the meat man

I don't ordinarily consider myself one of those people who enjoys thumbing through a People magazine or the National Star or whatever celeb gossip pages the tweens are buzzing about. In fact, I would say I pride myself on the fact that I couldn't pick Hannah Montana out of the line up of Melrose Place. Yesterday, however, I had a sighting that made my pants really dirty really quick; Stew, the meat man.

Stew, of course, appeared in the three season long Comedy Central series Strangers With Candy. The show is an after school special featuring Amy Sedaris as a 46 year old ex-boozer/user/loser who returns to high school to make the same mistakes, but this time she's doing it the right way. The series, which also featured Paul Dinello and Stephen Colbert, is bar none my favorite show that has ever appeared on television. Between the series and the 2003 movie, guest appearances were made by Paul Rudd, Winona Ryder, Will Ferrell, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Sarah Jessica Parker, Cheri Oteri, Matthew Broderick, Janeane Garofalo and more. To see Stew, then, turned me back into a 15 year old girl clamoring to see JC Chavez after the fall of the N*Sync empire.



I'm at home in Illinois writing this post after a mid-finals family wedding break. My cousin Pat was married last night, and for me the wedding was a perfect union of drinking and dancing. Particularly, I thoroughly enjoy seeing those periphery family friends I would never have otherwise seen or spoken to. There's something about seeing a few of the folks that formed memories my brain has intentionally repressed today, in their current state, that is oddly gratifying. Not to mention that the Napleton family is bigger and baudier than your average room full of car dealers.

*****************************************

Gambling, anyone? I placed my first bet on a sports betting website called CentSports this morning, Cubs over Diamondbacks on the money line. The site is a free site where you are originally given $0.10 and may place bets with Vegas odds on most games, and potentially win actual cash. Ordinarily I wouldn't bother to investigate a sites real potential to cash out, but I give props my teammate Yosef who has already cashed a check from the site for introducing me to it. On the plus side, anytime you lose the original ten cents, you get another ten cents. The site derives profit entirely from advertisements, and you'll never have to gamble away that new kidney money!

videohoes

Check these out, because it's good for your soul;

Horrible People
A mini soap-drama with members from the cast of Wet Hot American Summer and Flight of the Conchords created by A.D. Miles. Watch the teaser, and you'll be saying, "tough titty said the kitty, but the milk's still good" in no time.

Wainy Days
For any fans of Amy Sedaris, Michael Showalter, and Stella; check out this mini-series. It's a little off-beat and more absurd, but still has the ability to induce involuntary urination. Peep this episode featuring Paul Rudd as 'Mystery'-ous dating expert, Alias.


***********************************************


Meanwhile, here comes two very shitty weeks of academics. For all those who find themselves cramming this week just to puke it out next week, I raise a silent fist to you.

Notre Dame, Stumble

Don't hate, quit hating, don't be a hater, stop continuing to possess hatred... It's been a long hiatus. So it's been a while, so I've been "masturbating" and "crying" too much and haven't been writing; don't get all sensitive. It's not you babe, it's me.

I have been reasonably busy. Not busy like having a full-time job, or a part-time job, but busy like drinking all the hours I'm not studying. Most recently, I've accomplished perhaps the biggest feat of my excessive college experience. The warm weather arrived about two weeks ago in Madison, and after the veritable motherfucker of a winter, was welcomed with open beers. Thus began a nine day bender that can be summed up in a few words; Chicago Cubs, Wii bowling, Old Style, the porch, pornography, Samba music, and more pornography. My roommate John and I were the only two in the house with the cajones to make it all nine days, but I guess that's just what separates the alcoholics from the boys.

Two weeks ago, I went down to visit my sister Katie at Notre Dame. The Saturday of that weekend was an event the Irish call Pigtostal, which makes shit for sense except that it's a pig roast. After some careful coordination, I was able to spend Friday night at the University of Illinois with my dime-breezy Natalie as well as my favorite Bass Wrangler (though he specializes in Mogans) Pat. After leaving at the buttcrack of dawn, we met my brother Matthew and Katie and began the festivities.

I'll preface my next comment with a disclaimer: I do not normally speak favorably of the University of Notre Dame. It is not far down the list of things I hate beyond #2 sticky hands, or #3 running. That said, I had a great time at the party and later that night. Looking back, my surprisingly fun time can be explained by simple mathematics. According to the Associative Property, it is given that,
a.)I have fun with Katie and
b.)Katie has fun with friends

IF
Danny + Katie = fun
Katie + Katie's friends = fun
THEN
Danny + Katie's friends = Lucky for Katie's friends




Think about it. I haven't.

