I Hate Stupid MNPass

So you build or dedicate one lane on a freeway for people willing to pay a little extra to drive on it when others won't, thereby speeding up your commute because there will be less traffic. How's about this: Why don't you make or keep that lane free, and let everybody fucking use it? That way, we could all get home a little faster!

This is a money grab were it should never be: On the roads all Minnesotans share. This is another way to divide us, and I thought this state was better than that.

I Don't Know If I Blogged About This Creep Before, But I Must Now

There's this professor who works on the same floor as I do. Always struck me as weird; the few times I pass by him he has this disinterested, slightly bemused look, like he knows something you don't and he wants to tease you with it. During the summer he wore jean shorts -- never a sign of a sane man. And the only time he's even acknowledged me was when I got off the elevator and started walking behind him. He looked behind me with this, "What the fuck?" look and said, "Hey." I said, "What's up?" in my passive-agressive defensive way.

Well, today I just took my usual potty break, except I didn't need to defecate. Just as I start washing my hands this creepy fucker comes in. Now, I think I've described some of this men's room before, so forgive me if I describe the urinals again. There are two of them, right inbetween the two bathroom stalls and the two sinks. I was washing my hands at the sink next to the urinal. Now, you'd think he'd go to the urinal further away from me and the sink. Turns out, he didn't. I didn't know he did that while I was washing my hands; however, just the thought that he was right next to me, violating all unspoken yet clear rules of men's bathroom etiquette, squicked me out.

I kept thinking things to do based on this asshole. Should I wash my hands faster? Would it seem like I was scared of him if I did? Three towels like I usually do or two? And can I use a towel to turn off the water, like health experts say you should do, especially now given the cold weather and the unexpected attack from H1N1 swine flu?

I just did my thing as usual, taking time to wash my hands thoroughly and getting three towels, all the while trying to act like he doesn't scare me. But this guy, he washes his fingers for, like, a second at the sink I didn't use -- the one next to me at the towel dispenser -- then reaches for the towels just as I was grabbing my customary third towel. Whoa, Invade Space Guy, wait your turn! He takes just one towel, wipes his hands for a millisecond, then cuts past me to leave.

Maybe I'm overreacting. As someone last month told me, If this angers me, what exactly is my trigger? Well, I need to think about it, but if I have to answer right now, it's just that this guy bugs the shit out of me.

And I'll have to see him again and again and again and again. ...

Great Column About Roman Polanski's Recent Arrest

I don't want to sound too much like a Republican, and there is such a thing as letting bygones be bygones, but I didn't mind director Roman Polanski getting arrested for child rape after fleeing the States and vowing never to come back.

But even better is this post defending the arrest and lambasting Polanski's defenders. Screenwriters make for great columnists because of their way with words, and Michael Seitzman made the case for his arrest better than I ever could.

One other thing: I usually find it hard to defend a crime if the victim of that crime no longer wants his or her attacker prosecuted. But in regards to Samantha Geimer, the 13-year-old who was drugged and was unable to defend herself from Polanski having her way with her, I feel differently. Seitzman makes an impassioned yet logical case that this rape goes beyond one particular girl. But I have to admit that I feel this way partly because of the lengths to which Geimer, who now is married and has kids, is trying to have the case dismissed in Los Angeles District Court. Read this article from January, please. I hope I'm wrong; maybe she really wants nothing to do with Polanski at all, and this is a way to be rid of him once and for all. But, and I'm speculating, that if I were her, I might not like it, but I'd let justice take its course. At the very least I would not take legal steps to get the case dismissed. And I certainly wouldn't go on Larry King Live to talk about it. If you don't want publicity, don't go out in public. Keep your head down, turn down all requests for interviews and just live your life.

Instead, in the article Geimer continually criticizes, if not attacks, the district attorneys for keeping the arrest warrant on Polanski active. One of her quotes really bugs me:

I have become a victim of the actions of the District Attorney.

I thought you were the victim of Polanski, Ms. Geimer. And these guys are just trying to help -- maybe not you anymore, but other 13-year-old girls who could be raped by men who think they could get away with it because of the precedent set by Polanski. I find it puzzling, if not bizarre, that Geimer sees herself harmed more by the city attorneys than Polanski. In fact, it sounds like she is actually defending Polanski. And that both creeps me out and pisses me off.

The two fucking times I had no ante while playing Poker Palace I would've won with a pair of kings and flopped a straight. But of course I folded, so Poker Palace made sure I'd regret it by letting me know I would've won. And then it fucked me over again by stringing me out for another straight I didn't get at the river. Fuck you for stealing all my fake money again, PP.

I need to wake up 3 1/2 hours from now -- well, now less than that -- yet I'm still surfing the Internet. Worse yet, I'm still debating whether to knock one off before I go to bed. But will that just make me feel more awake? And what if I smell when I go to work tomorrow morning?

Sorry To Say This, But I Think Bruce Willis Is An Asshole

I think Autograph magazine a year or so ago named him the celebrity most difficult to get an autograph from. I think he's a prick to fans. And I guess he wasn't very, um, professional when promoting his new movie out yesterday, Surrogates (which, by the way, was not screened in advance for critics, a sign that the movie sucks):



I want to like the guy; I remember first watching him on Moonlighting, and I thought he was totally badass in the Die Hard movies. He has since transitioned into a very good career since, including Pulp Fiction and 12 Monkeys. And he's a riot on Letterman. Everywhere else, I guess he's an out-and-out dick.

How Many Rows Of Stars Are On The American Flag?

That's the daily trivia question at the Caribou Coffee I go to. I get it right, I get ten cents off.

I thought I had it. I knew it alternated between, like 6 and 7 stars, so I counted up to 50 and realized the math didn't work. I looked behind me to make sure no one was waiting behind me. No one was. So I redid the math with 5 and 6 stars ... OK, 11 stars per two rows ... "seven!"

"Nine," she said.

And after I did the math, nine was perfect: If there are 11 stars per two rows, there are 44 for eight, and one more row of six stars equals nine.

How the fuck did I mess that up? I wasn't rushed, there wasn't anybody behind me after I got the answer right. God, how can I be so stupid? And now I paid a dime more than I should have.

I'm getting old. I'm breaking down.

Will Be Dark The Next Few Days

Taking a vacation with my mom. Hopefully we won't fight. Should be back with a blog post Friday night/Saturday late night. Sorry, no WMNSS. Thanks.

