I AM NOW OFFICIALLY DONE WITH FINALS. CUSS YEAH.
And now, self-indulgent-meme-time.


My questions from Adamelbows:
1 what are some good books i should read RIGHT NOW?
click for bigger, easier to read version.

Enjoy.

2 what's a good zevon album to start on?
Start with Excitable Boy
then Warren Zevon,
Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School,
Sentimental Hygiene,
Life'll Kill Ya,
and, when you're ready to cry, The Wind.

3 what exactly is it you are majoring in now olivia?
Cuss if I know. English or Political Science- whichever gets me out the quickest.

4 where did your dumb lj name come from?
a drawing by David Shrigley :

5 what would you do right now if you were on fire?

Choose a band/artist:
Warren Zevon

Now answer the following using only songs by the band/artist:

Are you male or female: A Certain Girl Describe yourself: I'll Sleep When I'm Dead How do you see yourself: Trouble Waiting To Happen Describe your best friend: Genius Describe where you were before: Aint That Pretty At All Describe your love life: Accidentally Like A Martyr What's your best trait: Stand In The Fire Make a wish: For My Next Trick, I'll Need A Volunteer Tell a secret: I Was In the House When the House Burned Down Make a goal: Don't Let Us Get Sick

Are you young or old: Wild Age How do some people see you: Disorder In the House Describe your current or last boyfriend / girlfriend: Mr. Bad Example Describe where you live: Splendid Isolation Describe where you want to be: Back In the High Life Again Describe your sex life: Dirty Little Religion Your worst trait: Numb As A Statue Share a few words of wisdom: Even a Dog Can Shake Hands Name a regret: Nobody's In Love This Year Now say goodbye: My Ride's Here

Today I learned that opening the fridge door and yelling 'FREEZE! FREEZE DAMN YOU!' does not speed the process of making popsicles.

also,

Heh.

Despite all the vitamins I'm currently taking (flintstones and one-a-days and these golfball-sized monstrosities from a hippydippy health food store) I woke up sick AGAIN. I tried to get to class (last day! I dont want to miss the last day!), but the freezing cold rain just made everything worse. By the time I was on campus I had morphed into a giant shivery sneezing coughing leper person. Jesus would have loved me. Those sitting in my periphery on the bus...felt differently.

Plus I was doing the Sick-Kid-Striptease, which is when you're constantly taking off and putting back on your sweater, because everything is OMG-SO-COLD or WTF-SO-HOT and never in between.

So I went to the clinic and just sort of peered at the nurses/doctors/fake plants, as unnervingly as I could. I think my gaze ended up more bleary than disturbing. But that's fine, they actually gave me medicine. I dont expect this random-red-syrup-otussin to help at all, but at least I got a UF clinic person to prescribe something besides rest, fluids, and gator clapping. That's an accomplishment of which I can be proud.

Dayquil should release a special flu-fighting brand of cigarettes. Ironic AND practical!
There is no better combination of qualities.

Drunk sorority girl: Did you go to private school or public school?
Drunk fraterity guy: I went to private school... But I fuck like I went to public school.
Yeah, thats right.

In last month's issue of the Advocate, there was a really fantastic article about Dont Ask Dont Tell. The interviewer basically walked around an army base, pretending to be sympathetic/supportive of the policy, and interviewed straight guys. The answers he got back were shocking. Not in their bigotry but in their complete lack of giving a fuck.

Here's the article on the Advocate's website, but I'm putting it here on case they eventually take it down:

You’ve heard the threats -- about how gay men in the shower might bring down the U.S. military with a wink, a pinch, or a flick of a wet towel. But where’s the truth in that? What’s it really like to serve alongside gay and lesbian service members?
By Michael Joseph Gross

( click for the beginning of the article )


( click for the rest )

For fuck's sake... to take classes on Joyce, American political thought, and drawing, I'd need 3 different majors.

Times like these I just repeat the mantra GREAT LIBRARIES SOME GREAT TEACHERS GREAT LIBRARIES SOME GREAT TEACHERS over and over, so that I may resist the urge to light myself on fire.

Live Your Life


"I am not a fan of books. I would never want a book’s autograph. I am a proud non-reader of books. I like to get information from doing stuff like actually talking to people and living real life."
—Kanye West, promoting his book “Thank You and You’re Welcome.”

Whoever said life is an open book probably didn’t have any friends. Sure, he probably liked the people in his book. But did they like him? No. Why? Because they aren’t real.

My friends are real. They actually talk to me. Like just the other day my friend Bill said, “I’m not reading your e-mail for you anymore. You need to learn how to read.” And I said, “Bill, if you don’t read me my e-mail, I won’t sign an autograph for your son.” And Bill was, like, “Well, go fuck yourself. I’m going back to the hospital.” Bill’s son, Bill, Jr., or Billy Bob, was in the children’s unit there. He didn’t read the label on the box of his Sticky Stones™, and when he swallowed three of the iron-ore magnets they fused into a chain along the wall of his esophagus. Bill, Sr., felt extra bad because he hadn’t read that a consumer safety group had placed the Sticky Stones™ on its annual list of the ten worst toys. I told Bill that’s life. That stuff happens when you are doing stuff. In life. Real life. If I had told you that what had happened to Billy Bob had happened in a book, you would have said no way, that would never happen, that’s fiction. But it did. Because I told you it did.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There are a few books that I am a fan of. Matchbooks are good. A lot of people are under the impression that books burn only at a specific temperature. But it’s just not true. I can burn most books at or below 451 degrees Fahrenheit. Sometimes below 300, if I soak the jacket in lighter fluid.

I also like MacBooks. You can really do stuff on them, you know. Like see how many followers you have on Twitter, or take pictures of yourself with Photo Booth, or play Second Life, or check if Bill has checked your e-mail. I miss Bill. He set up my Facebook account on my MacBook. I’ve got my own page on there. I have more than a million fans. Do you know how many fans Books have? Twenty-five thousand seven hundred and sixty-four. That’s it. So I’m not alone here. You know what else has more fans than Books? The Olive Garden. One hundred and eighty-five thousand nine hundred and eighty-six. What else? Sleep: over three hundred thousand. More people would rather be unconscious than read a book. Now, I’m not condoning sleep. I’m about doing stuff. Living life. But it just goes to show that I’m in the majority.

Right now you’re probably wondering, Hey, why is this guy, a proud non-reader of books, writing this? Isn’t this a Catch-22? And I say no, it’s not. It’s a Catch-23. What’s a Catch-23? It’s like a Catch-22, except there is no catch. I don’t want you to read this. In fact, you should stop reading right now. Seriously. Stop reading this. Start doing stuff. What kind of stuff, you ask? I don’t know. Why don’t you go to the Olive Garden? But just watch out. They give you the never-ending salad before the never-ending pasta bowl. You wouldn’t think so, but the salad fills you right up. The lettuce is mostly iceberg. All water. And the waiter really makes you feel like shit when you don’t make it to the fettucine Alfredo.

Sometimes when I don’t know what to do I imagine other people doing stuff. But like people in a different time. Or like people in a different place. And I think how cool would it be to be that person for awhile. Like to know how other people I don’t know talk or do stuff. How they really live, you know? But that’s when I’m not doing stuff of my own. Which is all the time anyway. ♦

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