*********************************************

In other news, if you are looking to forfeit your free time and get in touch with that inner geek, check out Stumble Upon. It's a internet surfing tool that fits in the toolbar of your web browser that puts preset categories of random interesting websites just one click away. By giving a website a thumbs up or thumbs down, the program determines which sites other users have found interesting that you are more likely to enjoy. Basically, the longer you do it, the better it gets at giving you pages you are going to like. Beware; by turning your porno machine into a bona fide web browser, expect to waste countless hours.

terrace, shamrocks

It's only a few hours until my geology exam, and I'm too anxious to sleep. I'm not particularly anxious for the exam, just the ending the year and moving out part, followed by the three months at home part, and the endless shuffle of work.

The past two weeks have been a blur. I, in my naivety, had planned on not drinking both the week prior to finals, the weekend, and the week of finals. On the friday of the last day of classes, I was grocery shopping with my dear friend Kelly when my water polo teammate called me to inform me that he had just finished his last class at UW, and that he would be drinking a few beers and playing cards at the terrace at the union. So my other teammate Sam and I met up with Alex, planning on a few beers and leaving after an hour or two. Seven hours, countless pitchers, and many laughs later left me stumbling into my dorm at midnight, 36 hours from the start of my exams. While not exactly the best start to finals week, I don't have an ounce of regret.

Monday night, however, after three days of intensive studying and three exams, I was looking to go out. My first exam was a casual conversation with my TA and my partner, Louise. Louise is graduating this week, and upon completion of her thesis was looking to start a week long bender, of which I could only oblige in helping her. I met up with her at the Come Back Inn, a solid bar with live music and a $2 margarita special that will leave you saying, "I wish I hadn't flashed that cop in Taco Bell through the window." After a few drinks, I was about ready to get home when Louise's friends decided to head to another bar, so I decided to tag along while we headed in the same direction. The Come Back Inn was far from my dorm, and as I got lost in conversation I ended up at the door of the next bar.

I was already out, and it started to rain so I stopped inside for a drink while the rain died down. When I walked in the bar I began to put together some clues I had missed along the night. Louise's friend, Brian, had just come home after a trip abroad, and was fairly vocal that he was looking for some ass. I'm a believer in the healing power of TLC, especially after a long trip abroad, and because Brian was gay didn't make him immune. There weren't too many people at the Come Back Inn on that Monday of finals week, and the scene was very casual. So that when we finally went to second bar, I should have assumed it was a gay bar. Maybe it was the fact I'd never been to a gay bar, or that the name Shamrocks doesn't have a ring to it like 'The Nut Bush' in Oak Park, but I'd been caught off guard. So I stayed close to Louise, half in an attempt to chat before I headed back to Chicago, half out of unwillingness to move around the room. Once I went to the bar to get a drink, the bar tender asked me for a second form of ID, which I didn't have, so I left. I walked the rest of the way back to my dorm, and I could only laugh when I told my floor mates to ask me about it in the morning. Only on a monday night of finals week in Madison, I suppose.

In my extensive studying, I've come across some goodies. Feast, but at your own risk, this game is both thoroughly addicting and time consuming.

The Impossible Quiz

finale, last.fm

I'm fully aware that about every two to three posts, I express how busy I am, followed by complaining, then probably a little crying, and a post. Today is not much different, and I'm not going to mess with a recipe for perfection. It's finals week here in beautiful Madison, WI, and in a week I promised myself intensive studying and plenty of sleep. I've filled my quota for frisbee, beer, time on the terrace, going to car shows, and time on the internet, so all I've got left is studying. I've been studying solid for a week, and I think the most valuable thing I've learned is best way to fit a live Bulls mini-feed, music program, and Microsoft Word is to set the layout to normal instead of page on Word and put other programs on the right side of the screen. Decidedly.

In other news, I've been using a music program by the name of Last.fm for the past few weeks. The idea is that you download the program, and whenever you play music it takes note of every song you listen to and records it to your profile. Then, based on what you listen to, the program puts recommendations based on your taste, and you can play it for free as a radio feed. Oh, that's not all. If you are looking for more music like a specific artist, you can listen to a 'radio station' of similiar artists. You can search any music by any word a user has tagged a song with. It's basically a way better version of the 'other listeners also liked' list. The shit is tight, and I feel a duty to share with loved ones.