T-Mobile, Your Customer Service Sucks

Called T-Mobile because I needed to become the primary holder of me and my father's account. But I couldn't get the woman, named "Lauren," to switch it for me because I'm not the primary; my sister is.

But she's in Europe right now, and she ain't comin' back. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

"Well, you'll have to call her and tell her to call us."

"You mean, I can't just pay this bill over the phone myself but keep the account under her name?"

"Sorry, I can't give out that information."

Geez, I know she's just doing her job, but being a member of customer service only to say to customers that they can't be "serviced" doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I had to go through the same bullshit with the county when I needed to get some information for my Grandmother. And, it's really frustrating.

I've been through some hassles with T-Mobile ever since I joined in an account with my family (my mother at one time was obsessed with switching plans to get a better deal), but I never thought they were a pain-in-the-ass to deal with. Until now.

T-Mobile, your customer service sucks. And Lauren, you're an unhelpful idiot.

I was dreading what My Father would say to me as I crossed paths with him in the dining room after I came back home. But he didn't yell at me. First he asked if he wanted to eat the noodles he just ate. Then he proceeded to yell at me again for not going back to school. But then he quickly changed the subject and talked about real estate. Again. For the next 80 minutes he talked about his real estate properties, with quesions about my future, badmouthing our relatives and warnings to brush my teeth sprinkled in. At least I think so; it was hard to pay attention.

I'm glad he's not yelling at me, but this is, like, the second or third time he just had this one-way conversation with me. And again, he sounded lost and dejected. In fact, the whole thing was bizarre and confusing. Did he really just want to talk to me for 80 minutes?

He really may be losing his mind now.

What a bad day. My team got upset today, and then I try to make a teensy-weensy bit of small talk with the man who answered my call at the Holiday Inn in San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf and he tries to get me to end my call in a way that sounds like he's in the middle of getting his dick blown. Geez, I don't think San Francisco is a nice town.

Maybe this is all payback. I was a bit snippy to both my grandmother (before she left for the simulcasts at the track) and my uncle (who did nothing but help fix our van). This day blows.

Accused Gang Rapists Are Just Gangbangers. Phew!

This is a public relations fail.

Four guys were arrested and accused of gang raping a student at Hofstra. Two days ago the accuser admitted she lied about the gang rape and the charges were dropped.

Stalin Felipe is one of the four men who was accused. Remember, he has been cleared of rape, and it now looks like he just participated in a 4-on-1 gangbang with his three friends. But on a talk show on CNN Headline News Friday, he actually has the balls to insist that, even after not denying what seems to be the truth about the incident, he and his homies are really just romantics at heart:

"We respect women," he said. "We know how to treat a lady. The thing they said with the rope, come on. That's disgusting. That's what we were looked at as: disgusting men."

OK; these guys are innocent -- legally. Gangbanging ain't a crime. And hell, I like a good consensual gangbang as much as anyone. But really, what you people did is pretty fucking disgusting. And for shit's sake, you weren't "respecting" this woman when you guys ganged up on her in a dormitory bathroom (maybe with her explicit consent, maybe with her implied approval, I don't know), tied her up, and dropped your dicks into her one by one. What y'all did was sick. That's the most fucked-up part of us men: We like sick shit like that. Violent sex like that gets us off. Admit it! But admit it to your friends. Away from the camera. And don't act like you're the aggrieved party here. Face it; when a masochist chick allows you and three other guys to have that much power over her, lets you tie her up and have your way with her, you are not a victim, and I don't give a flying fuck what happens to you afterward.

Oh, and one more thing, Stalin (and what kind of American names their kid Stalin? Is Glenn Beck on this Commie's ass yet?): Were you and your buds "respecting" this woman when y'all recorded the gangbang on a cell phone? It turned out to be the evidence that got you guys off, but you were lucky that the thing that covered your asses is video that you goddamn well know you were going to share with your other friends, or even strangers you want to impress. I don't see how recording a 4-on-1 gangbang for future enjoyment is "treating a lady." Douche.

You'd Think I'd Remember My Best Friend's Birthday By Now

I still haven't.  After, what, 18 years of knowing him?  I just called because I had some free time this evening and I hadn't heard exactly what he and his friends did in Vegas.  So I call and he says, "Did you call to wish me a Happy Birthday?"  And once again, I didn't know.  And I wouldn't've even thought it was if not for me having nothing else better to do except call him.

Yeah, I'm a bad friend.

Goodbye Guiding Light And The Voice Of Sirius XM Real Jazz

Guys, in case you don't know, tomorrow/Friday at 2 Central is the last-ever episode of Guiding Light, the longest-running television program of any kind ever.  It will die at age 72.  It has run so long, it was a radio show for the first 15 years of its life.  With such longevity and such a lofty place in the history of broadcasting, a sentimental part of me wished CBS would keep it around just because.  But I guess people aren't watching anymore.  That's sad.  I'm no soap opera fan, but I'll try and record the last episode -- if I know how to record with my converter.

Another sad thing I noticed late last night: The voice for the bumpers on Sirius XM Real Jazz changed.  For a long time it was what sounded like a bassy black man.  But this time last night (although the change may have been made around late Tuesday night when I didn't listen to satellite radio because I was too busy wanking to porn) I noticed a different voice.  It sounds Caucasian and familiar.  And several minutes ago I realize where I've heard that voice from: I believe it's the voice that did liners for the defunct XM alternative channel Lucy.  Boy, I hated that guy.  The script he read was full of smug "nineties" jokes that weren't funny.  But now he's doing jazz.  I wish I had a radio gig like his.  I wish I had a radio gig.  I wish I had a gig, period.  And I feel for the old voice; where did he go, and what will he do now?

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Vikings (Re-Entry!).  I was really afraid the Vikes were going to play poorly.  Eric Magini, after all, was Defensive Coordinator for the New England Patriots when they won three Super Bowls.  But the Vikings' 14-point win at Cleveland -- punctuated by this Adrian Peterson touchdown run, which is just badass -- pretty much wiped away any fears the Browns could exploit any tendency of Brett Favre to take over the show or lapse in the defense.  Although they were trailing at the half, I can't remember the last time this team won a game so handily and with an ease that made every Vikes fan sit calmly in his Barcalounger knowing that this was in the bag.  It's just one game, but they look solid.  And they should go to Detroit and beat the Lions this Sunday, even though their meeting in the Motor City last year was the closest the Lions got to avoiding their 0-16 season.

