We got ourselves another Haiku Tunnel data entry temp job today. We are happy. We love Haiku Tunnel Data Entry temp jobs. I got me my new CD's and my new CD walkman (by the way, if anyone happens to be riding Greyhound between DC and Harrisburg and runs into a piece of crap CD walkman that still has the "Nirvana Live" disc in it, can you please send it back to me? Much thanks) and I'm raring to go. The job is in an accounting department in a bank. It's dreadfully dull, especially as it's apparent by the almost abandoned office space that the bank has seen better days. Just like the other bank that I worked at, this bank also has a rule against dispensing free asprin. After thinking how weird that is, I realized that it's probably just a precautionary measure against the bank's employees from trying to kill themselves from the sheer boredom that their lives have become.

My supervisor, who is a bit on the anal retentive uptight side, albeit a nice guy, wants to take me to lunch tomorrow. Kind of a welcome aboard for the six days I'm working there. While it's really nice of him to do that and I really appreciate the effort in trying to make me feel like I'm not just a temp working there for six days, I really don't want to go out to lunch with him. That's the point of these temp jobs- I go in, I put on the headphones all day, I go out.

Because I'm looking for work at the same time, I'm having to leave a lot to use a payphone (yes, I have no cell phone. I know). The closest pay phone I can find is at a five star hotel half a block away from my office. I spent so much time there coming and going, hanging out by the phone, that I think the people who work there think I'm staying there. They've started saying hi to me and the doorman's holding the door when I come in. Maybe I should start taking all the free food they have lying out for their Continental Breakfast?

I had an interview today for an Admin. Assistant position. The thing is that it's not your basic, run of the mill Admin position but a little bit more high-falutin. More important people, more important work, more important money. It's actually a pretty good job with virtually no chance of getting laid off (a very, very good thing) but I just wish it had a better title. Administrative Assistant just doesn't sound that great of a position. Not going to be very impressive to the ladies, especially coming out of a 36 year old mouth.

What they need to do to make the job better is to change the title. Make it sound much more interesting. Something like Administrative Manager or Administrative Coordinator (putting coordinator in the title always makes things sound more impressive). Or maybe even Senior Adminstrative Assistant. Now that sounds good.

Kind of.

Things I saw downtown today:

-Executive type in a suit going to work somewhere in the Financial District. On a skateboard. Barefoot.

-You know those aluminum lunch trucks that go to various work places and sell crappy-ass pre-made sandwiches and an assortment of tasty beverages? There was one parked downtown with a big huge sign saying "Sushi To Go." Yep, an aluminum lunch truck that goes to various work places and sells crappy-ass pre-made sushi rolls.

-BART pulls into the station and the announcement comes that it's going to be the last stop as the train is going to go out of service. Everyone piles out of the train except for one girl, hooked up to her walkman and so completely rocking out that she's totally oblivious to the fact that everyone else on the train has got up in left. For about five minutes she sat there, the only person on the train, just bopping along to her music, not noticing that at this point she was holding everything up. Finally, after some guy basically pounded on the window and yelled at her for a few minutes, she got up and left.

A little summertime poem for y'all.

Cute girl lies next to me at park.
Cute girl strips down to bikini
Cute girl HOT
Cute girl has pierced belly button, and tattoo on ankle and back
Cute girl is such a cliché
Yawn……

I'm not exactly sure of what I think about VH-1's "I Love the 90's." It is way too early for a 90's retrospective. As someone said over the weekend, we're still wearing clothes we bought then. Hell, we're still listening to music from then, and not in an ironic fashion either (well, okay, maybe Chumbawamba, but Alice in Chains?). On the other hand, the ad for "I Love the 90's" spoofing on Beverly Hills 90210- brilliant (and by the way, when did Beverly Hills 90210 suddenly become a cultural touchstone? I write about it because I love goofing on it, but now everyone is. ESPN even has a poll in which you get to pick the biggest TV show of the past 25 years and Beverly Hills 90210 was on the list). And yes, I already have the date written into my calendar for when it'll air. Of course I'll watch it. And watch it again. Then again after that.

Because we love the "I Love's......"

Man, I was so excited about the opening of "Fahrenheit 9/11." Friends and I camped out Wednesday night to make sure we got the best seats in the house and brought all of our action figures and dressed in costume (I was Donald Rumsfield!)

Uh no, that didn't happen.