In my book of sonnets Of Madison and Beauty, I explore into the balanced beauty of a bustling city at one with the warm sun and the peaceful lakes, but let it suffice to say it's the balls y'all. The terrace outside the union has got to be one of the best places in the country to relax on a lazy sunny afternoon. If you've never been, just take my word for it, because if we fight over it the terrorists win.

Fuck finals. Seriously.

alberto gonzales

Alberto Gonzales is a dick. I don't consider myself in any way more qualified to comment on political morality than Sigourney Weaver or Dee Snyder, but if you haven't been keeping up with the story here's how it goes. Alberto Gonzales was appointed U.S. Attorney General by George W. Bush in February of 2005 after he served as Bush's Secretary of State during his administration in Texas. He serves as the head of the Justice Department and is well known for having NEVER reviewed a case in which new evidence has been presented (new shit has come to light) after a death sentence is applied. He's got a short list of accomplishments, namely:

1.) Stating on record that there is no express grant of Habeus Corpus in the U.S. Constitution. (The right to a trial to prevent wrongful imprisonment)

2.) Allowing the FBI to send "national security letters" instead of judicially approved subpoenas to get access to 20,000 Americans private records including phone tapping and e-mails.

3.) Firing 8 U.S. Attorneys who were either investigating Republican officials or were not prosecuting enough Democrats who could be replaced with "loyal Bushies" ( <- that's a real quote, I shit you not)

Basically this guy is the biggest D-Bag to hold public office since Jack Nicholson in Mars Attacks. Most of Congress has called for him to step down during his Senate hearing on his involvement in the firing of U.S. Attorneys, which is going on now. Feel free to write your Congressman/woman, bitches.

IE and Barcelona

It's weeks since my last post and spring break has come and gone. The trip was a big success, as I got back to the US monday at midnight with all ten fingers and three testicles. I flew Air India through London to Shannon which I was obviously skeptical about(not as much about the flight being related to India as it not even being on the terminal map at O'Hare). I feel it a civic duty to inform the general public that Air India offers free alcohol the entire flight. I was cheated since I didn't realize until the last drink round that the booze was free and I could have earned back about 3/4 of the original flight price over the course of the seven and half hours. Only little orphan Annie knows the pain I felt. I got into Galway late that night, but the next day went with Katie and Kerry Donovan to the Cliffs of Moher, just another stunning beauty of the homeland.

Spain was flooring. Barcelona was one of the best cities I've seen. It feels very old but at the same time livable. We spent our nights out on Las Ramblas, a walking street with tons of bars and stores lining each street you passed. Coming from Ireland, the beer in Spain was a complete 180. Guiness to Estrella feels like when a child finally leaves diapers only to use Pull-Ups. To be honest, I don't think I've even let the trip sink in enough to discuss it in detail, but it's sufficient to say I was very pleased.

****************

Knowledge Nuggets:

1.) The Irish make a mean cookie/biscuit with amazing prune-like abilities, aptly called Digestives.

2.) If Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude teaches us anything, it's that fat people on airplanes should have to buy two seats.

3.) If you want to blend in with the locals around bar time, start with a piercing. Or six. If you're a girl, snort a few lines and cut your bangs with a razor blade on an angle. If your a guy, bring 1 bottle of hair gel for each 3 days you'll be there, and don't forget your Yankees gear!

**************

In unrelated ranting, check these tunes out. I've been trying the "Other Listeners Also Bought" on iTunes, which is actually kind of nice. I am a tool.

Ruby - Kaiser Chiefs, for the "I watch European football on T.V. all the time...well, the Champions League..." kid.

Club Foot - Kasabian, for the Madden playing, culture seeking meathead.

This is War - Ben Kweller, for the Sha-Sha era Kweller lovers craving nostalgia.

