It's Serious Now
Now that I'm typing on my laptop, it's serious. There is no going back now. If at first one may have thought that I had simply created this out of a boredom driven largely by my parents behemoth of a computer, well, we've disspelled that now, haven't we.
Several college students were recently killed when they climbed inside of an air balloon. I'd send you the link to the story, but you really shouldn't have to read anymore than you've already read just there. College has become this thing in the news lately, and it's like the media is just observing a phenomenon of the college system. You get like thousands of people between the ages of 19 and 22 together someplace and, regardless of their academic pursuits, they are going to do the dumbest shit imaginable on their downtime, and, apparently, it's going to occassionally get them killed.
Imagine what you must feel when you get that phone call from the school or whatever. You've been paying tuition, your son is getting pretty good grades, and all of a sudden "Bad news Mrs. Johnson, we found him in an air balloon."
It's really sad and all, but how can you not react by thinking, "Just what the fuck was that idiot doing in an air balloon?"
I feel like I should make it clear that they weren't in the air in the basket being lifted by the balloon, they were actually IN the balloon itself. Death by Mylar (tm).
I just watched the Enron documentary, and it was really good, but I had the first song on the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah album stuck in my head for the whole thing, so I couldn't follow a lot of the financial talk. Actually, every time I hear someone start talking about any semblence of the stock market, I hear that song:
Just clap your hands!
But I feel so lonely.
Clap your hands!
But it won't do nothing.
Just clap your hands!
But I have no money.
When I first bought that album I had never heard the band before, and for a moment, about thirty seconds into the first song, I thought I'd made a terrible ten dollar mistake. Turns out it's a good album, and I didn't make a mistake, and everything is going to be just fine.
- - - -
Bonnaroo tickets arrived in the mail today, and they're about as impressive as you can imagine (here's an old one), which I am happy about, because I paid two hundred dollars. It should have a hologram of Tom Petty that pops up and tells me that I'm his "only hope" then offers me weed, real weed, not hologram weed.
So yeah, in short, for two hundred dollars, I feel that I should get to see a bunch of awesome bands AND smoke weed with a Star Wars style hologram of Tom Petty.
With the tickets came a sheet of paper that outlined the rules and regulations for this event. Now, first of all, if you can't get one hippy to follow one rule, how do you expect to get thirty thousand hippes to follow like twenty rules? Things like this form their own rules. Rule # 1 for instance might involve grilled cheese sandwiches and LSD, not "Respect For Event Staff Members."
They're trying to push you to leave the area really clean by the end of the festival with the age old saying, "Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories."
Ok, so do we burn all the garbage or what? If I'm only leaving footprints, I'm either taking the garbage or I'm burning it. And what about all of my shit? I'm pretty sure I came here with a cooler and a tent and a bunch of other people, but I'monly leaving with memories? So they're suggesting that I'm either going to be robbed or lobotimized? I don't get it. And at what point does Jesus carry me in that little proverb?
I bet Dave Matthews fucking wrote that shit.
I am so glad that Dave Matthews isn't playing. The only benefit of Dave Matthews playing at Bonnaroo would be the fact that I wouldn't be going, and thus would be two hundred dollars richer than I am at the moment.
I'm preparing myself as best I can for Tennessee. I have the new magic Neutrogena Sunscreen that has something new and European in it, and I plan on buying several pairs of running shorts and tank tops from American Apparel this week.
I'm dead serious.
I'm also considering buying a bunch of NASCAR merchandise to scatter around the car, just in case we get pulled over at some point. It might counteract the fact that we have Massachusetts plates.
"Now yall know that on this here stretch a high way we's... Is that a dang Dale Jarret medallion?"
"Fuckin right. And that's a Jimmy Williams decoder ring if ever I've seen one."
"You yankees is alright."
"And your southern ignorance is staggering."
- - - -
My uncle said that he went to a NASCAR event with some potential customers or something in Nashville or somewhere (the details are sketchy, I'm not even entirely sure what he does, he works for a consulting firm, but isn't a consultant... the word "demographics" comes to mind) and he said that the most unbelieveable thing happened in this sea of people.
He was sitting in the grandstand, and this guy stood up, shirtless, sunburned, hammered out of his mind. He turned around for a few rotations before yelling:
"JEFF GORDON IS A SISSY BITCH AND DALE JARRETT IS THE GREATEST DRIVER TO EVER RACE AND THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS! NOW IF ANYONE'S GOT ANYTHING TO SAY OTHERWISE, I'LL KICK THEIR ASS!"
Everyone ignored the guy, just like you try to ignore the homeless guy on the train who keeps asking you where the pussy is, but remember, this is the south, so you can't be quick to say that EVERYONE ignored him. The fact is that almost everyone ignored him.
Sure enough, someone else stood up (a few rows back, too, so not someone who was offended by this man's behavior, someone who actually took a personal affront to what he was saying) and sure enough, he got his ass kicked.
What was interesting was the fact that the second man, as my uncle told me, made it very clear before he got his ass kicked that he wasn't offended by the statement that Jeff Gordon was a sissy bitch, but by the assumption that Dale Jarrett was the greatest driver ever.
Everyone knows Gordon is a bitch. But how dare you defile the name Earnhardt.