Instead a friend and I went to a 12 o'clock showing Sunday afternoon in Daly City, thinking that a 12 o'clock showing in a place that wasn't the Big City wouldn't get sold out. We got there at 11 and it was sold out. So we purchased tickets for the 2:30 show, killed about three hours at a mall (I know, sooo High School) and got back to the theater around 1 where we sat in line with hundreds of other people for seats to the show. The show we saw was sold out, as was every other show that day. Pretty fricking crazy. It was the same kind of movie craziness that'll probably come next week when Spiderman comes out except all for a movie whose main character is George W. Bush.

And how was it?

Let's just say straight out that I wasn't as excited about this movie as a lot of people were. I know how bad Smirkboy and the Smirkettes are. I know what they're doing to this country and I know how badly we've bungled the "War on Terror." I don't really need it broadcast to me in a movie. Lately I've been tuning out a lot of the strongly partisan, lefty kind of news outlets. I used to love Salon, for instance, when it wasn't so blatantly partisan but now it seems like every day every story is a variation along the theme of "George Bush Sucks." Besides the fact I know it, it's kind of upsetting to read it. I know it. Most of my friends know it. But we're not the ones who need to know it. I've actually been reading a lot more of the moderate to slightly conservative sites out there, like the "we'll say the opposite of what everyone else is saying because we look much smarter that way" New Republic and Andrew "I'm not screwed up even though I'm gay and both devoutly Catholic and a Republican" Sullivan. Hell, I've even been watching mostly Fox News lately just because it makes me think. Salon doesn't make me think- I know it already. Fox does because every couple of seconds I'm forced to go "hey, wait a minute…."

Why I wasn't so psyched on the movie was because it would be too much preaching at the choir and because I thought Moore would go a little too much over the top. He has a habit of doing that and as your typical mushy, let's have a civilized debate liberal, I like my commentators more on the Charlie Rose/NPR side of things. Except John Stewart, of course, but he doesn't count because he's a "fake" newsmen.

The movie does a lot of preaching and Moore does go over the top a bit (he briefly mentions Bush's still unexplained disappearance from the National Guard and plays a riff of Eric Clapton's "Cocaine."). The movie aims too high, trying to hit upon almost every left complaint about the administration and as Moore is often capable of doing, veers a little too much into Oliver Stone territory. But still, it's pretty good. Even powerful at times. By the end of it you're firmly convinced of his central message, that the poor kids fighting in Iraq are doing the best they can in a place they shouldn't have been sent by people who can't possibly be. You leave the movie feeling like it's time to go man the ramparts and fight the power that be. Whether others feel the same way is the million dollar question. If others do, especially in states that aren't New York and California, Karl Rove should be really nervous.

I may not agree with everything Moore says and I'm pretty sure he's probably a major league ass-hole in real life, but thank God he's out there. Somebody's gotta give 'em hell.

Go man, go.

Ahhh, Silicon Valley. From the Merc

HUNDREDS PROTEST IN PALO ALTO AGAINST PLAN THAT COULD REDUCE POPULAR TECH PERK

More than 800 high-tech workers crowded onto the Palo Alto City Hall Plaza on Thursday to protest a proposal by the Financial Accounting Standards Board to make companies deduct employee stock options as an expense.

While FASB was meeting less than a mile away, the protesters were chanting and dining on free pizza and cold drinks. Most of them had permission slips from the boss to spend a few hours in the sunshine to protect Silicon Valley's signature currency.

Everybody behaved and remained on-message, with the spontaneity of an event staged by corporate PR professionals. Workers marched with signs, wearing yellow T-shirts that read ``I am the face of employee stock options'' and whipping out their Palm handhelds when necessary. At times, the rally felt more like a corporate all-hands-meeting than a down-with-the-government protest.

I wasn't there to attend, but the question is did they chant "A Company/Divided/Will never be united?" What about "What do We Want? Stock Options? When do Want them? Now!!!!" Did they have those big, huge paper mache puppets? And is it really a protest march if nobody mentions Mumia?

I guess the big thing with spam mail now (especially porn ones) is to throw some gobbley-gook nonsense as a way to pass through the anti-spam filters. They put the text in with the actual photo ad (if it gets through) and viola- instant spam-mail.

