So, for a week or so, I've been meaning to write some lame stuff that I think is interesting here, but I've been too busy wasting my free time on Friendster. And guess what... I still need to balance my checkbook! The artist formerly known as the "Hot Russian Woman At Work" has been discovered to not be Russian at all! It turns out that Barbara is from Italy, but her family was only there for two generations, and are actually gypsies (she used the word herself, instead of the more politically correct "Roma," prompting me to further believe that being PC is bullshit. I've been known to be a cheap Jew in my time. Although I still think it is horrible to call an Inuit an Eskimo, because of the meaning of the word, which I cannot remember right now, but which I think has something to do with being an eater of blubber). Related to that, a new acquaintance of mine told me that she jokes that she is a Spike -- because, like Juan Epstein, she is a Puerto Rican Jew. That had me in stitches. Okay. It's 9:45am. Time for bed. I guess I kind of hope I get that 8am-4pm Monday through Friday job that is open. I've got a better shot at getting that than I do of getting the 10am-10pm caching position that isn't officially open yet, although I did start caching over at MTV2 last night. I had to cache the VJ segments for the Top 20 Countdown, hosted by some chach named Jesse Blaze who was wearing a PVC shirt. When I was cueing the tape to record to the computer, I made him look like he was touching himself and rubbing. I think I was enjoyin it wayyy too much. I just really wanted to make a slingshot out of his shirt and have him fly into a wall face first. It made me think of Steve Buscemi's character Seymour in "Ghost World" when Enid turns on the radio in his car, and he reacts to it as this totally obnoxious, in-your-face, hostile bullshit. I felt much like that. Maybe I'm just an old man. I don't know. I've been listening to the two depressing mix cds my brother made a couple days ago. Right now, is the acoustic version of "Driveway To Driveway" by Superchunk. And the names were all we knew. And the names were all erased. This song, even though I had but one night of drunken makeout sessions in my life, it still touches me in the saddest way. I just want to write a song that makes me feel as much as that song.