Phantas(magoria) - Locke, for the magical realist inside, or unbridled amounts of phaser.

an image to ponder

3 A.M. Monday Night

No sleep; I'll relax now
Cheerios and some Springer
naked in our den

Word homey.

library, break, snake, video

Right now I'm sitting in the library enjoying a nice cup of Joseph and the ambiance of students who know how fucked they are for exams this week before spring break. I had the shittiest Italian class today. First, we have an exam tomorrow, yet somehow we had a quiz today? Of course I'm not prepared Renee Ann, I wasn't even there yesterday much less did I do the writing assignment you gave us one day for the night before a quiz and two days before an exam. Fuck you. And also, for the exam tomorrow, I want the anal probe with the abnormal bulges, not the one with the spikes, thanks. And, to boot, one of the many good looking girls in my class cut her beautiful hair which I liked to ogle. Great. Seriously, the girl had the hair of mid 80's Farrah Fawcett in her prime, and it's just not the same.

On the plus side though, I am getting excited for spring break. I've got some big plans, I get to visit my little big sister whose studying abroad in Galway, Ireland right now. I start by flying out of Chicago O'Hare Friday night, via Air India (bangerang), into London where I have a 9 hour layover. Luckily, an old friend of mine from the Yacht Club, Kerry Donovan, is studying in London now, so I have someone to hang out with while I'm there. Saturday night I fly out to Shannon, IE to meet Katie. We'll spend the weekend in Galway and then head to Dublin for a flight to Barcelona. The next week will be spent riding the hot Eurorail from Barca to Sevilla, Lisbon, and Madrid, getting a feel for the Spanish and Portuguese culture. And drinking, too. It really is a very busy trip, but Katie and I enjoy a good adventure.

In other news, Philip Seymour Hoffman has fallen ill. After Zach and I noticed a few weeks ago that his belly didn't shed right, I eventually called the Veterinary Teaching Hospital at UW for an appointment last Friday. He does indeed have dermatitis, a condition that basically came from bacteria in his substrate (the fake bark shit I put on the bottom of the cage) because it was too moist. The vet knocked him out and removed the bad scabby scales, and now twice daily Zach and I put a topical medicine on his belly. He also needs a shot of antibiotics every three days, which I have to give him. He will be ok though, and it was a lesson in using the right equipment in his cage. A lesson which cost more than the snake and his cage combined. Sweeeeeet.

I've been spending a lot of time on YouTube watching time-lapse videos, where people take pictures of themselves every day of the year and then put it in fast forward to music. They are pretty cool and remind me of those sweet time-lapse videos from junior high science with flowers blooming and wilting. Yes, I have kissed a girl before, and no, I'm not counting my mother.

umphrey's, girl talk, and man man

Almost by accident, I went to two concerts this weekend. On Thursday, I went to the Umphrey's McGee show at The Orpheum. I bought the ticket months ago with a friend who is a much bigger fan, but I'd liked what I heard and enjoy going to concerts, so it was a no brainer. And, as expected, the show featured just as much the band as one of the native tribes of Madison, hippies. I've only been to one other show at the Orpheum, which was Yonder Mountain String Band in the fall, but I knew what to expect. I like jam bands and I am a big fan of hippies, but when the two meet in the Orpheum the whole is not equal to the sum of its parts, and I mean that in a less-than-impressive way. The concert turned out to be awesome (more rock than they normally do I guess?) even though people looked like they were about to pass out everywhere. For a band that has been touted as the next Phish, they lived up to the hype.

Saturday was a very long day. A friend of mine had his brothers in town so a couple of my teammates and I went to Reno 911:Miami on Saturday morning. The movie was perfect considering a.) the shape we got ourselves into after a long Friday night, b.) the movie cost $2.50. We played some baseketball and frisbee, ate some Jade Garden, then had a few beers before a free concert at Union South featuring Girl Talk and Man Man. I'd listened to some of Girl Talk's stuff, but was by no way familiar with what the show would be like. Man Man was like carnie music on percussion crack, but had a few moments of brilliance. Girl Talk was absolutely tight. Girl Talk is a guy named Gregg who mashes up everything from Romeo to Elton John to L.C.D. Sound System into some really sick tracks.

Since he only uses a laptop to set up the music, the entire stage is fair game as a dance floor. Not just the stage either, but literally everyone there was dancing with no remorse. Probably one of the best concert experiences overall, even though it only roughly qualifies as a concert rather than a dance party. As icing on the cake, turns out Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are coming to UW in late April! Chew on that, bitches.

