although I haven't yet gone to sleep and thus the day hasn't changed, this would according to cold hard math appear to be the day of my fourth (wow...) display of comedic verve with the rest of Potted Meat. this is an abbreviated show, since we're performing with other people; a little over half of our normal length. pretty good material for the show. I wrote my usual "if this fails, it's going to fail hard, but if it works..." sketch gambit. that's the way I roll. come see. or, alternatively, sit around at some guy's house, watch movies and drink liquor that some other guy bought for you. supposedly that's pretty cool to do too. I wouldn't know. I'm pretty lame like that. I don't have any cool hangovers to show for my time, just performances and words. sucks to be me.

fun things to see and do on this website: a couple new entries on the critics page. see the entries that people left in my "guestbook" before the media exposure garnered from their appearance on my page launched them to superstardom. then toss the dice and leave your own! or, alternatively, sit around at some guy's...oh, wait, I did that bit already. also check out the links page - freshly cleaned up and recalibrated, with a few brand new links to boot. of particular notice to connossieurs should be the Toshi Station, a blindingly hilarious example of how to take obsession (in this case, with Star Wars) in GOOD directions (as opposed to, say, criticizing members of your peer group for misplaced prepositions in their renditions of Monty Python songs). of extra special interest to anyone who likes this here page at all should be Not Elvis's page - gobsmackingly brilliant, of the same "AVANT-GARDE as FUCK!" anti-whitey philosophy as mine and one of the most original pages on the web. damn good stuff. (I make an appearance in the "I hate not elvis" section - I don't hate not elvis, of course. it has to do with the Gigantic Hawaiian Guy's Head, aka Manuel Pampo, who also appears on my critics page, affair.)

I've been thinking a lot about getting cats lately. I want at least two. life would be pretty much perfect if I had some cats around. cats would be much better than, say, Chuck. sure, they both walk around without shirts a whole lot more than they ought to, but it's OK when a cat does it. they have an excuse. and cats aren't as hopelessly "SCREWED!" as Chuck is, so they don't feel compelled to tell you about it daily. and when a cat does have a problem, you have a better chance of understandingwhy they're screwed, unlike Chuck, who will be the first to tell you that you have no idea and are incapable of understanding how screwed he is. also, cats don't take silly majors like "material science". they're much more dignified than that. hey, everybody, send me your reasons why cats are better than Chuck. whee. stick it to him!

raves:
take-home exams, Green Giant veggie burgers, the long-awaited return of my jar of cheez-wiz from seth bender's clutches.
distastes:
erratic sleep patterns, the sexual organs of every single person in Washington DC, disciplinary policies for tardiness.