Here's the latest one I got:

"A few maestros, and toothache about girl) to arrive at a state of cyprus mulchWhen reactor from is flabby, defined by sheriff bur movie theater beyond fundraiser.And pour freezing cold water on the dark side of her haunch.
uniroyal coachmen provincial taxpayer cluster"

I got this in response to a resume I sent in:

"Thank you for your reply to our posting. Your qualifications do match the position as well as some other candidates. Good luck in your job search."

Now, I'm pretty sure that's a thanks-but-no-thanks, but huh? I can't really tell what the hell's going on here because there's no "pivot" there, nothing that's supposed to clue me in to what exactly going in (as in "the Senator did indeed serve his country with honors but that still means he should respond to accusations that he tripped acid and had a threesome with Jane Fonda and Charles Manson").

Even better, the response came from some phony Yahoo account so I can't even tell what posting it was in response to. It's like my resume made it to some second grader who was put in charge of responding to resumes.

Actually, I'm pretty sure it's a posting for some place I interviewed with several months, a place that I guess hasn't quite found anyone yet (ha!). I would be a little upset that they're screwing around with me, but as it's the interview in which I showed up sick as a dog and was a little bit more concerned with not throwing up during the interview than how I responded to questions in my interview, I'll give them a little slack here. Still, ha.

Here's another note to all those HR types who read this here bloggie- do not say something along the lines of "we'd definately like to bring you in again next week" unless you really mean it. I know- fool me once, shame on you, fool me over and over again, shame on me- but still. Some of us out there still take people on their word. Or at least face value. This is especially true if you also, at the same time, ask for references. If looking for a job is like dating, then asking for refences and saying "we'd definately like to bring you in again" is the equivelant of getting to 2nd or 3rd base on the first date, then getting the "I'm not in a good place right now" speech.

Oh, and one more thing. Trying to gain sympathy for all the interviewing you have to do? In the mighty words of Justin Timberlake, Cry Me a River.

Best movie so far of the summer? Metallica's "Some Kind of Monster". There's something inherently funny about watching guys in a heavy metal band spouting off therapy speak and bemoaning the fact their million dollar paintings are being sold. The craziest part of the movie? You wind up really liking the guys in the band. Even Lars.

Go figure.

As daring feats of cell phone talking always fascinates me, I got a pretty good one. Yesterday I was waiting for the 22 Fillmore and the woman I couldn't help notice that the woman I was waiting with did one of my favorite kind of cell phone stunts. She spent the entire wait on the phone, got onto the bus, paid for hr ticket, stood in the aisle, and then got a seat minutes later all entirely while talking on the cell phone. Which, actually, isn't that exciting because it's a fairly regular trick, but the key part is that an hour later when I was taking the 22 Fillmore back home, the very same woman was on the very same bus. Talking on the cell phone.

But that's nothing. Probably the most spectacular feat of cell phonery I saw was at the Baltimore airport. The girl got into line at the food stand (Roy Rogers, yum), waited in line, ordered, picked up her meal, walked over to the condiment stand, added her condiments, then sat down to eat while never getting off the phone. She even ate while talking the entire time.

Now that's darn impressive.

Speaking of the Baltimore airport, in one of those stories from Back East I hadn't gotten to yet, while I was getting dinged by security and taken to the side for the full strip-down wand treatment, I watched as some 70 year old in a wheelchair got wheeled by. They couldn't, I said to myself, but they did. They asked if she had a pacemaker, made her stand up and walk through the metal detector, then sat her down to give her the wand. They then made her stand up, go into the full Jesus Christ pose, before finally letting her go. Again, to a 70 year old lady. With white hair. Being carried around in a wheelchair.

Now you might be thinking that's crazy- how many terrorists are 70 year old women? But I say that would be wrong. What better terrorist would there be? It's the last person we'd expect to be a terrorist, which is why it would be such a diabolical plot. Whose to say her name wasn't really Rose McGillicudy but Jafar Mahmed McGillicudy. And whose to say that while most people would suspect her of being a 70 year old woman with grey hair and a wheelchair, it's not really the most amazing costume you've ever seen. We're talking full mask and wig.

Thank God for the Baltimore Airport Security.

Here is my favorite story in the whole wide world...

Ex-wife of GOP Senate candidate alleged sex club forays

"The ex-wife of Jack Ryan, the Republican candidate for the U.S. Senate in Illinois, alleged in court papers filed in 2000 that he took her to sex clubs and asked her to engage in sexual activity in front of other patrons."