And by the way, I also can't remember the last time (OK, maybe Randy Moss) a Viking led the entire NFL in jersey sales, as Brett Favre did between April and August.  And he did so only in the ten days after he signed with the Vikes in mid-August.

#-2: Gopher football (Last Week: -2).  TCF Bank Stadium looks great?  TCF Bank Stadium looks new.  All new stadia look great.  But I still want to go, even though corporate sponsorship of football buildings is an absolute abomination, especially in college football.  Anyway, great gutsy win by the Gophers.  I wasn't sure they could beat the United States Air Force Academy, but that was some fumble recovery for a TD by LB and warrior Nate Triplett.  That, plus his 17 tackles, is the reason this senior -- who was a walk-on! -- is this week's National Defensive Player Of The Week.  Great story, great job!  And now, a great test, as the Gophs host eighth-ranked Cal and RB stud Jahvid Best.  Will this Saturday mark the first loss at The Bank?

#-3: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: -1).  You know, it's not an absolute disgrace to be swept by Washington if the Huskies are ranked third in the poll.  But the Gophs are ninth, so I thought they'd be a little more competitive.  And goddammit, I had higher hopes for this team.  They have to beat the best if they're going to win their first-ever championship.   And seeing that their two losses are to Washington and another team ranked above the, Nebraska, I can see even clearer where their place is going to be by the end of the season.  I think they have enough talent to make some noise.  At least I thought they did.  Oh well; they have one more non-conference invitational to go to, this one in Denver, where the main competition is twelth-ranked Oregon.  I hope they don't lose to anyone below them.

#-4: Gopher soccer (Last Week: -3).  G Cat Parkhill's streak of not allowing a goal came to an end in Friday's 3-2 win over UW-Milwaukee, but the team's four-game unbeaten streak came to an end Sunday afternoon in a 1-0 loss to the other Brew City team, Marquette.  Their record now stands at 4-2-1.  And this is the extent of what I know about the Gopher soccer team.  I should go to one of their games this weekend as they host Nevada and Montana in the Minnesota Gold Classic, but I have this viewing party to go to on Saturday and then I have this roller derby thing I think I should go to Sunday, and I don't want my parents to get too upset about me being out all weekend, so maybe I'll stay home Friday night.

#-5: Twins (Last Week: -5).  I guess it could be worse.  They played all six games this week at home.  The Twinkies lose their first two to Oakland then win their last four, including a sweep of Cleveland.  (I was at Wednesday afternoon's game -- verdict: Cuddyer has to step up, and the bullpen still has problems.)  So they stand 4 1/2 games behind Detroit.  They come here for three this weekend, but do you really believe they can sweep?  And even then, do you think they can overcome a 1 1/2 game-gap when they have to go on the road for a 10-game, 11-day trip?  Especially when they open next week at Chicago?  I'm hoping to see some fight in this injury-depleted ball of spit and duck tape.

(By the way, after the series against the Tigers is over, they have three games left at the Dome.  Only three!  They have this huge scoreboard showing the number of games left, the number of which they remove after the end of the fifth inning.  Tony Oliva did the honors today, and when I saw the "6" go to "5," I thought to myself, That's all that's left?!)

#-Infinity: Lynx (Last Week: -4).  Well, a season that began with so much promise and energy ends with this fucking cursed team going 14-20 for the season and sitting out of the WNBA playoffs for the fifth consecutive year.  They had to finish a game better than San Antonio.  Facing a Los Angeles team that was going to finish third no matter what, the Lynx just gave nothing in a 90-61 ass-kicking.  And then on Sunday they lost by 22 at Sacramento, a team that contributed to the Silver Stars nailing down the final playoff spot in the Western Conference by losing at home to them two days before.  (And they're not that good; on Saturday they lost at home to conference leader Seattle by nine point.  Not a way to make a statement.  They're 15-19 and they're in the playoffs.  What the fuck is this, the NHL?)  Don't make excuses about Seimone Augustus and then Nicky Anosike going out for the year because of injuries; they have too much talent to be setting up tee times now.  And I'm frustrated.

What began as a fun offensive show -- the Nash/Stoudemire/Marion Phoenix Suns, distaff version -- turned dark once the Lynx's Achilles' heel was exposed: They couldn't play defense.  They finished dead last in opponents' FG% and 3PT%.  How can you win if you can't stop anybody?  I'm surprised that they haven't been folded yet.  Seriously, if a WNBA team misses five straight playoffs, in this economy, how are they still around?

There is one thing about the organization, however, that I am very impressed by: As soon as the season was done, they apparently put out a free and downloadable postseason guide.  It is very thorough; you can skim through every page and find any statistic or detail you want of the failure of the Lynx's season.  (The stats I gave you are on page 60.)

Oh, by the way, Coach Jen Gillom has been named an Assistant Coach for the 2010 Women's Basketball Team.  I hope you learn defense from Head Coach Geno Auriemma, Ms. Gillom.

Poor Bastard Of The Moment: Jay Leno

OK, I'm on Team Letterman. But I'm certain that person-to-person, Dave's a dick. On the other hand, Leno may not comedically be my cup of tea, but he seems like a really nice guy.

So I kind of feel sorry for him when former President Jimmy Carter weighed in on Kanye West's asshole move on Taylor Swift at the MTV Video Music Awards. A day after he said Joe Wilson's "you lie!" comment was coded racism (he's right), he said West's taking the microphone during Swift's speech accepting her VMA was "completely uncalled for." But this line from the story takes the cake:

Carter says West's punishment was appearing on Jay Leno's new prime-time show.

Oh, come on! It's Jay's first week, let him iron the kinks out!

Poor bastard.

Random Thoughts

• I now really dread facing My Father.  No particular reason, but in my head I just don't want to hear what's coming out of his mouth at all these days, not a single word.
• Kelly Clarkson's on Kimmel, and of course as she's about to sing, my grandmother asks me to call Hong Kong for her.  Then she loses the phone number, so I go back to my room to look for the country code -- but really I just want to see Kelly.  She's about to do another song, but of course my grandmother knocks on the door again to say she found the number.
• Doing my usual Tuesday night roundup of Reality Kings porn is really taking up a lot of my time.  It took me over two-and-a-half hours to wank myself to all the sites this week.  Sheesh.
• I thought I had more thoughts, but I forgot.

Beyonce Was All-Class, And Kanye Was All-Ass

And what's with all the bad behavior at the U.S. Open?  First Serena Williams goes all batshit bratty on a line judge, and then Roger Federer starts abusing the umpire.  What the fuck is going on?  And who do these tennis player assholes think they are, God?

