Ramones and nachos

Listening to the Ramones, eating a Nachos Belgrande, hoping the next 14 days fly past. I can’t control my fingers, I can’t control my toes.

I’ve given up on about all of the web sites and journals I regularly read during lunch, except for CNN, which I read obsessively. Now that I watch CNN on TV and read it on the web, I can see how much news falls flat without the visuals. It’s all a bunch of shit anyway. They have a ton of crap about the Clinton scandal, and not a word about anything else. It sounds like things are getting wonky in Quebec again, there were these embassy bombings, and let’s not forget the dumb bitch who had her baby at the prom and killed it. While I commend her for ending the kid’s life instead of bringing yet another person with fucked up parents into the world, I cannot support her going to the DJ afterward and requesting a Metallica song. (So, you think her date got lucky? That’s the great thing about bringing a pregnant chick to the prom – you know she’s not waiting until she gets married.)

Marie has been forcing me to remember very obscure stories and facts from my childhood. Not forcing – she mentions some ancient toy or a story about her brother and I’ve instantly found some snippet of long ago to counter with. It’s been a blur of weird stuff from the Six Million Dollar Man toy with the bionic chips in his arm to that horrible meatloaf everyone’s mom makes with the crunchy onions inside and the red sauce on top. (I’m of the opinion that no human being should pay money for meatloaf – it’s a dish typically forced upon you, either by your mom or a dorm menu. I know you can buy it at Boston Market, which reinforces my theory that 97% of humanity is idiotic.) I led an odd childhood since I had a stay-at-home mom that wanted me reading Tolstoy before I went to kidergarten, and I lived in the middle of nowhere with almost no other kids around. Also my family didn’t have a lot of cash, so I didn’t have the latest of everything. I did have some legos and a lot of books, and some other toys like Micronauts and a GI Joe, but I didn’t get into the big fads like KISS toys and bell bottom pants and Peter Frampton records and all of the shit that’s now being re-sold to the Microsoft generation at primo prices. I didn’t even see Star Wars until its second theatrical run. So I guess I grew up fast on one hand, and didn’t grow up much at all on the other hand. It’s weird and I guess it’ll become a book someday.

I haven’t mentioned it for a few paragraphs now, but the Ramones really do kick ass.

I watched about 10 minutes of Friends tonight, and I’ve realized it’s completely unbearable. I guess I used to watch it as a way to kill time between the syndicated Seinfeld and the new Seinfeld. But it’s horrible now, like going back to your old elementary school and realizing you were retarded when you were 9. Now the TV diet is old-school: Conan and Seinfeld reruns, with an occasional piece of something interesting like Weekday Wings if they have cool planes on (I hate when they have episodes about cargo planes or some obscure RAF helicopter. Why do they paint targets on the side of their planes? Their aero industry is about as formidable as their music industry, except for maybe the Tornado. The good Harriers, the ones Ahnold flew in True Lies, are built stateside, you know.)

I should probably try to write. It’s suddenly very hot, but maybe it’s this horrible food eating at my insides. Have a better one.

Gabba gabba hey! Gabba gabba hey!

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