Yep, it's a Republican in a sex scandal. So much for family values.

See what happens when you let gay people marry?

Here's a little story from back in the day, way back weeks ago in Carlisle PA

My mom has one of those super-sensitive, motion sensor alarms. The kind that can alert the local police when mice fart near the door. One morning, my mom was at the doctors and I was just putzing around the house, having just woken up and felt like doing some laps to wake up. So hear I am, in t-shirt and boxers walking around the apartment and as I get just a little too close to the back door, I hear the alarm start clicking. Voice came out and told me that in ten seconds, the alarm was going to go off.

I run up to the alarm, furiously hitting every possible button I could to get it to stop. Besides the fact it was going to be loud, I knew the alarm was hooked up to the police in some sort of way and that things could go from bad to worse really quickly. Couldn't stop the thing so within a few seconds, the alarm started wailing. And wailing. I continued to hit every possible button hoping to shut the damn thing down. I even tried yanking the thing from the wall (which works when the fire alarm goes off), but I couldn't.

A couple of minutes into it, with me still trying to stop the thing (I was a little on the worried side that the thing wouldn't stop until somebody turned it off, which meant it was going to be a long and loud morning), the phone rang. It was the alarm company checking up on what was going on. I tried to explain the situation to them, but I couldn't do much because I didn't know either the password (obviously) or even who the person was who was my mother's "In Emergency" person. So they said they'll take care of it and not to worry about it. With the alarm still ringing, I just went into my mother's office, closed the door, and checked my e-mail.

A few minutes later, it finally stopped. But then, ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. It's one of Carlisle's finest, a copper. I go to answer the door, which unfortunately set the alarm off again, and got the grilling by the cop. I told him who I was, why I was there, why the alarm went off, blah…blah…blah. Couldn't tell whether he was just being cop-like and thus a bit of an asshole, but he didn't seem to be going for it. Guess a lot of robbers in Carlisle break into places wearing shorts, t-shirts, and no shoes and not having showered yet. Just as he's about to say he's going to "check things out" a message comes through telling him that someone was contacted and my story checked out. And with that, the alarm went off and the copper left.

Did the ole cashing in a big wade of change thing and got a whopping $60 today. Fella gotta eat, ya know.

Now while $60 in pennies, nickels, and dimes may seem like a lot, it's nothing like the last time I did something like that. My last haul, one that I did over four years ago, got me over $200. And man, if you want some fun, try schlepping over $200 in change from your apartment to Safeway on public transportation. I had so much change that there was a line of people behind me waiting for me to finish. It was actually kind of exciting. I'd be sitting there, putting bucketful after bucketful of change into the machine and after awhile, people started watching what I was doing, seeing just how much the total would be. Everyone who walked by would glance over to see what was going on. All I needed was red sirens going off and it would have been like Vegas.

Tomorrow I got a gig at a Trade Show at Moscone. The best part? I have to be there at 6.

I know, you're like so jealous.

To the guy sitting next to me at the 5:25 showing of "Dodgeball the Movie",

Okay, I can accept your cell phone ringing during the movie once. Mistakes happen. Yeah, I know cell phones have been around long enough that not turning off your cell phone during a movie has become socially unacceptable. Everyone pretty much remembers to do it. And, okay, you might have forgotten that your cell phone was on even after the five-minute long "Turn Your Cell Phone Off" Public Service Announcement that they show before the movie these days (they're usually pretty funny). As I said, mistakes happen and we're all human.

But twice?

Twice?

Oh, and one more thing- one of the reasons why people don't like cell phones being used during movies is because those new-fangled ones are all glowy and light things up. They're like these big huge fireflys. When you actually open the phone to check who called, then made a long mental note about the possible phone call, and maybe even possibly checked out some text messages, that can be a bit of distraction.

In other words, you, my dear friend, suck ass.

Here's a good, Absinthe-fueled drunken debate- If given the choice, would you rather (insert Dr. Evil like voice here) get ten-million dollars, tax-free of course, or have world peace?

And if you say world peace, you're lying.....

Editor's note- some would maintain that they would choose the ten million only because of the chimera-like quality of world peace. That peace is not part of man's nature and that world peace would only, inevitably, lead to conflict. Maybe people fighting over who is living the more righteous peace. Or somebody taking advantage of peace as a means for their own end. Then there's the arguement that they'd take the ten million only because it would allow them to use some of that money for world peace. Nice try. However, I'm pretty sure that we all, deep down, if offered, would just go on, take the money and run (hoo-hoo)

Cause it's all about the bling-blang.