Person Who Should Be Fired: Joe Wilson

This racist Republican congressman asshole was the guy who shouted "You lie!" while President Obama addressed Congress on health insurance reform on Wednesday.  But just as worse is the opportunism he lecherously sinks to when he uses that speech to raise money for his campaign.  Worst still, he unequivocally shows that the apology he made to the President was nothing but lip service.  He doesn't give a shit about calling the President a liar.  Deep down, he's glad he did it -- even though no one from the legislative branch of our nation has ever showed up the Chief Executive like that.

And now worst of all: It seems to be working.  Reports say he has matched his likely Democratic opponent, Rob Miller, dollar for dollar after his tantrum.  He's from fucking South Carolina, for God's sake, so I doubt this would've hurt his chances of getting re-elected.  But the money shows that there are some people, some Americans living amongst us, that heckling a bi-racial President is the right thing to do.

I mostly don't trust politicians, but the cliche is true: We elect the government we deserve.  If there are assholes backing up this asshole Wilson, they can go to hell.  They should go to hell first, because they're more dangerous than the congressmen they elect.

I Could Talk About My Fucking Father Whining Like A Baby Over Me Not Throwing Away My Clothes Or My Grandmother Keeping Old Food In Her Bedroom And Attracting Rats (He Could Be Lying), But I'd Rather Blog About Something Positive Tonight:

I showed my pee-pee to another stripper I like!  This was last week, and I barely remember doing it, but circumstances left me alone with her in the dark couch with very few people in the LD area.  That was my chance!  I took all the contents out of my pockets ... including my cock, when I called her by name, turned to face the wall and whipped it out!  I wish I was more aroused -- it was probably an inch long -- but I wanted to show her my manhood after all these years of turning me on.  She didn't report me to the bouncer, and thank God she didn't laugh at it.  But she slapped my arm and told me to put it away.  Glad she did, too; the nanosecond after I buttoned up the lady birddog went in real quick to take a peek around.  What's more, the camera that I remember being told a long time ago was stationed on top of the ceiling at this particular couch is still there.  But thank Buddha the bouncer didn't see it, something the Object Of My Affection says happens often.

Again, I wish I were longer, but another one of my fondest and longest-planned dreams have come true!

My Fucking Father Changed His Fucking Mind Once Again!

Goddamn, after all the hoops I jumped through for you, after all the shit I've had to take from you, you decide not to go through with it?!  After you tell me three days ago to do it?!?!  Fuck you!!!

I don't know I didn't see the other application, Father, although every time I tried to download it to the desktop I get that funky goddamn spyware window with everything all in fuckin' computer gibberish that I couldn't remove after My Fucking Mother wanted me to download a video player so she could see her Chinese soap operas.  I would've been able to fill that out and fax it away like your panicky punk-ass didn't then did want to last night.  But I only got it today after getting off work, so I had to drive from the U. to the Brookdale library (no way do I trust the computer at home for .pdf files) then to the store.

Father, I'm really you didn't lose your fuckin' shit after filling out another form.  But after I ask you a bunch of simple questions on the form -- name, SSN, job title -- I get to bank account information, and you turn into a little bitch.  And after I get halfway through the goddamn form, you say you don't want to do it anymore, and then say you don't need to fill out the application form because it's a loan form and you're going to pay for all the properties you win at auction in cash???  If that's so, why in the hell did you want me to go through with this paper-pushing bullshit?!  You just wanna fuck with me???

Does this mean I get to be angry with you Sunday morning when this fucking auction comes along and you don't buy anything, as you usually don't?!?!

Is My Fucking Father Trying To Say He's Sorry Or Is He Just Fucking Crazy?

So My Fucking Father is on my case all day to make calls and send out this application for pre-approval for a loan to line up if he buys a property for this Las Vegas auction online on Sunday.  I get real pissed because he's making me do this for him, thereby altering my day.  I have to forego my early-evening nap just so I can download the .pdf file, but then I see it won't save what I type, so I have to print it out, have My Fucking Father sign it (alongside My Fucking Mother, who My Fucking Father says of course she has to sign, even though he has made no mention of this at all during this fucking arduous process), then fax it.

This is where he totally goes off the goddamn reservation.  He wonders where in the neighborhood he can fax it.  He then asks me to call my sister's best friend, who lives two houses down from us and is very busy, if she has a fax.  (And of course she doesn't.)  I ask My Fucking Father all these questions about why he's in such a tizzy.  I even volunteer to just go and fax it for him because he seems, like he sometimes does in matters that matter only to him, that he wants this done as soon as possible.  He tells me to eat.

So I eat.  And I watch the football game.  (Good game, too.)  After 8 o'clock, though, I hear him yell from the basement, "Are you leaving?"  Leaving?  For what?  "Are you going to fax it?"  You want me to fax it now???  Why the fuck do you want me to fax it now when you told me you didn't want me to fax it before?!  What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!?!  I should have just started ranting, but I didn't; I did say, however, that he didn't say he wanted me to fax it.  And then My Fucking Father just started yelling at me; I don't want to remember the details because they were so fucking goddamn stupid.  All I know is he didn't want me to fax it, then he did want me to fax it.  Asshole.  Fuck You, Father.

I was all tense leaving for Kinko's, coming back, trying to act like everything's OK when I went downstairs to pick up my pops to put in the upstairs refrigerator.  Passive-aggressive moment: Jangling the keys to their car, which I used to drive to Kinko's, and leaving My Fucking Father the copy of the pre-approval form with the receipt stapled on the front.  I expect to be paid back for this, you prick.  I tried to be strong, but as I sat back down to watch the game on the dining room TV, my heart pounded and my whole left side tingled and felt week.  I was scared, and I hate it when he does that to me.

And I dreaded it when I was still watching the game, now into overtime, when I saw the lights on the foyer and footsteps getting louder up the stairs.  No, it ain't My Fucking Mother, who for one night at least has gone back to exercising then retreating to bed.  No, it's My Fucking Father, who again has the late-night munchies and decided to whip up some eggs.  I was afraid of it, but it happened; My Fucking Father started talking to me, about what I was watching.

