Taken from another site, applied here with slight changes.

So I'm running out of beverages that are not beer. I don't know whether that says I drink too much Coke or if it means I'm not drinking enough beer. In either case, I will be drinking more beer. Hooray, beer! (Red Stripe commercials were the ****. Why don't they come on anymore? My favorite was when the guy opened the door to another dimension or some **** and Mr. Red Stripe came out and said: Boo, scary room of evil! Hooray, beer! That one always made me larf uncontrollably. Re-dick.) I suppose I could drink more water, but then I'd have to put it in a glass with ice and all that jazz, then wait for it to get cool. Eff that shiz. Beer is cold now. 

So my favorite bookstore is apparently going out of business, the ****s. And wouldn't you know it's before I could get my ****ing rebate that they gave out on your tenth book. They did have a sale where everything was 30% off but by the time I got there, all the good stuff was gone. Damn litsnatchers. So I managed to snag a book of O. Henry stories (My 11th grade English teacher loves his stuff and we're tight like that so I thought I'd check him out) for about tree fiddy (It was about that time I noticed the clerk checking me out was about eight stories tall and was a crustacean from the Plesozoic era) and another one of Cormac McCarthy's novels (Blood Meridian) to add to my growing number of books written by guys named Cormac McCarthy.

If you didn't get the reference in that last paragraph, it was from South Park. It was the one where Cartman goes to the optometrist and Chef's parents come to town (You remember Chef. Big black guy. Wore a chef's hat. Turned into this guy on his last episode: 
 ) 
and keep talking about how the Loch Ness monster (From here forward: Nessie) has been trying to swindle them out of "tree fiddy" ($3.50) for years now. Some of Nessie's schemes are quite elaborate, going as far as dressing as a girl scout to trick Chef's poor, near-senile parents. The voices of Chef's parents are what kills me, though, especially his mother. I wish that episode would come on right now.

Is it bad that I get most of my news from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert? I mean, they can't be all bad; Jon Stewart's had Jimmy ****in' Carter on his show, like, a dozen times. Oh, and The Onion. Their article about the spider eggs that hatched in Bush's brain was riveting and insightful.

I really wish I had HBO so I could see The Flight of the Conchords' new season instead of having to wait for the DVD release like I did last season. I need my quirky Kiwi fix.

So I went to dinner with some friends of mine tonight and one of them took my leftovers from me. It was half a freakin' burger. The worst part is, it wasn't even for her, but some other person whose name I can't remember/never heard/don't care about. Stupid jerk should've come to dinner with us if he/she wanted food.

I'm also excited about Demetri Martin's new show. I hope to Klein it doesn't suck.

I have discovered that, despite me forgetting it existed, Red vs. Blue has soldiered on and produced about a bazillion DVDs which will take me more time than I'd like to procure. If I wasn't so against torrenting/too lazy to learn how to torrent, I'd just do that.

I didn't vote in this election, by the way. I missed early voting on campus and was too lazy to drive home to do it with all the other masses. I feel bad about it because this was my first opportunity to vote but, then again, my guy won so who gives a flying ****? <----That word? Bird.  Let me pose a question to all of you. Who has the better rhetoric class this semester: Me, with the rhetoric of southern rock or my friend, with the rhetoric of comic books. Most of my course involves listening to some of my favorite music. However, The Watchmen is one of his required texts. I think that's pretty damn awesome in its own right.

If you're wondering why this is so long: Why the hell not? It's a guest post; how often am I going to get this kind of chance? I need to make the most of it.

Anyways, back on/off-topic.

I love Kevin Hart but Comedy Central is apparently just recognizing the short little man's brilliance. He's one of my favorite comedians and they're just now giving him an hour special, a buttload of time after his first, half-hour special. 

Well, I think that about covers it. In summation: more beer, fewer bookstores, Nessie, fake news, New Zealand, stolen meat, Important Things, RvB, Communism, Rockomics, carpe postem, redirect, grown little man, wrap-up, my post was better than Hunter's, goodbye.


Here's the site.
It probably won't make much sense at all.
Also, my name is Ninety on said website.

Guilty Pleasures

The Princess Bride.

Sara Bareilles.

Imogen Heap.

The Donnas.

Brad Paisley's rediculous guitars.

Amadou & Mariam.

Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Esquire magazine.

Every single Victoria's Secret model (Actually, I have no guilt about that.)

Horror stories.

Anne Hathaway.

Eye-catching ties.