As you might have noticed, occasionally I like to dip into the occasional movie reviewing foray. It's kind of fun to do, but I'm a little shy about doing it. While my writing kung-fu might be adequate for this here bloggy blog, my writing kung-fu is not nearly as strong as the film critic at the San Francisco Bay Guardian. How can I keep on writing my piddling little movie reviews after reading such eloquent, intellectual clap trap as this (from a review of Twentynine Palms, some French sex flick that just got released this week)?


"Evidence that Dumont has a knack for hypnotizing haters can be found in any review that rages against Twentynine Palms's double-whammy climax, and there are plenty to choose from, most penned in (perhaps penned within?) red, white, and blue. This is a film that begs for – or demands – a reception-theory survey. A patriotic dedication to Hollywood values dictates most reviews, though one interesting exception – a regret-tinged dismissal by Dumont's chief U.S.-based champion, New York Press critic Armond White – instead reflects a consistent dislike for an antihumanist genre (horror). "

I am so not worthy of being a film-critic

If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you’re going to San Francisco
You’re gonna meet some gentle people there
For those who come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
In the streets of San Francisco
Gentle people with flowers in their hair
All across the nation,
such a strange vibration
People in motion
There’s a whole generation,
with a new explanation
People in motion, people in motion
For those who come to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair


If you come to San Francisco


Summertime will be a love-in there


If you come to San Francisco


Summertime will be a love-in there

Due to family considerations, I'm off to see "Harry Potter" for the second time. And yes, the third is much, much better than the other two (Little Sis is making me watch the first one as I write this and, blimey, it's really not that good). The question upon watching the third Harry Potter movie is this- how long do you think it will be before Emma Watson, the girl who plays Hermoine, appears on the cover of Maxim with a headline like "Hermoine is All Grown Up" or "See What Harry Potter is Missing!"

What? It's not like I'm the only one whose been thinking these things....

Sign on Independant Bookstore at Dupont Circle, DC: In honor of Reagan Rites, we will be open on Friday.

You know, I couldn't help but think far, far in the future to when my guy gets buried. My guy being Bill, of course. Since we're all getting Ronnie shoved down our throats as maybe possibly the Greatest Human Being Ever, I couldn't but help think about when we get to shove Bill down everyone's throats (insert Monica joke here). Besides the fun of having to watch all the Republicans grin and bear it, the fun of it would be that no matter what happens vis a vis a memorial service, it would be totally appropiate to, say, go up to do beer bongs in the Capital Rotunda. The hotter the chicks the better. Because you just have to know that Bill would be looking down (or looking up), busty blondes on each arm, and giving you the big thumbs up.

Today I went to the National Mall. I saw the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial (I was kind of disappointed in that they never mentioned him helping < Kirk & Spock defeat Genghis Khan ), as well as all the war memorials (WWII, Vietnam, Korea). As I walked through all the memorials to the major 20th century wars, I wondered if there going to erect a memorial to every war fought by America during the 20th Century. It's only fair, after all. So what about a memorial for the Grenada War (the war to save partying medical students from the tyranny of comical Communist dictators), the Persian Gulf War (the war to save tyranical Arab religious fundamentalists dictators from tyranical Arab secular dictators) or the Cola Wars (the war to keep America from constantly having a choice between "the Real Thing" and "Pepsi Generation").

Then I saw the Great Ronnie Parade. Actually, I was about thirty yards from where the hearse pulled up, the casket was pulled out, and put on the caisson. It was pretty rocking. They had a DJ set up playing all those great 80's tunes (like Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Two Tribues" or the Ramones "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg") while the crowd hit beachballs around and danced. When the hearse came by, the "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" Guy said "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" as the entire crowd started chanting "Ron-nie! Ron-nie!". Then when his pall bearers got out of their limos to help remove the casket from the Hearst, the DJ blasted "Enter Sandman" and when the casket was actually lifted from the hearst, the crowd was rocked out to "Don't Fear the Reaper."