Now, in the past, I would've just retreated to my room the minute I heard footsteps.  Later, I would've shut off the TV and left the dining room once he asked me his first question.  At an even later age, I would've started fucking yelling at him: You laugh in my face and now you want to talk to me?  Are you so stupid that you can't even fucking remember shit you said an hour ago?!?!?!  What's wrong with you, you motherfucker?!?!?!  But either because I was too goddamn tired to fight, or, as much as it pains me to say it, this was his way of trying to apologize, I did what I never thought I would do: I answered him.  Tersely -- "Football's on ... it's between Pittsburgh and Tennessee ... it's 10-10 and in overtime" -- but I answered him, and without sounding annoyed or antagonistic.  I even just turned the TV around so he could see it from the kitchen.  And so I sat and he sat down and ate and kind of watched, and even though we didn't really talk we didn't really fight, either.  And he didn't bring up the bullshit he laid on me the hour before as a way to teach me a lesson or some other patronizing line of puke.  He didn't say goodbye as he left, but again, as much as it pains me to say it, the stress I felt largely evaporated after that point.

So, does that make things easier or harder when I tell him I won't be eating dinner at home the next two nights?

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Gopher volleyball (Last Week: -3).  They bounced back from snatching defeat from the jaws of victory by sweeping the Diet Coke Classic.  The Gophers extracted a small amount of revenge on the Iowa St. team that came into the Pavillion and upset them in the second round of the ... wait, wait, wait, that's the NCAA tournament, this is a non-conference tournament.  They're not the same, the Cyclones still have the better of them.  For this they rise back into the Top 10 of the AVCA poll.  Congratulations to Tabitha Love on being named Big 10 Co-Freshman Of The Week.  They test themselves again this weekend for the Tampa Twice Tournament.  On Friday they face third-ranked Washington.  Too bad they don't also play co-Top 10er Florida, which is also in the tourney.

#-2: Gopher football (Brand New!).  I was afraid they would lose to Syracuse.  It'd serve the Gophers right to lose in overtime to Greg Paulus, a converted Duke point guard who transferred just so he could play on the gridiron.  Thankfully he choked like his Blue Devil teams did, throwing an interception precisely when he should've thrown it away.  That doesn't mean the Gophs played well; hardly, as on Saturday night they christen the brand new TCF Bank Stadium by hosting the United States Air Force Academy, the high-flying top guns who ran down the throats of Nicholls State by a score of 72-0 last week.

#-3: Gopher soccer (Brand New!).  I am so sorry; I totally forgot that the soccer team started their season two weeks ago, just like the volleyball team!  To catch up: They are now ranked #23 in the NSCAA poll and start off the year 3-1-1.  Unfortunately, the loss was to 16th-ranked Georgia when the Gophs were ranked 17th.  And just like the volleyball team, one of its players has been given Big 10 Co-Freshman Of The Week honors: G Cat Parkhill, who has not allowed a goal in the last 200 minutes of game time.  Can she continue that as her team takes a road trip to Milwaukee to play the top-flight schools in Brew City, UW-Milwaukee and Marquette?

#-4: Lynx (Last Week: -5).  A pair of fourth-quarter rallies at Target Center gave them necessary W's over Seattle (who played without superstar Lauren Jackson) and Detroit.  For all their trouble, they are now tied with San Antonio for the final playoff spot in the Western Conference with both teams having two games left to play.  What sucks for the Lynx is that they lose the tiebreaker to San Antone, so they have to finish with one more win than the Silver Stars do.  Who do they Lynx play the final weekend of the regular season?  Los Angeles on Friday and Sacramento on Sunday, both on the road.  Who do the Silver Stars play?  Sacramento on the road tonight, then Seattle at home Saturday.  Hope you've arranged your flights to your overseas teams, ladies.

#-5: Twins (Last Week: -1). It's over.  A 3-4 week capped off by Scott Baker losing for the first time in more than two months keeps them within the ballpark of the division-leading Tigers -- if that ballpark was really, really big.  There is nothing that says that this team will put everything together, nor is there any sign that Detroit will fall apart.  Who has fallen apart is Justin Morneau, whose slump I didn't notice because I was caught up in all the Favre drama.  As is the rest of Minnesota.  We've stopped giving a shit guys, and we won't care until you play your last game at the Metrodome.  But they do play there the next 10 games; this weekend they host Oakland for a trio, then starting Monday they host Cleveland for a trio.

Back To The Normal ... Dammit

Left the sprinkler on to drink coffee at Barnes & Noble.  Wanted to get back before my parents did because I didn't think it was going to rain.  It didn't, but they beat me back home.

Tried to say hi to My Fucking Father; didn't reply.  Grandmother said he wanted to talk to me.  He finally had the nerve to intercept me as I was passing through the dining room.  You've got to water the brown grass on the other side else it'll die, he said, "OK?".  Well it's your fucking sprinkler that you bought, why the fuck did you buy it if didn't do the job for you.  But I didn't say that.  I say "OK" in that smartass way knowing that my response won't be reciprocated sincerely, like it hasn't all my life.  And it didn't this time; he just glowered at me as he turned his head away.  I fuckin' hate that.  I didn't mean to waste your water, neglect the lawn and act like I don't care, but you think the worst of me.  Because of that, I think the worst of you.  Goddamn, just thinking about that makes my fucking blood boil all over again.

But then he actually started talking to me like I deserved a second chance (though I won't forget how you treated me -- fuck you, Father), asking me to turn off a pot while he was getting stuff at Menards.  Even weirder: Mother actually had dinner with us again!  It's the first time in almost a month.  Didn't talk besides asking me if I wanted to finish a dish, but it's like she wasn't pissed at me anymore and everything was back to normal.  And I felt ... kind of sad.  I shouldn't be saying this, but all these days of My Fucking Mother not talking to me, not even climbing up to the top level of her own house, and My Fucking Father cooking dinner for us, not even putting his bowl down to eat and cleaning the dishes quickly before retreating downstairs himself freed me of all the disappointed looks, the painful comments and the veiled threats that I had to endure just so we could act like a normal family.  I had gotten used to not talking to the people I live with very quickly; in fact, I kind of liked it.  Especially with the shit My Fucking Father pulled on me tonight, I kind of miss those days of them totally ignoring me.

He had me look at an e-mail; as usual, it's more grunt work, calling for something he should be doing himself because he has all the information and he knows enough English to get by.  I felt confident enough to barge into the master bedroom again and tell him about the e-mail.  (She talked to him, another thaw; this past month she just stared at the TV like I wasn't even there.)  I also feel justified in making a lot of noise tonight and leaving the bowl I used for salsa in the sink.  Fuck 'em.

