One thing I do like about Canada is how people inadvertently refer to me as “The American” . This makes me feel like the main character in a Hemingway novel.
Tonight as we were having our tickets checked for the Disco Biscuits and Moe show, Susannah and I inadvertently got ahead of Danny in line. We got into the venue (field) and were about to go find a nice place to jam when we realized that he wasn’t behind us any longer. After about four seconds of confusion, we saw him: several people back, getting his ticket scanned. He too looked confused. Incompetent fool. We went back, and when I saw that he had seen us, I bellowed: “I saw you… with a ticket stub in your hand!”
This is witty because it’s a line from a Phish song. He told me to shut up.
So the hippies were dancin’ and twirlin’ and we were back reclining like old people in the grass when we heard a new member join the clan behind us.
“Man! You found us!”
“Yeah, I saw you… with a ticket stub in your hand!”
“Shut up.”
If I owned a Wookiee costume, I would go to Mars and scare the crap out of NASA.
I’m coming back, my friends
From the deep and bitter end
Where I was so concerned
That we would be the ones who burned
The more scared, the safer
The more grateful for the grape juice
And the wafer
I sound done
And I feel done
But I’m not done
Unless he’d give up on a lost son
I need to hear him say
You and your friends can come in
Your thoughts and that girl can come in
Your parents and brothers are here
I let them in
Who told you I wouldn’t let you all in?
You are my children
Heaven shine through the stars
The city lights and the nearest bar
Where I’ll be with my friends
Hiding from the bitter end
The armor and the weapons
Were a strange way to show them my affection
I sound done
And I feel done
But I’m not done
Unless you’d give up on a lost son
My proposed explanation for Colony Collapse Disorder is directly linked to the absurd population growth that has been overwhelming the United States in recent years. More people means more housing, and more housing means more windows. Windows, to a bee, make no sense, and many bees die with pane because they can never find a way back to the outside world that they can so clearly see yet never quite get back to. Ergo, windows kill bees.
I entered the kitchen this morning to find a huge bumble bee angstily trying to break free from this house via a large picture window. I gave him a couple of hours to use his fine wit and bee instinct to solve his dilemma, but time only frustrated him more. By noon, he lay dejected on the sill, occasionally grumbling by way of buzz and flailing his limbs helplessly. Our agrarian culture! Pollination! Honey in my tea! The ever pressing threat of Colony Collapse Disorder! I can’t allow this bee to die! I then resolved to save him.
What I failed to recall is that after The Toronto Incident several years ago, now, I am subliminally terrified of bees. I can resolve in my mind to save a bee, but once I actually get near the beast, flashbacks of that insignificant pinch, a week long swollen arm, and antibiotics that, oh so ironically, ultimately caused me to break out in hives return to consciousness. Somehow, I am afraid of this mild mannered little pollinator, covered in soft fur and smaller than my thumb! My tank top left my arms so vulnerable. Regardless, fear is for pansies. I caught him between a cup and a plate, and he let out as close to a yelp as a bee can. He flew circularly within the cup madly, madly, captive and without hope… I freed him by a thriving azalea bush. How sweet it is.
On a vaguely related note, I am pissed that Haagen Daz is now masquerading as purveyors of justice to the problem of Colony Collapse Disorder. Apparently pretending to save the environment is the marketing scheme du jour. Firstly, no one really know for sure what causes Colony Collapse Disorder (let alone how to solve it). Secondly, I hate Haagen Daz for being so ineffably rude to Ben & Jerry’s back in the day. Seriously, what expletives. Who’s afraid of the Pillsbury Dough Boy? Not I.
Don’t do whatever Haagen Daz wants you to do to “save the bees”. Just free them when they’re stuck in windows. That is all I ask.
I think my doctor is overtly fond of The Verve, because the drugs she gave me for migraines don’t work. Consequently, I’ve been dying of headache since yesterday.
No matter what happens, I need a car by the 29th. April 29th, this year, is a significant holiday known as “Ben & Jerry’s Free Cone Day”.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: richmond is quite the happenin' music scene nowadays
PHIL LESH IS COMING TO INNSBROOK
FOR $15
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: abject woe, headache, insincerity, schoo', weddings
• My father’s college roommate and my college roommate are getting married within a few months of one another.
• I am in the same house as my brother, talking to him on AIM. I just said something humorous, and he responded with “haahaha”. In reality, he did not laugh. Such insincerity.
• I have a mee-graine and I’ve fed it all sorts of drugs and still it won’t leave me in peace. I ought to resort to all sorts of probably irrelevant holistic approaches, like “color therapy”.
• And a bad case of the hiccups.
• “Country Death Song” reminds me of Hollister.
• Life would currently be better had I not wrecked my car.
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Golly.
I am wearing a Campus Crew shirt. So 2007.
I cited a Gang of Four song in a research paper, today. It was apt, too. This is noteworthy because I was not previously aware that there was a way to cite songs in MLA. But then again, why wouldn’t there be?
Also, I have constructed a bracelet entirely out of size stickers. It is uncomfortable and unaesthetic.
Life has been dismal, but I do not wish to be one who blogs about the dismality of life.
