not much to say. read a lot of books this weekend. sooooo many books. of various genres. i’m fairly dizzy with them. i cannot stress enough, dear internet friends, how much you need to read a billy chaka adventure. that would be “tokyo suckerpunch” “hokkaido popsicle” or “dreaming pachinko.” in that order. by isaac adamson. trust me. i wouldn’t bunny-elk you.
and, in the grand tradition of a monday, i’ll let my entire blog entry be links to other people’s stuff. it’s just easier that way. did you know that dr. frank has a blog? not sure i’m worthy of such goodness, but there it is! free of charge!
steve sent out a link to rotten tomato’s reviews about the movie gigli, which stars ben affleck and j-lo. they are some of the best scathing reviews i’ve read in a long time. they are meeeeeeeean. laugh out loud mean.
‘k. that’s it. told you i had nothing of my own to showcase. it’s monday. i’ve spent the afternoon troubleshooting a troubled index. indexing is extremely tedious, i can’t figure the problem out, and therefore i’ve shut down brain. and this is what you get.
ps: thanks for the comments, dust mites! it’s good to hear from you!
oh, and in response to lisa:
the test is not online, but i suppose i can give it to you anyway. it’s pretty easy to take. it’s only about 15 questions, each half.
also, you don’t have my weather. i don’t know who’s weather you have, but 84 and stormy is not my weather. it’s too hot to be my weather. my weather would be more like upper 70’s. but most likely lower 70’s, if it was going to rain. we don’t actually get many storms. just rain.
maybe you have san diego’s weather?

here is a picture i drew, of louise and i, in new york.

louise is wearing that shirt because countless people in new york asked her what part of ireland she was from. she’s from scotland. “hoaching with talent” is scottish slang for “full of cute boys.”
i am not drunk in the picture, i merely tripped. however, after asking me if i was ok, an irish guy standing on the curb said to me “you’re a bit of a train wreck, aren’t you?” the sign refers to joe’s shanghai, a chinese restaurant in chinatown. getting there was a nightmare. our cab driver must have been new to town. he certainly was new to english. which is why he dropped us off on PEARL street, even though i even spelled out PELL. at that point, we didn’t care. we were out of cash. anyway, eating there was not all that pleasant either. the yelled at us the minute we walked in the door, because they were closing in FORTY FIVE MINUTES. oh dear. they screamed at us “YOU ORDER NOW. YOU WANT DUMPLINGS BEFORE YOU ORDER?’ not knowing anything about the dumplings, we just shook our heads. louise was so frightened by the pressure to order, she thought she might have ordered something with pork in it. and she hates pork. the food was below ok, and i wanted to order dessert because i didn’t like my food. there was a dessert card on the table, so i called the waiter over and pointed to the fried mini bun whoosey what. “that’s not dessert.” “it’s not? it’s on the card.” “that’s not dessert. no dessert.” and he walked away. but the final straw was the orange slices. we watched everyone get a plate of orange slices at the end of their meal. when we were done, do you think we got orange sliced? NO! did we even get fortune cookied? NO!! fuck joe’s shanghai and fuck chinatown and fuck pell st.
there is more to the reasoning behind fucking chinatown. but suffice to stay, we got trapped there twice. both times starving. it’s not important, but when i left, i’d had enough of chinatown. that picture was for the trip report the managers asked me to write.
hey guess what? i’m not cleaning a GOD DAMN THING in my apartment this weekend. whoooo-RAY!!