I Am Absolute Fucking Terrified Right Now

Called my father this afternoon to tell him I'm not eating at home tonight.  He says, "We'll talk tomorrow," and he says it in a quiet, gentle tone.  He sometimes gets apologetic, even wimpy on occasion, like he did then.

And that has me scared.  What kind of bad news is it?  First I thought they finally decided to kick me out of the house, or at the very least demand that I now pay for car insurance (I also talked to him about getting the new insurance card, which went into effect on the 1st).  Then I thought that he might have, gulp, cancer.  And now I thought that maybe my uncle died.

My God, I don't know what the fuck it is, but any theory I can come up with is bad, very bad.  I can't stand it.

I wanted to get to the University of Minnesota early so I could get to the front of Commons early and take some of the swag that's always offered there -- stuff like university campus service keychains, regional transportation candies and mints, and informational pamphlets.  I like it, and I like all the people-watching while getting to Commons, most notably the fresh crop of young 18-year-old babes who have little confidence now that they're out on their own.

But today, when I woke up, my Grandmother asked me to take her to Cub Foods to get some chicken broth.  I ... I didn't know what to do.  I needed to check my e-mail, but I didn't really want to jeapordize any chance of getting to the U. early because I know it'll take at least half an hour grocery shopping with granny.  As I usually do when I dither, I do my browsing, then migrate to a little porn before stopping.

It was a quarter after 11 when I was ready to take my Grandmother to Cub.  Naturally, it took 45 minutes before we came back.  I got frustrated that I couldn't tell her that one of the bags had a hole in it.  But when I finally was ready to go, it was past noon.  I had no time to get there early; I would have just enough time to make it to "work."  And because there was no parking (I should've known that was the case because everybody needed to be at the U. for the first day of classes), it took me one trip around the area I usually want to park before I relented and paid for parking at a lot.  The ironic thing about this lot is that it's just about equidistant to the location of my "job"; the only difference is that I have to pay $3.75 to park there.

Oh, and I was a couple minutes late for my "job."  And when I finally got done and ran out to Commons, what I feared could happen did: All the tents and information stations were gone.  No one wants to stay out there past 3 because there aren't the crowds that are there at 11.

I guess that means I can be pissed at my Grandmother.  They were there if I only I could've gotten out there in time -- I swear they were out there -- but she wanted chicken broth.

The Nightmare I Had Just Now

I woke around nine this morning to the sound of the phone.  Grandmother answered it.  This is what I had after I fell back asleep before waking for good around 10:30:

I was at college.  Apparently I was back in school.  I was walking around in a building.  Suddenly, I couldn't see.  I wanted to see.  I tried opening my eyes as wide as I could, but I couldn't.  I finally had to pull them open.  It was so tough it felt like I was tearing them open.  I could finally see the sunlight; it burst onto my eye like a laser beam.

And then I woke up.

I Still Can't Think Under Pressure

What happened at the Wendy's this afternoon is partly the reason why I don't look for work.

Getting lunch for me and my uncle.  Go across the street.  Since there are no good towels at the store, I usually wash my hands and piss at Wendy's bathroom.  But this time it was locked, so I waited.  I dally down the hall when I hear the door open.  This young punk yelled at me some gibberish.  I just assumed he wanted to know if I was the one who tried to open the door, but he tried to show me up -- maybe, I'm not sure what he said.  But I took that as a threat, so my pulse quickened and my muscles tightened and my mind raced.

This ignorant prick finally got done.  He didn't acknowledge me, didn't even look at me, but he passed by me.  For what it's worth, I was prepared.  For what, though, I don't know.  This is like the days after I got teased at school.  I was all keyed up, but what was I steeling myself for?  I just get really tense.

And that's what happened as I waited in line.  The two groups ahead of me were particularly difficult and stupid -- telling the woman this is for here, asking for water, coming back to ask for a tray, coming back to say the kid spilled their food, coming back to say we're going to take this to go, all that bullshit.  This would rattle me when I'm feeling OK, but when I'm watching my back I get really testy.  I think I took it out on the girl who took my order.  I mumbled, "Coke," and she barked at me again to pick what kind of drink.  (Dealing with idiots would make me a bit pissy, too, so I understand her mood.)

I tried to calm myself down mentally -- don't yell, keep your emotions bottled up, let your feelings pass, and just grab your stuff and go.  And I did my normal routine at Wendy's after I ordered: I got the ketchup cup, the straw, the napkins, and then I put the straw in my drink, pull the wrapper into a knot, pull it apart to see if the knot held (it did, meaning no one was thinking about me then) and got the food.  But, when I got back to the store and dutifully went through my mental checklist (give Uncle money, give him nuggets, check to see if the burger was the Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger that's his or the Double Stack that's mine), I forgot the napkins.  The fucking goddamn napkins.

And that is the kind of mental lapse that still is so infuriating.  I'm so mad at myself that one argument from some motherfucker can spin me into losing my bearings and making me forget to do even the simplest and most rote tasks.  And this happens every single time I'm under stress, whether it's a stranger or a deadline or some obstacle I put in front of myself.  How can I function as a normal human being, someone productive and reliable, when I forget napkins because some asshole sounds like he wants to punch me in the face?  And how in the hell do you forget to get napkins, especially when you've gotten them every single time before?

Such self-loathing I feel.

Three Things, September 5, 2009

1. Was at the store, filling in for my parents.  Some guy came over to get some stuff; per usual, my uncle helped him while I manned the front ... if by that you mean "reading the paper."  They stop right in front of me and the customer says, "Your parents pay you to read the paper?"  And I'm like, yeah.  And I'm kind of offended.  But if I looked at myself just reading the paper five hours every holiday weekend, I'd be as baffled as this guy seemed to be.
2. Didn't see Grandmother as I left the house this morning.  I didn't turn my phone on all day while at "work" 'cause if she needed something from the store (as she usually does on holiday weekends when my parents aren't around), I figure she can call the store.  Well, my uncle said there were things she asked for.  I wanted to go to this bar straight from the store, but these are groceries, and some of them are frozen, and I really shouldn't be leaving them in the car because that's immature and I'm 33, blah-blah-blah, so I go home.  And I have to disarm the alarm.  I'm a little peeved; if she doesn't think it's important to be home to receive the food she asked for at the store, why should I come home?  Later, after I get to the bar, I finally turn on my phone; she left me two voicemails, minutes apart, asking me to call her back, presumably to hear what she wants from the store.  Why doesn't she just call the store?  And when she comes back home tonight, I figure out that she dialed the number for the store wrong.  The same number for 30 years.  Sigh.
3. The girl who finally touched my pee-pee back in the summer was at the stripclub where she waitresses.  She didn't really talk to me.  She said she was tired and bored, but she kept talking to her co-workers and some of the customers.  Was she really bored?  Did she not like that I called her while she was at the State Fair yesterday?  Maybe she hated that I called her again today, a call where I asked her to call me back and she obviously didn't?  Or is she quietly distancing herself from me because she squeezed my cock?