In all the weekend was very pleasing, especially leading up to spring break. The best part is, I absolutely do not have crabs, no matter what anyone says.

if you want a million dollars

So this week has been about as busy as any week gets for me, school-wise, or, "an academic buttfuck," as Newton would refer to it. Tuesday I had a 5-page paper due and an Italian exam. I had a journalism exam this morning (wednesday), and I have a geology exam on Friday. I've taken to staying in the library for hours on end, often leaving with a severe headache and a taste for blood. On monday, I came up with an idea that, at the time, seemed to reveal my life path to me. I'll explain all here, but I ask that if you are at all concerned about tearing the fabric of the space time continuum, do not read on. Otherwise, for a life of wealth and happiness and super model girlfriends, follow these easy steps:

1.) Accept the fact that at some point in human history, scientists will discover a way to manipulate time.

(Is this so hard to believe? Barring our extinction by nuclear holocaust, global warming, or AIDS it's fair to say humans could easily have many million more years ahead.)

2.) Promise yourself that if time travel becomes possible during your life, you will travel back to tell yourself the unrevealed truths of the universe. Super Bowl winners, NBA scores, MLB scores... Basically the Sports Almanac from Back to the Future.

3.) If time travel doesn't happen in your lifetime, bind yourself by blood to the fate of time travel, establishing that your descendants must break into science labs and do whatever necessary to secure a trip back to the past.

There you go, a fucking million dollars. You're welcome.

right hand, right eye

In truth, I believe that most accidents are avoidable. For instance, sure it might be an accident if you rear-end a car at a busy traffic light, but if you had really been paying attention you probably could have avoided it. Or if you are jumping on the trampoline with an a popsicle in your mouth, don't cry to me with your "fatal trachea wound," for I will not listen to your deafened cries. That said, I also acknowledge the difference between an accident, and sheer fate. To that end, I've come to believe that my right hand is going to murder my right eye. It has already taken a few stabs at it, quite literally. A couple weeks ago in the dining hall, I was walking past the cages where the mildly retarded eat, when I reached to scratch my forehead, which was suffering from an itch. I quickly learned however, that my right hand was brandishing a fork, and I jabbed the right eye a bit off center, only to find my dreamy deep eye sockets had saved yet another life.

To be honest, I don't much care for my right hand anyways. Oh yeah, that's right. Mainly, fuck things built for right hands, such as; scissors, desks, the sign of the cross, and the metric system. Everyone knows the old adage(< that word is definitely not used properly) of the nuns who would bitchslap(< used correctly) students with rulers for using their left hands. Today, I'd like to propose that the Esteemed Left-Handed People of Catholic School Systems or ELHPSS to those who are familiar, receive reparations for years of wrong-doing. Every member of the Catholic church knows the people who have been wronged by this egregious behavior have been deeply hurt.

To anyone who would like to learn more about joining the millions who demand change now, please e-mail me now at napleton@wisc.edu

back in black

Ahhh yes, as second semester is in full swing and I am now thoroughly convinced my mom has stopped reading the site, it's time for an update. It's been a few months since my last post, and thus futile to attempt to recap on all the goings-on since. Let's say it included but is not limited to Hawaii, the Super Bowl, Marquette, a mohawk, Christmas, a nickel in Chino, gout, two exorcisms, and an unsightly cold sore (I bumped my lip on a biscuit!). Anyways what is passed is passed. Now back to inevitably blogging again, it's as the Ten Commandments say, "Be true to thyself, and to thine own self be true."

I recently developed a new plan to create the ultimate address book. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why, but I'll also tell you to stop asking so many questions. I'm in charge here. I was recently told by several reliable sources that I am awful at keeping in touch with people. To be fair, this is true, I'm bad at remembering to call people back even minutes after they call. Also, I just set up my mac Mail application, and it would be nice to just have a real collection of peoples addresses, e-mails, and phone numbers. Plus, if anyone else needed to find someones e-mail or something and couldn't reach them, they'd know I had it. Anyways, if you think you are a relatively close friend of mine, or atleast a friendly diseased hooker, you can e-mail me at napleton@wisc.edu. Alright, that's definitely enough housekeeping shit.

