Holy flaming fucking shit!  An update!?!?!  Not really.  Working on something to put up here, but its not going very well considering that its finals week here.  Ummm, I'll throw up a recent essay I did (another boring one) recently on court masques and their more political aspects, especially "The Masque of Blackness" by Ben Jonson.  Its pretty short, lame, and cursory, and I doubt will get me more than a "C."  Oh well.   Later in the day will come the character list for a web comic or story series or something that I'm going to start this summer.  I'd like to see it as a web comic but, here's the kicker, I can't draw.  YAY!  So, maybe I'll find some art major sap who needs to build their portfolio or some hobo artist that needs my meal swipes for the campus dining room.  That is yet to be seen.

Oh, ps: www.friendlyhostility.com and http://www.twolumps.net/  Go read them.  They're good for you.  Like vegetables, but three times as fun.

This picture here.  That one of me overly-tanned and crouching behind my car with Lindsey holding up her hands covered in red stuff laughing?  Yeah, that would be the one.

This was an attempt at a ketchup filled water balloon.  Public Service Announcement:  It Didn't Work.

Other things that were attempted that night: Flaming Tin-Foil Balls, Flaming Hot-Dog Catapult, Hot Dog Booby Trapping the Golf Course, Pickle Bombing Mail Boxes, Chasing a Deer, Hitting a Deer with a Hot Dog, Throwing Hot Dogs off the Overpass.

This is my life.

If don't like it, you're probably boring.  Or at least 30.

Promised Original Fiction:

Johnny Frisk was what you would generally call pretty average.  Average height, average weight, average grades, average family.  He went to a clean suburban high school where he mingled and learned with clean, suburban children.  He went to church about every other week and tried his best at swim team practice but never placed better than second.  He liked to party but stopped short of insanity.  Johnny Frisk was pretty average.

This past summer Johnny graduated from his neat little school, in that neat little town, and shipped off with most of his class to state university.  He was assigned a square-ish beige room on the third floor of a modern, brick residence hall.  The students living around him seemed friendly enough, the bathroom and showers were primitive but tidy and the hallway lounge was quiet and comfortable.  Johnny unpacked his affects, set up his computer and said his goodbyes to his parents.

-------It's Late, I'll finish this later-------it'll be worth it though---------

-Pat

Swim meet against CASE Western in a few hours.

God these last two entries have sucked.

Some original fiction next post.  Promise.

Though  I doubt my non-existent audience cares much.

So we went to see Cloverfield on Friday in Beaver Creek, or Beaver Ditch as Bobby likes to call it.  Anyways, I had a blast, even though the movie sucked.  It lacked a plot, gratuitously abused 9/11 references, and just made me laugh at times.  Especially when the giant lobster things attacked in the subway, and then that Marlena chick popped.  I laughed at that.  And at the noise the things made.  The monster reminded me of a cross between Godzilla, a Hentai (sp?) tentacle creature, and Rosie.  Oh, and the main character in the movie were pretty uninteresting, especially that Beth girl, though, she was kinda hot.  I shed a sad tear when her boob was ruined by that piece of iron rebar.  Haha, thats a portmanteau.  And boob is palindromic.

We promptly kicked Hiram's ass at the swim meet the next morning.

This has been a rather unintelligent entry.

I'm gonna go find myself some Dr. Pepper.

An analysis of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead" from last semester using a bit of Queer Theory analysis and some Historical/Cultural analysis.  Did fine on the grades, but I'm still not very happy about the part of the essay.  I could have done more with the secondary sources that I was using.  Oh well.