Empty As My Soul

Went to the store to pick up my parents to go to the airport.  It was empty; no customers were there.  Now, the store isn't exactly jumping these days, but there was a creepy stillness there.  My parents keep saying business isn't good anymore; feeling this isn't a good sign, and it makes me scared.

After dropping them off at MSP I do what I usually do after I drop them off at MSP: I go hang out at the Mall Of America.  It was dead there, too.  It is a holiday, but this is the last weekend before the kids go back to school, and it's the death of summer, so there have to be people who want to shop.  Not so; the entire mall was about half as crowded as I thought it would be.  Where did everybody go?

Maybe I Shouldn't've Been So Productive

When I woke this morning I was as refreshed and hopeful looking forward to he day as I've been in a long time.  I had stuff to do, and even the alarm clock (something I haven't woken up to in a long time) didn't bother me or stop me for getting going!  I needed to put my deposit together, I had to write a note to a person I went to high school to throw into a packet of Swiss chocolates I'm sending her, I planned on finally bringing in my pruning shears and the St. Thomas bag I got from the State Fair (more on that later) so my parents won't ask questions ... I was doing a lot of things, and as I looked through my to-do list in my Franklin Quest/Covey, I was ticking them off, one by one.  What a feeling of accomplishment!

The only thing is that I left later than I wanted to.  I had to get to the U. for my "job" in an hour, and I still had to go to the post office.  Early in my drive I spat up a lot of phlegm.  I tried to wait for a red light, but I didn't really get a chance to put my car in park so I can open the driver's-side door and spit it all out.  My commute was stop-free for the first time in a very long time, if not ever, and this was a time I didn't want that.  But I was able to make it to the post office; I spat on some rocks behind a tree in front of the office.

I wanted to get lunch.  I was squeezed for time, but I got a primo spot as close as I could to campus without paying for parking.  Wanted to go to Subway -- aw, damn line.  My backup plan was McDonald's.  I had, like, 15 minutes to eat.  But I wanted to try another of their Angus Burgers 'cause the first one was good.  But geez, it was expensive; over six bucks?!  I really can't afford that, and I thought I put myself on a budget after my trip to Switzerland.  But there was no line, and when I was asked to order, I got the Angus Burger with mushroom and swiss.  What the hell, you only live once, right?

And I only had 15 minutes to wolf my Extra Value Meal down.  Damn, is this going to hurt tonight (and it did; I've been either shitting or feeling like I should shit all night).  But I speedwalk over to the building then take the elevator (which thankfully was waiting for me).  I get to the "office" ... and I don't see my "boss."  Well, she sometimes runs late and is even a little scatterbrained; once she sees me she'll set me up.

After a couple minutes her colleague sees me and says that he hasn't seen her all day.  He let me use his computer to check my e-mail.  And sure enough, she cancelled the session.  If I only wasn't in a rush to leave because I had all this shit I had to do, I would've lollygagged it on down to the computer to browse the Internet and check my e-mail, where, at a little past 7:30 in the morning, my "boss" told me she wasn't going to come in -- thereby sparing me the need to rush out and get my things, any pressure to get into my car and drive to the post office and then to the U. on time, and, most importantly, my indecision and then gross display of consumption food that I would not've eaten.  Hell, I wouldn't need to go to the U.  I could've done even other productive things today, most importantly get my hair cut.  I'm not complaining too much; I got some things done.  And yet I feel like I wasted time too.

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Twins (Last Week:-1).  Who cares if you go 4-2 for the week and 11-4 in your last 15 games when Joe Nathan -- Joe Fucking Nathan! -- blows the lead with back-to-back homers with 2 out in the top of the ninth?  This team has broken down everywhere at all times; the last thing it needs is the "dependable" stopper to choke when they needed a sweep against the demoralized White Sox.  They thus are now 4 1/2 games behind Detroit in the AL Central, whose title is the only way the Twinkies are going to get into the playoffs.  And I don't know how they're going to do it if their pitching staff is being held together with baling wire and spit, aka Jon Rauch and Ron Mahay.  Do those two guys strike fear into anyone?  And would you depend on two journeymen to get yourself into the postseason?  They are on the road all week: Cleveland for the weekend, Toronto for the workweek.  Both opponents are out of it, but it's uncertain whether this team has the talent to put them away seven straight times like they have to.

#-2: Vikings (Last Week: -2).  OK, I'm starting to become convinced that Brett Favre is the answer.  The Houston Texans on Monday had to respect him and his passing ability, and that will allow Adrian Peterson to run All Day.  Better yet, he did what Tarvaris Jackson still has not been able to do: Lead a two-minute offense with poise and confidence, and read a blitz so he can get the ball to the right guy.  That first half-ending release pass to Chester Taylor for a TD was the stuff leaders do.  God I don't want to make myself believe that this team can win the Super Bowl, but. ...   The last exhibition game on Friday against Dallas is for scrubs, Jackson and Sage Rosenfels.  The only question is whether T-Jack or John David Booty will be the odd man out of purple.

#-3: Gopher volleyball (Brand New!).  They start off the season 3-1.  Unlike the Vikings, their season has already seen a possible ceiling to their championship aspirations.  First of all, it's good to see that they can sweep also-rans George Mason and Navy, but why is anyone in women's college volleyball playing games on Monday and Tuesday.  The more important games are against good teams, and they played in what was the best tournament of Opening Weekend: the Runza/AVCA Showcase in Omaha.  Yes, they beat Kansas St.  But they lost in five sets to Nebraska, a team which was beaten by Michigan, who now may be the team that finishes behind Penn St. in the Big 10.  They come back home to once again host their Diet Coke Classic Labor Weekend.  The big competition in this tournament is Iowa St., the lower-ranked team that came into the Sports Pavilion during last year's NCAA Tournament and completely embarrassed the Gophers in four sets.  (Goddamn, the Gophers were considered to be the sixth-best team in the whole fucking tournament and they lost to Iowa St.!  At home even!!!)