Anyways, I'm at the library now procrastinating again, so I'm going to get back to it. I'm back to posting though, so remember to remember that you are not checking on it with any regularity. Thanks.

busy

I am really quite busy this week. I got back from Grand Valley State University, the pit stain of Michigan's college system, on sunday afternoon. It turns out the Mapquest directions don't account for leaving at 2 in the afternoon, and arriving northwest of Chicago at exactly 5 o'clock. Basically, it took 9 hours to get to Grand Rapids. Sweeeeet. The only thing that could cure a butt that sore was several Natty Ices and some Conan. The tournament went well considering we had no goalie (he got mono), we lost by 1 to Illinois, beat Michigan B, lost to Grand Valley A, beat Grand Valley B. It's been a while since I've played in a real game, especially since I couldn't play most of this summer because of my jaw surgery. The ride home wasn't that bad though, and six hours seemed like much less than nine.

This week is like a bear, though. A bear that was woken early from hibernation, then Danza slapped by Terrell Owens. As far as school goes, I have two exams this week and one on monday of next week. Besides, my parents are coming, possibly with my brother, Fiedler and Shelly, and theres a football game this weekend. It should be an awesome weekend though, I plan on being retarded by precisely 10 P.M. Friday night and, hopefully, under the influence until about 1 P.M. Sunday when I wake up.

*******************

I wrote that seven days prior to actually posting it, and it's funny to look at now. My brother did come, and it was really fun. We watched the game with Fiedler and his sister, which was fun, and then I got to show him Madison a little bit. What is a student union for by the way? When I was showing Matthew all I coud come up with was "This is a place where you can eat, or like sit... or something. People have meetings here..." And then I realized I don't really know what it even exists for. That got me thinking though, and I ended up going to see the library for the first time since I've been here. Creepy. The upstairs sections where the keep the books looks like the opening scene from Ghostbusters, sans card catalogs dripping with psychic goo. Plus they also have these cages where you can sit and do homework in subatomic temperatures.

This weekend the polo team has a tournament at Northwestern. The games should be fun and a little easier than the other week, so that's good. Plus, my sister katie is running a marathon this weekend. That's not a joke, weird. I've always secretly(not secretly) considered myself the most athletic if not top two, and I could never run a marathon. Normally my reaction would be something along the lines of, "So what, if I trained enough I could do that too." This time though, I really couldn't. Seriously, fuck that. I hate running. It's right up there on the list.

1.) Guys with red hair
2.) Sticky hands
3.) Running
4.) Oral and maxilliofacial surgery

Whatever, though. If Katie starts getting fresh will have a height contest. Or a knowledge of Lord of the Rings or Star Wars contest. If neither of those work, we'll settle it by getting the same job and then seeing who gets paid more. Beyond that though, she might have me.

On Saturday I ended up at the Pi Lambda Phi house to "pregame" (we never left so we straight up gamed there), and I noticed a few things. One, if your bathroom has more fruit flies than your kitchen, it's time to clean. Likewise, if the holes in the wall develop their own scents, it's time to clean. I mean, fuck. Also, I don't care what part of Wisconsin you are from, don't argue with me about the Bears "sucking". Where are the Packers? After rounds of repeating "Chicago teams choke!" your knockout punch is "when is the last time the Bears won a Super Bowl?" First off, yes, Chicago baseball has been recognized as choke artists in the past, and while the Cubs maintain that status, the White Sox won the fucking World Series last year. I'll tell you another thing too, kid with a choker and a clearly dishwashed baseball hat, the last time the Bears won the Super Bowl was 1985, and the last time the Packers won was 1993. Fourteen years ago, and you are trying to say that is much better than the Bears? On the plus side, his frat brothers pulled me aside to ask me not to beat the kid up. That was sweet.

Today feels like "Come On! Feel The Ilinoise!" by Sufjan Stevens is my anthem.

polo, online poker, tapping a keg

Water polo in Wisconsin is different from water polo in Chicago. On the plus side I don't have to practice nearly as much, I might actually get some decent play time, and the team has an amazing knack for partying. On the other side, we are going to lose games, like, a lot. I don't know how I'm going to react because last year I was spoon fed victories by my teammates. The guys on the team are really cool though, so I'm still excited to go to Grand Valley State this weekend. I predict a "You may have fucked us up in the water today, but we are going to get even more fucked up tonight!" attitude, which will be entertaining for everyone.

In general, life has been pretty sweet the past few weeks. I haven't had any serious injuries, I've been meeting a lot of good people, and I've even been eating healthier and working out regularly, which are all signs that something fucking stupid was going to happen to me.

