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archives push me to post webmail :: xenii mail the hive :: for trading and raiding polymorph :: a cosmographia universalis chrisnelson.ca :: chiefwagonburner has a blog fortune cookie distro :: x's distro
jeffron: Well, the grass is always greener. I think the ultimate song for creating a mood of nostalgia for a place you've never even been is Brazil. Not just any Brazil, but particularly the one that was in the film by Terry Gilliam. Brazil 1 Brazil 2 I spent a few years looking for these versions. I couldn't find the soundtrack anywhere, but I found these mp3's.
jimmy Well, the grass is always greener. I really wanted a calendar. Maybe I could trade with Pinky something from my pile o' loot, which consists of: post-it notes, 1 package sweatshirt, brown coffee, 1 pound socks, 3 pair shoe polish, black, 1 can 1 package, 10 candy bars 1 dish towel 50 pages cream-colored stationary, with matching envelopes 1 toaster 1 pair "toaster tongs" 1 tin, Danish cookies 1 soap holder 1 paperback book, The Power Of The Dog, by Thomas Savage My brother also gave me a $50 amazon gift certificate, which I promptly spent on: 1 electric razor 10 minidiscs You know you are getting old when you're excited about shoe polish. We got 22 inches of snow here Christmas night. Brr. I am going to see LOTR again. Will report on the repeat viewing experience.
jeffron x Yeah, where is that red tent when you need it, anyway? :)
Anna I wish everyone a fulfilling new year, and much grace in the hunt for fond memories.  Something wonderful is about to happen to xenius dot org. After a short conversation with our host's technical support, something is in the making. ___________________________________________________________ This was a nice christmas, but I've been completely cranky and so has everyone around me for the most part. I called up Pinky. She answered the phone angrily. I asked her what was up, and she grumpily explained that this was her worst christmas ever; "I got one gift and no phone calls!". "Oh? What was your gift?" "A calendar", she said dryly. I told her to hang her calendar up, and on the box marked "December 25th, 2002" write: "WORST CHRISTMAS EVER". To be honest, I never liked christmas anyway. All the fucking commercials sink into my skin, sucking the life out of me until I find myself mindlessly humming hopelessly altered jingles for used car lots and reciting Panasonic ryhmes. I love hanging out with my family and friends, and I love food and I LOVE christmas music. Nat Cole for me! Frank Sinatra. The Chipmunks! However, as soon that television or radio turns on, or as soon as I have to claw my way through a line at the mall, I am completely, utterly and without a glimmer of hope, GRINCHIFIED. ____________________________________________________________ My mother was freaking out too. Her, my brother and I went to go see LOTR together. In the theater my mother, who for some reason was extremely on edge but enjoying the Lord of the Rings (it was my third time), built up a lot of frustration about the fact that the gentleman half of a loud couple behind us kept putting his feet on our chairs and it would rock the entire section of seats. Finally she blew up. "Would you quit kicking the fucking seats!" I responded in less than half a second... "Mom!" Apparently while I was in the restroom she had tried politely, but it didn't work. The gentleman kept doing it again and again. My brother, playing Switzerland through this whole thing, asked me to do something about it. My heart filled up with the burden of being older brother, and I leaned over and caught the gentleman's attention. "Would you please stop kicking the seats? It's disturbing my mother." Somehow I felt like Norman Bates. "Who's kicking the seat?" he asked in mock innocence. "Oh really?" was all I said back, all politeness turning dim now. I'll let my mom have him just once, I thought. Finally my mother blew up again. She has a Trinidadian accent and so "asshole" becomes "ass holed". Anyway, the f-word was in there too. Less than a microsecond after her blow up came mine. "MOM! PLEASE!" This is in the middle of a crowded theater on christmas eve. That wasn't enough for mom though. She kept her anger level precisely at boiling point and made sure to call them assholes over and over again to their faces as the audience was leaving the theater and the lights were on. Then she saw the feminine half of the couple in the bathroom and caller her an asshole. On the way out I saw the couple speaking to the management in that whiney "but we're so pure and innocent" way, and I took it upon myself to walk over and shoot them down before we looked too much like the bad guys (though in a sense we were, ugh). I began by apologizing for my mother harrassing them and explained that we had made several attempts to get them to stop kicking the seats and they claimed not to know what was happening. I also explained that my mother's blow-ups occurred precisely after the moment the gentleman would place his feet on our seats and any moron could have made the connection; I didn't use those words though, and I was completely sincere. I managed to sound contrite, apologetic, and somehow completely above them. The manager was relieved, sinking into Switzerland behavior like my brother, saying only, "well there you go!". I walked away and then spent the car ride home freaking out on my mom, who claimed she was "pms'ing". I think that was supposed to relieve her from culpability. I insulted the Swiss and now here it comes for women as well: It's really no wonder certain tribes people think women are possessed once per month, and still others maintain damage control by banishing premenstrual women from the village altogether. I'll duck away quietly now, waiting to be pelted with stones. Grumpily, jimmy
jimmy 
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