Chocolate News

Katt Williams

Comic Books

Folding@Home

My ever-changing desktop

Update:

Halloween Friday. Ajax costume complete. I'm probably going to freeze to death but it'll be worth it. Speaking of, it's getting cold as balls here in ATX and riding down the highway in what seem to me to be sub-zero temperatures is no fun at all when you're on a motorcycle. I had to go out and buy a balaclava and some thermal underwear since I don't have time to fiddle-faddle with my chaps in the mornings and am too insecure to leave them in my saddlebags while I go to class. Since I can't seem to stop rambling about motorcycle-related issues, Alex needs a bath. There's a place down the road that washes cars but I don't know if I trust them with her. Idiots would probably end up laying her on the asphalt. Plus, I doubt they'd get in all the nooks and crannies. 

And I'm up while the dawn is breaking, even though my heart is aching. I should be drinking a toast to absent friends instead of these comedians.
-Elvis Costello

Grrr....

I really want to dress up this Halloween as Ajax from The Warriors. If you haven't seen that movie, I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, it's a bit of a cult phenomena so every shop I've checked out is absolutely devoid of anything Warriors-related and I lack the skills to make my own costume. I wonder if I could get my mother to embroider the logo. That would probably be cheaper than buying a costume but might not turn out so well. I could go as one of the Furies but that's overdone and doesn't look nearly as cool.

In other news, I've officially started my college career. Two days under my belt and so far I'm liking what I'm seeing. Classes are interesting. My psych teacher swears like a sailor and seems pretty funny and interesting and appears to actually want to teach us, despite the enormous class size. My physics prof looks like he could be sitting with the class and has a tenuous grasp of the English language so understanding his directions in the lab might get a little hairy but he's pretty nice and friendly. I'm on the fence about my journalism class. While the coursework is pretty much what I was expecting and even hoping for somewhat, the class is very large and the professor (at least from my initial impression) is a bit uncharismatic. But we've only had one class so I'll reserve judgment for later. I'm going to love my 'Philosophy of the Theatre' class. There are only about twenty or so kids in it, everything we're reading interests me, we get to go see productions around town for free, and the professor is dean of undergraduate studies. We meet in his office. I also have a sneaking suspicion that he was the judge for one-act that kept us from going to state. I don't think so because I remember that guy having white hair and prof does not. Maybe he uses Just for Men? Also, we're reading Bacchae by Euripides. Guess who translated it. If you guessed the professor himself, you'd be correct. Turns out he's published quite a few translations, novels, and such. I guess that's to be expected of a man in such a prominent position.

As I used to say when I was being potty-trained:
I'm done.

Austin

I love it. Town, school, culture; all of it. I'm here for orientation right now and it's just great. Honestly, there's too much stuff for me to see and do still so I can't really focus on making this blog eloquent or even interesting. I'm going to grab something to eat. Later.

Here it comes...

My last day in high school is upon me. I'm excited about the future but there are people here that I'm truly going to miss and it is more than a slight pain to know that I'll never see a good number of them ever again. Friends I've had since I could walk, ones I've just recently grown close to, people I wish I knew better than I do; with a few exceptions, they will all pass out of my life. But I, too, will go away from them. They're leaving me as much as I'm leaving them.

I don't know whether that thought is comforting or not.


To all of you who know me, which I assume is most everyone reading this, I just want to let you know that I'm going to miss you.

For a while, at least. I can't make promises for any period of time after that.

I love this poem.

Kissing and Horrid Strife by D.H. Lawrence




I have been defeated and dragged down by pain
and worsted by the evil world-soul of today.

But still I know that life is for delight
and for bliss
as now when the tiny wavelets of the sea
tip the morning light on edge, and spill it with delight
to show how inexhaustible it is:

And life is for delight, and bliss
like now when the white sun kisses the sea
and plays with the wavelets like a panther playing with its cubs
cuffing them with soft paws,
and blows that are caresses,
kisses of the soft-balled paws, where the talons are.

And life is for dread,
for doom that darkens, and the Sunderers
that sunder us from each other,
that strip us and destroy us and break us down
as the tall foxgloves and the mulleins and mallows
are torn down by dismembering autumn
till not a vestige is left, and black winter has no trace
of any such flowers;
and yet the roots below the blackness are intact:
the Thunderers and the Sunderers have their term,
their limit, their thus far and no further.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife.
Life is for the angels and the Sunderers.
Life is for the daimons and the demons,
those that put honey on our lips, and those that put salt.
But life is not
for the dead vanity of knowing better, nor the blank
cold comfort of superiority, nor silly
conceit of being immune,
nor puerility of contradictions
like saying snow is black, or desire is evil.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife,
the angels and the Sunderers.
And perhaps in unknown Death we perhaps shall know
Oneness and poised immunity.
But why then should we die while we can live ?
And while we live
the kissing and communing cannot cease
nor yet the striving and the horrid strife.