but were both trying to figure out the kitchen, which was so high tech it was ridiculous. I'm talking an oven/refridgerator/tv that transformed out of where the table counter was. Next I would find myself moving in with Will. I took the room farthest from the door and remember that he had a friend over that was sitting on the couch. Nothing too striking in the previous instances, but this does make three.

The reality: The articles of mail I flipped through I had recieved prior in the day. All except the mystery envelope. Jennifer had done something nice. Instead of a sign, it was cleaning the floors. Nathan had wondered early what had happened to Tuck. I did not know, and I did not see him in the dream. I have been losing weight and I am off my medicine.

I just remembered who the lady at my apartment actually was. She was a high school teacher that I never had, not a psychology teacher. I always felt like even though we never really interacted that there was tension between us. She almost seemed threatened of my strong relationships with the rest of the staff and my ability to roam around due to my independent student status.

Dream 1 - Shiver me timbers

I'm not really sure how it happened, but one of my toes had to be cut off, which somehow required me to get a peg leg. My right leg looked like it just got shorter though. My other toes were still there at the end of my leg, but my leg ended around mid shin. Now I'm pretty sure that a doctor amputated my toe, but they didn't have any fancy or custom replacement legs so they gave me what looked to be a wooden stick with a bowl on top (arrggg).

So equiped with my wonderful pirate technology, I found myself at the house I grew up at where apperently my family was having some sort of a get together. I remember showing my mom and trying not to fall into the pool as I hobbled around. Come to think of it now that I am typing, it almost seems as if I was just bending my normal size leg and leaning on the peg leg. Hmm.

Anyway, next I did what anybody with a severed toe or lazy liar would do and I became a nanny. I was in a house with two parents and their three kids (boy-10, girl-7, boy-5). The dad and kids loved me but the mom was skeptical (I think it may have been the peg leg). I pretended there was nothing wrong with me, until I started making jokes about it. I asked the kids if they liked pirates, then turned to the parents and said "guess I know what I'm being for Halloween next year" after which I promptly fell over. I also remember grocery shopping with them. Needless to say, I think I got the job.

When I woke, my right leg was numb below the knee. Yeah. And here I was starting to get excited about my peg leg.