The blog entry 45 minutes later
Or an hour and 45 minutes. Or whatever. She's 17. And she was the Princesses (Natalie Portman) "double" in Star Wars.
What is age anyway? Merely a number... and perhaps a law or two...

The blog entry now
I can't love. I only want a fantasized, romanticized version of a woman. What's wrong with me? When will I grow up? (I'm still smiling about Kiera.)

The blog entry 45 minutes ago
I just saw "Bend it like Beckham." It's a movie about sports; girls playing sports, British girls playing sports. Um. How do I put this: I'm in heaven. We're talking accents, soccer balls, and cute cute girls. Even if you scrapped the plot, the humor (both not bad), the interesting side stories AND the light way of dealing with some bigger issues, I think I'd still be on cloud 9. In case you were wondering, my new favorite actress and current crush: Kiera Knightley. I don't even know if I spelled that right, but I promise to make it up to her.

T&A
I'm not on Spring Break. The "real world" doesn't have Spring Break. So I watch MTV's Spring Break. I'm not old enough for Spring Break. It's snowing here.

It'd be cuter if it was figurative
I watched the Friday night launch of Ed. It had me digging at my heart with an Oreo brand ice cream scoop. It's not important why I had the scoop out. The only important thing is that Ed is back. And it kills me. I owe the writers of the show an apology. They're back. I don't think it will last, but at least they pulled themselves up for a time. I thank them for a glimpse into that past of Ed greatness. I don't care if it's fiction; it got me and I miss the Ed crowd.
Good night.
One parting thought: Carol Vescey should not say S.O.B. It doesn't suit her.

Say what?
Sometimes I feel like books choose me. I'm in the middle of two books right now, "Dharma bums" and "Closing Time". I almost never get into the middle of two books. I just can't seem to finish either one. One day I'm wandering around smoking weed and making up poetry and the next I'm talking nonsense, reliving my war days and dying of cancer. And someone has to take responsibility for choosing these works. It's not me.
I'm tempted to consume a fruity alcholic drink and watch TV until I fall asleep, perhaps with my shirt unbuttoned and one sock part way off.

It'll all come out in the wash
*People who say things just to get a rise should be forgiven.
*There are now 3 Saturns in my family and 2 in the driveway.
*Jack Keroauc makes me want to wander.
*People who miss Ultimate games to play Ultimate games should ultimately be forgiven.
*For Doug's sake, if I were Chris I would take Clare and Kate out to dinner and avoid an ugly scene.
*My new favorite word: "Ridiculous"

It's like we're family.
Today I met a guy who is going to join the MUtants and be a J-Scholar next fall. This spring I'll be playing Ultimate with him on Sundays. Kinda neat.
I also met two sisters who I don't believe are sisters. They look nothing alike.

War makes me nauseated
go tigers.

One day, but not today
*I won't be able to show up on Catholic University campuses and play Ultimate.
*I won't be able to bum meals from college students "21" meal plans.
*I'll have to do my taxes.
*Residence Hall food will not taste so gosh darn good.
That day actually happened long ago, but then I forgot and now I'm pretending it never happened.

This one goes out to Ryann Castle
You know all those cool people you meet in college and you swear up and down that your high school didn't have cool people like this? Well Ryann Castle was cool people and she went to my high school. I was just retarded by high school mentality and only got a glimpse. I bet there were lots of others like Ryann.
Silly kids.

Me and my reaction to change
I just pretend it isn't happening until it is. Then I figure out what to do. Sometimes I should figure it out sooner so I can enjoy the transition.

At least he's a nice guy
This weekend I picked up the nicknames "Snatch" and "4play". The things going through your mind are likely far more exciting than the real stories. I kind of hope those don't stick. The title of today's post was overheard as we were lining up to pull during Sunday's Ultimate game. I heard that from across the field and I had the distinct impression that it was referring to me. What do you think was said beforehand?

It's not easy being green. Or so I've been told
Dang it! My laundry is still in the washer. Tomorrow, if things get clean, I'm wearing my green pants and my green dress shirt. I don't care if they match. Nobody is pinching me. Well... maybe not "nobody".