#-4: Timberwolves (Re-Entry!).  I do not buy any of Ricky Rubio's explanation that he wants more time to play in Spain.  No one turns down the NBA.  No one, unless you absolutely hate the team you've been drafted by.  Rubio would've come over if Knicks fans, Lakers fans -- hell, Clippers fans awaited him at the airport.  No fucking way he wants to play in Minnesota.  We ain't good enough for him.  And that's why he made up this cockamamie story about "some things happened" and "it wasn't to be."  A guy born in the nineties now fancies himself a philosopher?  Bullshit.  Rubio's just waiting David Kahn out.  And Kahn may just do that -- for good reason.  Rubio's veteran clock only begins once he starts playing on an NBA floors, so Rubio will be paid like a rookie as soon as he decides to become a rookie.  And if he continues to blow up in Spain, that only increases the value of players and draft picks the Woofie Dogs will receive once they trade him.  Also, yes, Rubio may have put more asses in the seats, but this franchise is going to suck for the next two years at least (although I repeat my assertion that the team before Kahn started blowing it up wasn't that far away from respectability), so he wasn't going to help anyway.  Well, at least we now have a coaching staff made up of guys I remember watching as players when I was young.

#-5: Lynx (Last Week: -3).  That's it, it's over.  Last one leaving please turn out the lights.  The thrill is gone, it's time to fold this team.  Dropping their latest game, an 84-82 double-overtime loss to San Antonio on Tuesday that gave the Silver Stars the driver's seat for the last playoff spot in the West, is a dealbreaker.  They just haven't been playing well; they couldn't get it done at Washington, and before then they had to drain 16 3-pointers (a record in regulation) to beat Western Conference doormat Sacramento by five at home.  They just can't stop people, plain and simple.  This week: their final two games at Target Center (maybe ever?) against Seattle and Detroit.  Good luck with that, ladies.

Friend asks me if I want to go to the Lynx's last home game of the year next Wednesday. I ask him to give me 24 hours. Actually I'm inclined to say no because Sep. 9 is the season premieres of America's Next Top Model (and it's a special season, too: all the contestants are short!) and So You Think You Can Dance. But the Lynx play Tuesday night against San Antonio, a team they're tied with for the fourth and final playoff spot. If they win, I might go.

They lose in double overtime by a basket. I call him this afternoon and tell him no. Well, he says (and I paraphrase), I already got a ticket. I thought you weren't going to get a ticket until I get back to you! And he sounds all disappointed and stuff, then he says he'll see me this weekend. Maybe for the last time? Is he mad at me for not going, and is he going to make me pay by not going to my parents' store to buy rice and lottery tickets anymore? Why can't we just be friends and not just people who help each other out financially? Friends and money never mix. Dammit...

• Tried to talk to my mom tonight.  She was helping out making dinner (noodles, and my favorite kind!), and when I got my bowl, I thanked her.  She mumbled something, maybe something like don't thank her, thank my Grandmother 'cause she did it.  Worth a shot.
• I ate a huge bowl of noodles, but then 90 minutes later I have a hunkering for a banana?  It may be because my Grandmother wanted me to eat one last night and I never got around to it because I instead ate the cupcake she shoved in my face as well as the banana, but I should've been full.  Instead I had hunger pains and I wolfed that banana down.
• All I wanted to do is grab my can of Coke and Sprite for drinking late at night.  It's something I've been doing now for the past few weeks, and even though it's bad for me, I love it.  Anyway, I get intercepted by my Father, who wanted to talk to me about some of the Vegas condos he's in the process of buying.  Talked about association fees and the problems of getting people to rent them enough times to make a profit.  I didn't mean to -- with My Fucking Mother still not talking to me I still need him as an ally -- but all this boring talk made me sleepy.  I'm still on Zurich time, and even though I've been battling to change my internal clock, I suddenly felt the need to pass out around this time again.  I don't know if I pissed him off when I yawned, but he immediately stopped talking to me and ordered me to bed.  Whatever.  I just hope he doesn't take it personally, like he usually does.
• I get very angry when I'm tired.  My Grandmother said earlier in the evening that she wanted help with calling overseas at around 12:30 or 1.  Well, after coming back up from downstairs and retrieving my drinks, I did fall asleep, only to be awakened by my Grandmother tapping on my door.  I shouted, "OK!  OK!" but I knew that she was right.  I just hope I didn't wake anybody up downstairs.
• I also have had horrible timing as of late.  After helping her call Hong Kong (and someone picked up, thank God, 'cause I couldn't stand trying to explain what "voicemail" is to her fucking again), I went back to my room, only to be able to hear her loud and clear from her bedroom.  So I walk all the way to her room in order to shut the door.  I decide to use the bathroom to pee, and as I sit down on the shitter, I hear her hang up the phone.  Fuck you, Grandmother, you make me go all the way to the other side of the house to close the door only for you to immediately end your call?!  (I wasn't so angry, however, after I left the bathroom because she wanted my help calling her friend in Australia.  Maybe she didn't want to talk so much on the phone because she had a second call to make.)
• More bad timing: I was listening to "A-Punk" by Vampire Weekend on my satellite radio, and as they get to the break where the lead singer shouts "eh-eh-eh-eh!" a part I like, my radio loses reception.  It's like all those times I'm looking forward to a plot twist or the introduction of a guest on a talk show and my parents and/or Grandmother knocks on the door asking me for something.  Always fucking happens.  Always.
• Man, masturbating to porn is like a full-time job, but one I love to work on!  Unfortunately, Reality Kings, my usual go-to company was on the fucking fritz again.  Tonight I wanted to browse through the latest pages of Money Talks, but their pages kept fucking up.  One time I'd see it, I'd click on a photo or video and it'd say "404 - Page Not Found," then it would reload after I give it a couple minutes, then I click and it would say there's no page again, then I'd go back and see computer code gibberish, then I'd see the page again but with all the images x-ed out/broken.  It took me a half goddamn hour to see all the latest videos from Money Talks.  What the fuck is wrong?

Two Overrated Epic Songs And One Underrated Epic Song

Overrated: "Stairway To Heaven" by Led Zeppelin and "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis.

Underrated: "Black Metallic" by Catherine Wheel.  (Click here for the song on YouTube.  It's just the song; you can watch the video, but it's a truncated, "radio-friendly" bastard version that sucks, and the video gathers up all the completely nonsensical images that marks the worst of '90's alternative videos.)