So now I have a personal website. Does this make me a nerd? Does this mean I need to spend more time outside of the house? Do I cry myself to sleep at night? Yes on all accounts. But as evidenced by this new, sleek, photoshopped banner, I am also one bad mama jamma. This website is a chance for me to hone my html skills while also providing a platform for all of my latest projects. Unfortunately, most of these "projects" are just the combination of too little sleep, a G3 powerbook, and a fresh supply of Diet Lemon Pepsi Twist.
Storchie is a dead man.
Okay, so like I mentioned before, my friends from Baltimore visited me about two weeks ago. It was a great visit, and we all had a lot of fun. You know you have great friends when you can go a long time without seeing eachother, and fall instantly back into the swing of things. Anyway, my friend Adam (affectionately known as Storchie) brought some surprises for us to indulge in the night they arrived. As it turned out, his sister was stationed in Korea for the peace corp, and for his birthday, she sent him various foriegn delights. One of which, included the dreaded "Cuddlefish" treats. (The only words in English on the package) Adam insisted we all try them at the same time, so we formed a circle around the kitchen table, and nervously counted down from ten until the moment of truth, where all five of us downed the suckers as fast as humanly possible. Our worst fears were confirmed with a taste so bad, the burning sensation lingered in the pallette far after consumption. Now. You might be asking yourself, "Nick, what exactly is a Cuddlefish?" Well, I'll tell you.
Inside the hideous little ball lies a terrifying combination of squid paste and a single peanut. This is, of course, hidden inside the baked cracker sphere. I've looked at the strange red pigment on the outter shell, and still have no idea what it could be. At any rate, in my naiviety, I assumed Storch had thrown away the rest of the bag. I was sorely mistaken. The day after my friends had left my apartment, I began finding the little snacks hidden in various crevaces of my room. So far, I have found Cuddlefish inside a DVD case, my ceiling fan, dresser drawers, ice cube trays, posters on the wall, and in my shampoo. To put this into perspective, my cat has also helped me find at least five more Cuddlefish, and I have no idea where he could have found them. I just walked into my room, and there they were, grouped together neatly on my bed. If it weren't for the damn Kitty, I'd have roaches by now. And I still find those goddamn things occasionally. Ah, friends. Good to know I can show them a week of unbriddled merriment and not have to worry about a malicious attack on my way of life. Anyway, I just think it's funny how gross I think these things are. The people in Japan must love them. As the metallic bag boasts, they have been in business since 1976... Would they freak out if they found a "Cool Ranch Dorrito " on their pillow? Because to me, these freaks of nature might as wall be a friggin' horse head. Just call me Don Corleone. Now that the rant is over, I figure it's probably just best to go by an old adage. If you can't beat 'em, YATTA!
Mean, Green, and listens to "Queen."
So there is a lot of buzz about the upcoming "Hulk" movie. As a casual comic book fan over the years, sure I'm excited, but all of the coming attractions make him look like Shrek on steroids. It just wouldn't be as convincing when Eric Banna has to deliver the famous "Hulk Smash!" line with a computerized sidekick voiced by Eddie Murphy. I don't know. If I were given $100 million dollars to make a movie, I'd enlist the help of my personal hero, the other Hulk...Hulk Hogan! It would be loosely based on his 1980's business venture, the "Pastamania!" resteraunt chains. There would be lots of explosions, plenty of Hogan one liners, and a midwestern seafood pasta dish with fried calimari and a hint of lemon in a zesty white sauce. I promise a Hulkmania revival. Mark my words, brother!
Posers of the World Unite!
So a lot has happened recently, one of which has been my decision to completely transform my appearance from awkward, starving artist... To hip, indie rock star! Along with the sleek new addition of a soul patch, beanie, and glasses, Rivers Cuomo is subsequently shaking in his boots. Anyway, it's 4:38 a.m. and "Death to Smoochy" is on HBO. You'd think the man who brought us "Throw Mama from the Train" and the lovable scamp Louie De Palma from the hit television series Taxi could come up with better dribble than this. Danny DeVito, you kill me softly with your song. And to bring down my close personal friend Eddie Norton with you. For shame.
At the moment, I'm also struggling with captions. Dammit! This html code is driving me apeshit. I just want to put some clever captions under these pics, but I can't figure it out. How hilarious would it be, if under the "Wheaties" spoof, I put a line of smaller text reading "Part of your nutritious breakfast"? My wittiness is being compromised my my general ignorance of the internet. DAMN YOU INTERNET! What a fickle mistress! It's hard to comprehend the fact that my greatest source for information and naked celebrity puctures is also my downfall. Oh, cruel Irony...I guess I will just have to read up on it in between games of shockwave billiards at Candystand.com. Before I leave, I just want everyone to know, that despite what everyone may say, new Sprite remix is an excellent new soft drink. If you are into that kind of stuff.
So get this. I got a traffic ticket last week. While taking my Baltimore friends to Panama city, I got caught going 73 in a 60 on highway 10! Where everyone in the known world goes at least 80 mph. It was a crisp, sunny day, and he could have gotten anybody. And he did. Anyway, it was the first time I had ever even been pulled over for anything, and this guy had it in his head there was absolutely no way I was getting out of this ticket. Despite my sparkling four year driving record. So, this cop comes to my window, and asks for my liscense and registration. As I reach for them, I notice how ridiculously accurate every movie has ever been while depicting the highway patrol. He had the hat, the fake aviators, and a steadfast expression that only hinted at a smile as he looked in on me. For a second, his gait back to his car resembled that of a predatory cat. Delivering the ticket, he made sure to compliment me on my Jeep, noticing that his Jeep "wasn't as fully loaded on the inside." Well, thank you Deputy, for your compliment. My $133.00 ticket hardly leaves a sting now! The fact that I will be eating Totino's crisp crust individual pizzas for the next two and half months doesn't even factor into equation. Thanks for your kindness!