Hey, good luck with Monday everyone. Doesn't Monday suck no matter what you're doing? It does. Good luck getting through that.
Several college students were recently killed when they climbed inside of an air balloon. I'd send you the link to the story, but you really shouldn't have to read anymore than you've already read just there. College has become this thing in the news lately, and it's like the media is just observing a phenomenon of the college system. You get like thousands of people between the ages of 19 and 22 together someplace and, regardless of their academic pursuits, they are going to do the dumbest shit imaginable on their downtime, and, apparently, it's going to occassionally get them killed.
Imagine what you must feel when you get that phone call from the school or whatever. You've been paying tuition, your son is getting pretty good grades, and all of a sudden "Bad news Mrs. Johnson, we found him in an air balloon."
It's really sad and all, but how can you not react by thinking, "Just what the fuck was that idiot doing in an air balloon?"
I feel like I should make it clear that they weren't in the air in the basket being lifted by the balloon, they were actually IN the balloon itself. Death by Mylar (tm).
I just watched the Enron documentary, and it was really good, but I had the first song on the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah album stuck in my head for the whole thing, so I couldn't follow a lot of the financial talk. Actually, every time I hear someone start talking about any semblence of the stock market, I hear that song:
Just clap your hands!
But I feel so lonely.
Clap your hands!
But it won't do nothing.
Just clap your hands!
But I have no money.
When I first bought that album I had never heard the band before, and for a moment, about thirty seconds into the first song, I thought I'd made a terrible ten dollar mistake. Turns out it's a good album, and I didn't make a mistake, and everything is going to be just fine.
- - - -
Bonnaroo tickets arrived in the mail today, and they're about as impressive as you can imagine (here's an old one), which I am happy about, because I paid two hundred dollars. It should have a hologram of Tom Petty that pops up and tells me that I'm his "only hope" then offers me weed, real weed, not hologram weed.
So yeah, in short, for two hundred dollars, I feel that I should get to see a bunch of awesome bands AND smoke weed with a Star Wars style hologram of Tom Petty.
With the tickets came a sheet of paper that outlined the rules and regulations for this event. Now, first of all, if you can't get one hippy to follow one rule, how do you expect to get thirty thousand hippes to follow like twenty rules? Things like this form their own rules. Rule # 1 for instance might involve grilled cheese sandwiches and LSD, not "Respect For Event Staff Members."
They're trying to push you to leave the area really clean by the end of the festival with the age old saying, "Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories."
Ok, so do we burn all the garbage or what? If I'm only leaving footprints, I'm either taking the garbage or I'm burning it. And what about all of my shit? I'm pretty sure I came here with a cooler and a tent and a bunch of other people, but I'monly leaving with memories? So they're suggesting that I'm either going to be robbed or lobotimized? I don't get it. And at what point does Jesus carry me in that little proverb?
I bet Dave Matthews fucking wrote that shit.
I am so glad that Dave Matthews isn't playing. The only benefit of Dave Matthews playing at Bonnaroo would be the fact that I wouldn't be going, and thus would be two hundred dollars richer than I am at the moment.
I'm preparing myself as best I can for Tennessee. I have the new magic Neutrogena Sunscreen that has something new and European in it, and I plan on buying several pairs of running shorts and tank tops from American Apparel this week.
I'm dead serious.
I'm also considering buying a bunch of NASCAR merchandise to scatter around the car, just in case we get pulled over at some point. It might counteract the fact that we have Massachusetts plates.
"Now yall know that on this here stretch a high way we's... Is that a dang Dale Jarret medallion?"
"Fuckin right. And that's a Jimmy Williams decoder ring if ever I've seen one."
"You yankees is alright."
"And your southern ignorance is staggering."
- - - -
My uncle said that he went to a NASCAR event with some potential customers or something in Nashville or somewhere (the details are sketchy, I'm not even entirely sure what he does, he works for a consulting firm, but isn't a consultant... the word "demographics" comes to mind) and he said that the most unbelieveable thing happened in this sea of people.
He was sitting in the grandstand, and this guy stood up, shirtless, sunburned, hammered out of his mind. He turned around for a few rotations before yelling:
"JEFF GORDON IS A SISSY BITCH AND DALE JARRETT IS THE GREATEST DRIVER TO EVER RACE AND THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS! NOW IF ANYONE'S GOT ANYTHING TO SAY OTHERWISE, I'LL KICK THEIR ASS!"
Everyone ignored the guy, just like you try to ignore the homeless guy on the train who keeps asking you where the pussy is, but remember, this is the south, so you can't be quick to say that EVERYONE ignored him. The fact is that almost everyone ignored him.
Sure enough, someone else stood up (a few rows back, too, so not someone who was offended by this man's behavior, someone who actually took a personal affront to what he was saying) and sure enough, he got his ass kicked.
What was interesting was the fact that the second man, as my uncle told me, made it very clear before he got his ass kicked that he wasn't offended by the statement that Jeff Gordon was a sissy bitch, but by the assumption that Dale Jarrett was the greatest driver ever.
Everyone knows Gordon is a bitch. But how dare you defile the name Earnhardt.
Hey, good luck with Monday everyone. Doesn't Monday suck no matter what you're doing? It does. Good luck getting through that.
posted by AM at 11:01 PM
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