couriernew

Today a guy stopped me on the sidewalk and started giving me this sales pitch about how Kimberly Clark is destroying some ancient rain forest. He was wearing a Greenpeace shirt and had a long pony tail and a three-day beard. Hippie, but not committed.

He drags me into his pitch and then says that I need to become a member.

I decline.

"Don't you...
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I decided that I need more lady friends who can accept gifts.

Every time a band gives me a shirt, they usually give me one more for "a friend" it is always a lady shirt, and it is always cooler than the shirt that I am mean to wear.

Finally back in Colorado. Just had an interesting, spontaneous adventure of Almost Famous magnitude. Watched Mike McColgan punch a guy out over a piece of Lemon Cake, and then overheard Aaron Barret go through a list of potential baby names.

Catering at the Warped Tour, what the hell?

My first plane ride, ever, was ridiculously terrifying. Nothing but storms from Oakland to here. This means...
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When you think about it, a plane is just a bus that could fall out of the sky.

It fails to rain for nearly two weeks. Then, on the one day I don't have my car. . .

I guess the saying goes: "When it rains, it pours." No kidding.

Although, bike riding through mud puddles after a day at the office = general awesomeness.

Not that many of you know what I'm talking about, but here it is:

How can I have written so much and feel like I've gone absolutely nowhere?

The magazine - what a drain. Fun, insightful and a prospective career move. But really, Jesus.

A two hundred page novel isn't very long, I could read it in about a day and a half. But to...
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365 Days. There is so much to be done!

The only thing I actually wanted for my birthday was to see The Exies when they came through town next week.

But, for whatever reason, someone couldn't keep their nose clean and now they aren't on the tour anymore.


Which means they aren't coming to Denver next week.

Which means this week can really stop blowing ass any time now.

I don't know where to blog anymore.

A few weeks ago my myspace account was deleted. As to the how or the why, I haven't a clue. Maybe next time I will just solicit sex to fewer people. Not to worry, within a few hours my roommate, with nothing better to do, decided that she was going to make me a new one. The new...
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I love women named Marie Calendar. I love everything about her. Except the 60 to 65 minute cook time on her delicious chicken pot pie.

Food that takes that long to cook shouldn't smell so good after twenty minutes in the oven.