Really, there could be a healthy initiative here, but the execution simply makes for a contrived performance... "Look at me, I'm a mysterious and interesting twenty-something and I still like WINNIE THE POOH! ahem, by the way uhhh violence...uhh children? No, rape and women and breasts...no...uhhh...cancer..." I just want to see the doppelgangers thing come back...again, a more honest endeavor and far less damaging, really. Or better yet! Why don't you all post pictures of yourselves self-fellating?

RAWR!

College. If you can make it through without overexposing yourself or displaying your contrived fucking existence....rattling pedantic about your causes, your art,  your stupid fucking theater productions (seriously, Equus sucks...everything about it, not that I expect better here) then I'll buy you a beer, and it won't be PBR, and it won't be a tasty microbrew. I will buy you a sixer of Mickey's grenades and we can read Moby Dick together. My hypos has the best of me, and I'm ready to go to sea.

In response to the SafeMinds.org ad campaign, as shown in AMC Theaters:



It's all about data. Something Fox News and the good people at SafeMinds.org appear more than willing to forego for the sake of presenting an apocalyptic narrative of our countries dealings. To what end? I'm not sure, but it all plays in to rich white guys securing their interests, somehow.

365 Days

A friend of mine approached me regarding a certain New Year's resolution. It comes from the human obsession of legacy making, and I've jumped on it simply because I feel like I need a bit more discipline. 365 days, 365 bits of expression. This has to go beyond journaling, otherwise the project is indistinguishable from my regular blogging. Fuck that. I was thinking about drinking a beer a day, and writing a simple review, or maybe selecting a song from an obscure 80's post-rock album and writing a critique, which would be cool because I don't know dick about music and if there aren't any lyrics to focus on, I may have fun struggling to define my own nebulous concept of what's good and bad with pure instrumentation. At the end of the day, it's really all about telling somebody why I like something, or why I think it's filth. More later!

Today I went to my favorite breakfast-gettin' place in Flagstaff. Bellavia. They have the best damn eggs benedict I've ever had.   A toasted bagel topped with salmon cream cheese, topped with eggs, topped with hollandaise. I still don't know what hollandaise sauce is but that may be a result of willful ignorance. The point is, these eggs were fantastic. Inspirational. Transcendental. I'm not trying to sensationalize something so trivial, but my day was off to great start. I mean really, it was. I had a good swim work out an our before, and in the time succeeding I'd written an insulting, consequently alienating email to my biology lab instructor. Addressing the latter, I missed lab last week and I didn't like that my instructor barred me from making up missed work. I tried to convince her that she was wrong to deny me, and in so doing I believe I may have shown my assholish colors. She hasn't issued a rebut yet, but I presume it will be in the form of an apology, and she will probably award me full credit for missed work. Or more than likely, I will receive no response and I will only have managed to piss off another person in the biology department, ultimately securing myself a grade of 'Fuck.' 

GETYERBLOGON

This is my first attempt at blogging on a consistent basis. I don't know how well maintained this thing will be, as I am working on a Biomedical Science degree and I don't have a lot of time set aside to jot down sparkling witticisms and scathing pop culture commentary, but I will do my best. The title of this blog is indicative of my inability to comment on virtually anything if I'm not under the influence. Maybe it's because of some lingering, juvenile insecurity... the fear that anything I produce and put out there will be scrutinized and obliterated. I guess its time to grow up. This blog is a step towards self-actualization. I'm pretty sure that Maslow's hierarchical theory of needs requires another level, above sexual intimacy and below self-esteem, requiring the establishment of a blog. That being said, Jameson is on sale at Safeway this week, and that's the ticket to lubricated diatribes. Blog city, here I come.