Really, I'm not that stingy of a guy. I'm willing to spot friends for meals, pay for girls to drink, tip pizza guys well, etc. The college life, though, is expensive. Things like food, alcohol, foot massages, posters of girls making out, collector's edition Chewbacca costumes; it really adds up. My first thought was, then, "Danny you bastard, you should get a job, work 8-12 hours a week and keep yourself busy while learning valuable life lessons." By the time that sentiment reached my mouth it came out as "Hey guys, I'm going to play online poker and earn like a fucking thousand dollars a week off stupid bitches!" I have no doubt that there are lots of people making money at places like Party Poker and Poker Tree, but they are not stingy bastard college kids. Turns out I play poker like Shylock during the Great Depression. (and yes I feel fine insulting Shylock's character, not because he was a Jew but because he was such a douchebag to his daughter.) (and I also know "Merchant of Venice" didn't take place during the Great Depression, what do you think I am a fucking moron?) (asshole.)
So I lost money because apparently you have to spend money to make money. Or something like that, I wouldn't know, I'm the one who lost lots of money on online poker. Go ahead, judge me.

If I took a look at the story arch of each night out since I've been in Madison, I'd say the most reoccuring complaint each night is *learn to tap a keg*. Seriously, you spent a lot of money on that keg. It looks really cool in your hallway, and you can get a lot of sweet photo ops with all the empty kegs in your house/apartment at the end of the night, but for God's sake savor the flavor. I'm proposing a school organized demonstration, (possibly mandatory?) like job training. Sort of like how some English classes or Comm Arts class require taking an "Understanding the Library" demonstration, there should be a "Don't Fuck All Your Friends and Possible F Buddies Because You Rush the Most Important Moment of the Night" demonstration. I may submit that in writing to the Student Council, see what kind of feedback I get.

Also, completely unrelated to anything, but is it sanitary to be washing out my bowls and forks and spoons with the soap in the bathrooms? I might have to invest in some Dawn, but again, Shylock.

the man in the orange sweatsuit who plays the flute

Every day, between my 12:05 and 2:20 classes, I take the long walk from the southeast dorms to the peak of Bascom Hill. On the way back to the dorms, besides the fruit stand and imported food vendors, the men handing out bibles and the socialists, the library and the University Book Store, I see the man in the orange sweatsuit who plays the flute.

Who is this mysterious white-bearded man with the tiny lizard companion(also in an orange sweatsuit), playing the Star Wars Suite, Hey Jude, and various mid-sixties Motown hits? He is such a staple in my day, it's like a ritual seeing how far away I can hear him. Truth be told, the kid can play. The weirdest part of the whole situation is the man's apparent success. To his credit, he's wearing a bright pair of orange Crocs, has real suitcases for his clothes rather than just University Book Store bags, and his white beard is neatly braided. I've decided I consider him more of an occupational hippie rather than the standard Madison vagrant.

For that matter, there's a wide variety of homeless here at Madison. Every profession from "I sell stolen backpacks" to "I can make a rythmic can of change sound better than Keith Moon" can be seen on State Street. Then you have your grunge hippies who look so unkempt you can't tell if they work at the feminist book/pipe store or just smoke all their weed outside them. In any case, I still say that shoeless lesbian hippies are the spice of life, but I guess I'm just old-fashioned that way.

i just blogged my pants

The funny thing about a blog, you see, is that the site is based on the principal that people want to read to what you have to say. I don't really have anything to say. Avoiding Italian homework at 2 a.m. is a good enough reason for me, however, to start a website, so that, friends, is what I am doing.

First and foremost, though, who chose the word blog? Seriously, what a stupid fucking word. That has probably been my biggest challenge in my new blogging career. Coming to terms with the stupid ass word blog. Why not "e-log" or "o-log" or "masturbation machine diary thing"? I'm proposing a swift and orderly change, or coup d'etat as the French call it.

So anyways, it's fair to assume that at this point if you are reading this you already know me, but let me give you an idea of who(how awesome) I think(know) I am. I'm 6'3, 170 lbs. of unadultered hot. Too hot for tv, in fact. Just hot enough for a blog, though. I'm pretty awkward to speak with because I have a tendency to offend your ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, odor, or any combination thereof the first time I meet you. After that, though, I'll have you eating out of the palm of my unwashed hand with witty catchphrases and a "Why is he wiping his bare ass on the carpet? Genius!" feeling. You know you like the sound of that.

Honestly, I don't know what I'll write about. It's like an adventure without the excitement! As the retarded hyena from Disney's The Lion King says, be prepared...