Actually, none of that happened. As you probably know because they probably played all the footage over and over again. It was actually kind of weird. Everyone was just kind of standing around waiting, talking to each other and trying to stay cool when a couple of cop cars went by. Then some more. Then some limo's and everyone began to realize that the whole thing was about to happen. Everyone kind of watched, applauding when Nancy stepped out, then applauded as the caisson went by. Luckily it never quite hit Princess Di level where people were openly sobbing and throwing flowers. The poor horse that was riderless with the backwards boots kept on freaking out and tried to walk the other direction from the capital building.

And the coolest part? I saw Merv Griffin!

It's hot and it's muggy in DC today. I do not like hot and I do not like humid. I keep on looking towards the hills (which there are none of) to see if the fog is about to roll in but there's no fog anywhere. I hate it when you go outside and you instantly feel like you need to take a shower. I hate it when you walk around for a bit and automatically feel like you should find a nice airconditioned place and never leave. And then there's the worst part of walking around in all this mugginess- chafing.

I said Owwwwwww....

Just spreading the word as much as I can (payback on the whole John Kerry story is a bitch), not to mention begging for hits, here's the blog news out in blog-land: William Bennet (my bud), noted uptight prude, scold, and out-of-control gambler, is also into bondage. Has a dominatrix too whose trying to get her story out.

I know. I'm shocked, shocked that an uptight Republican would be into a kinky fetish, especially one in which he gets punished a lot.

One thing about hanging out in Middle of Nowhere PA is that the only major restaurants here are the big chain restaurants. They got them all- Red Robin, Applebee's, Olive Garden, Outback Steakhouse. It's the place to be. Since I live in San Francisco, a city that has none of those restaurants within a ten mile radius of city limits (puh-lease, any true San Franciscan would never ever be caught dead going into one of those places) and since I never go to any of those places, all I want to do is eat there. Whenever my mother asks me where I want to eat, all I want to go to is Applebees. Unfortunately, Applebees is always too crowded. As is the Outback steak house, which is how we wound up at the Olive Garden tonight.

Not bad.

Did you know that every Olive Garden chef has attended a special Olive Garden culinary academy in Tuscany?

Right.

One more thing about being in Middle-of-Nowhere PA, all of the women that you see here usually fit into one of three categories- frumpy and dumpy, fat, or the big haired bimbo look. Occasionally, you'll even see some variation of the three (it's harder to tell which is worse, the frumpy looking fat one or the fat big haired bimbo- love 'em in skin tight clothes and tatooes). Because the great majority of women look like that, whenever you see a woman who doesn't look like that, who, in fact, is actually kind of attractive and cute in all the normal ways, it's such a relief. It's like when you listen to the local alternative radio and after hearing crap song after crap song, they play a brand new song that's really good. You're almost dumbfounded that somebody still writes songs like that and your faith is renewed in rock music.

When I see them, though, I want to go up to them and tell them to run. Get out of there. Split. Just leave now, I want to say, before you wind up sticking around and getting knocked up by some NASCAR loving mullethead. And leave now before you too become dumpy and frumpy, fat, or big-haired.

For God sakes, girls, save yourselves!

Today I went to Hershey Park with my mom. Hershey Park is, of course, the big huge factory/resort area/amusement park where Hershey chocolate is based. Picture Willy Wonka except without the oompa-loompahs, river full of chocolate, and things that could turn you into a giant blueberry, make you a TV picture or let you fly in the air due to soda bubbles . We went on this ride there, called "Chocolate Factory," which was this Disneyland-like ride in which you get into a car, get taken around on some track, and get the story of Hershey's complete with animetric cows going moo and a voice over the intercom telling you the story. They even had an "It's a Chocolate World" type ending!

Then we did the "Sweet, Sweet World" 3-D Experience which was a fifteen minute film, all in 3D showing you the joys of chocolate. The room rumbled, water splashed, and giant cartoon chocolate bars came flying out at you. And it was all introduced to you by the guy who played J Peterman on "Seinfeld."

It was awesome.

So far, I've seen most of the big summer movie releases- "Troy" (dumb), "The Day After Tomorrow" (dumberer), and "Harry Potter" (really good), but I have to say that so far, the best movie I've seen this summer season is "Mean Girls." Really, really good. Maybe the best High School movie since blessed "Heathers".

I do have to say, though, that one of the few things I took out of the movie is now I completely understand why everyone is so totally fascinated with Lindsey Lohan's breasts.