If I remember right my mom used to make something special on St. Paddy's day. Corned beef? I don't know. I also seem to remember Lisa calling me Patty O'Furniture at about this time sophomore year. She thought it was really funny. At first it was.
Happy St. Patrick's Day. Kiss me! I know people that are Irish.

The stunning pace at which they grow up
My sister's Tuesday consisted of her '94 Saturn breaking down. So she came home with a nice '03 Ion. Pretty exciting.
My sister's Wednesday consisted of her boyfriend coming to town. So she came home with a fiance. Holy Toledo.

Perhaps my good looks have taken me as far as they can
I didn't realize how incredibly awkward I could be until this very evening. I'm not that awkward when I'm alone, but put me at a table with an old college chum (am I old enough to have an old college chum yet?) and let the awkwardness begin. Granted, not everyone gets to see this side of me, but tonight two lucky ladies did. Count 'em, two. Not just the old college chum, but the friend of another chum as well. Awkwardness just dripping from every orifice. Not pretty. And yet part of me wonders if either noticed. Maybe awkwardness has the same sort of blinding quality as beauty.
Yea. That'll let me sleep tonight.

Usurp Palindrome
I spent portions of both Friday and Saturday nights conceptualizing mixes. Friday was a mix for a 20-something on her birthday. Tonight required the help of two monkey lovers, Matt and Rob. A mix of songs with "Monkey" in the title tentatively called "Go Bananas". We'll see if either mix gets made. Now I pose a question to my male readers and those of you who know males: Do the males you know like monkeys? I mean "like-like" monkeys.

The leader of the free world conundrum
In 6th grade I wanted to be president. Ask Eric "Pistil-Stamen" Larson if you don't believe me. What was I thinking? I watched Bush up there tonight and that looks like a sucky job. Then again, maybe he makes it look sucky. Whenever I watch him I think, "he would've made such a fine baseball commissioner, why is he running a country?"
Saddam as menacing comic book villian or not, I still say war is bad. I'm with the hippies who think that going to war isn't the route to peace. Tonight it doesn't feel that simple. Do I live in a bubble? Does W have my best interests at heart? I doubt it. I almost wonder if he's trying to pick a fight because that's the one area he knows he can come out on top. Can't win any where else? Beat up on other countries. Still, I don't want his job.

The elevator conundrum
It is established in elevator etiquette that the women exit first. (I believe this is in case the elevator is about to break free of its cables.) So, here's the problem: I got on the elevator and two women were already on. They therefore had occupied the back corners. (The back corners are the most comfortable spot in the elevator.) With so much open front space, I couldn't squeeze between them and crowd the back wall. That would be rude. BUT, when we all reached our final destination etiquette dictates that they had to exit before me. I saw two choices: Buck etiquette and sprint like hell or at the last possible moment shrink back to the back wall. I opted for the second choice. Utterly ridiculous and yet somehow I feel that it was appreciated. Proposed soluton: Stairs.

M.O.?
My life has more bells and whistles. This week might have to be traded.

Feeling gypped
Avril, but you won't get much out of it. The more I uncover the less I like. Even though the writing/band/lyrics circumstances are fuzzy, I still enjoy the music. And hey, her bandmates have her listening to the Pixies.

Mr. Grumpy grumbles
I have absolutely no good reason to be grumpy. Yet, here I am. Grumpy. Here's some possible-but-not-good reasons:
1. I can only turn my head 86 degrees to the left.
2. The ground was wet, slippery and hard at my game of Ultimate.
3. Safeway receipts have become more complicated than tax forms.
4. The going to bed after the 3 and waking up before the 10.
5. The sinking feeling that it is once again time to "get my act together."
6. Your mom.

Monkey gone to Heaven?
The plan (before I read Justin's comment incidentally): Listen to Doolittle by the Pixies and read Closing Time by Joseph Heller.
The outcome of the evening: A very long discussion on whether or not to have children and why. I'm calling myself a confrimed 5th wheel these days and I love the other wheels. La la love.
FYI: I'm more convinced than ever--
that I want kids.
that this move was a good one.
that I need to make some bachelor friends.
that Fred Rogers rocked.