Blah-blah-blah “Greatest Generation” blah-blah blahbity-blah “D-Day” blah-blah-blah-blah. And more blah. Like so over it, don’t wanna hear it, don’t care. Yeah, I know those guys fought World War II. World War II was really noble- an actual war that we actually had to fight- but can we stop with the Baby Boomer kiss ass of their parents generation? The Boomers are so busy praising their elders that it makes you wonder whether they’re doing it because they mean it or because they’re doing it as a way of trying to make it up to them for being such shitty little brats before their parents all croak.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, that generation survived the Depression, then WWII, then the Cold War but is it because they were so great or just because of timing? You know, just because they got born into that period doesn’t necessarily mean that they were great. It’s not my generation’s fault that pre-9/11, the most traumatic thing that happened to us was when Fox decided to move “Melrose Place” to Monday nights, thus breaking up the Great “BH 90210”/ “Melrose Place” double-bill (and let’s see the Greatest Generation deal with that. A lot of friendships were broken over the decision over whether to hold the TV viewing party on Monday’s or Wednesdays). And if the “Greatest Generation” was the Greatest Generation, what does that make the rest of us? The “Meh Generation?” “The Merely Adequate Generation?” The "Suck Ass Generation"? So my generation didn’t get a chance to save the world from tyranny? Is that our fault? We created the internet. We turned irony into an art form. We created 'zines.

Where’s our props?

Saw my first cicada today while walking around my brother's hood. Kind of exciting, but not that exciting as it was mainly just sitting there on the pavement looking not too well. Word has it that the great plague of cicada's is almost over so it looks like I missed the Biblical stage. We'll see what happens next week when I go to Baltimore (for those keeping score, this journey back east will include stops in DC, Harrisburg, Philly, back to DC, and then Baltimore). According to my father, the cicada's were so loud and so prevelant that they couldn't hang out on the front porch because of the noise.

It is, however, a little hot and a little muggy. Truth of the matter is that while the winter's never bothered me that much (my theory was that you could always just put more layers on. Plus, you could always go sledding), the summers did. I really don't like heat & humidity. No siree. In fact, I'd have to say that one of the most enjoyable feelings there is to be had in life is that blast of cold air you get when first entering a place that's air conditioned. Luckily, it's not too hot or too muggy, more like on the tipping point of it being too hot and too muggy. Just not hot enough to be miserable, but not hot enough to merit much in the way of air conditioning.

So I'm standing in the shower thinking, riding the perfect caffiene buzz, and I find myself grooving to the song playing in my head. And I'm standing there grooving along to what I'm thinking is a pretty cool song until a voice pops into my head telling me to think for a second, you know, kind of like when you have a bad dream and all of a sudden a voice comes through the dream telling you to snap out of it because it's only a dream. Which is hot it hit me- the song I've been bopping along to the whole time is the theme from "The Greatest American Hero." And no, not the Costanza version, but the real one.

That's some damn good coffee.

Look at what's happened to me,
I can't believe it myself.
Suddenly I'm up on top of the world,
It should've been somebody else.

Believe it or not,
I'm walking on air.
I never thought I could feel so free eee eee.
Flying away on a wing and a prayer.
Who could it be?
Believe it or not it's just me.

Were in DC right now, basically at the start of the world's most expensive Giants game (got tix in a week and a half to see the Giants and the Orioles at Camden Yards and yes, we are psyched). Learned some new things on the flight over today.

Such as:

-If you want to avoid all the security lines at the airport, a bigger hassle than before due to the recent supposed terrorist threat, just get there a little late and make sure you're dinged by security. At least twice I got into some big huge line, thinking I was doomed to miss my flight, only to be shuttled off by airport security to be checked out. Turns out One Way tickets make you highly suspicious. I would also like to thank the Airport Security for checking up on the 5' 2" mid-40 year old, 80 pound Filipino women who was in line behind me. She definately had the makings of some ninja Al-Qeda terrorist.

-Your walkman headphones work just as well as those stupid-ass, cheap-ass, five dollar head phones they try and make you purchase in order to watch the in-flight movie.

-There is a novelization of "The Passion of Jesus Christ." For those who like the version in the New Testament, but don't think it's violent enough. And yes, it's pretty small.

-You can't leave your seat for the last half-an-hour of the flight into Washington International (or, as the Conservatives like to call it "Ronald Reagan International Airport.") Which means if you have to take a piss during the last portion of the flight, you're SOL. Once again, thank you John Ashcroft.