THeir honeymoon isn't until october or december.... But, I'm not sure I can beat up zach for you brian. Fact is, I like him.

I hate you.

YEAH!

Bah, who needs to be cool. I've got a badge and cash.

Anyway, since everyone on Tragedy has already wished Will a happy birthday, its about time I did:

A happy birthday shout out to my main man Will.

Now that I've stopped sobbing. . .
Wow, Blogging. How retro, how June 2003. Despite anything I may have said before, Brian is truly and undeniably stinky- too bad blogs are dead, or the whole world would know it.

Down is the new Up
Maturity, pheph! They say that 30 is the new 20, and while I don’t usually go in for the "blank" is the new "blank" blah blah bullshit talk, it is true that (for the most part) we're in much different places than our parents were at our ages. With people staying in school longer, with job promotion/ security slowed by a market clogged with the Baby Boom generation, and other "maturity" delaying factors, do we really have any choice but to sit in our apartments surrounded by the toys we love and will for ever be paying off (rather than the kids, cars, spouses, houses, etc. of our parent's generation)? I can’t imagine having a husband, two kids and a mortgage and my age like my mom did- that's true for most people my age that I know. I don’t know that my mother could have ever pictured herself at 27 as me either. Where am I going with this? I don’t really know- I'm just bored, at lunch and trying to confirm my true geekdom by engaging in a dead format (Brian). I'm glad blogs are dead, it was really getting tiring hand illuminating my rants on vellum.

Anyway, Zach and Jessie’s reception was really beautiful and a great time. Congratulations to the BiancoSmith’s.

Brian, I know what you mean. I'm thinking about how old a lot of our parents were when they got married and comparing that to the folks I know who are about the same age. Like, say, Zachary. Weirdness, to say the least.

It's just time that we accept that maturity is not a factor of marriage, I guess.

Now that's blogging is dead, we should do it all the time. It'll be retro. We'll be cool! Well, not Marty.

When the blog is dying, we have only one option:

Blame Brian.

I'm going to the wedding.

Is this blog dead? Where is everyone?

At the frame shop I worked at in Chicago, the manager and the framing tech. would drink beer and watch the Simpsons in the back room in the evenings (to be fair, we had very little business between 7-9: that's two very long hours of doing nothing). They let me in on the secret after I gave notice, and so I too once spent and evening downing Red Stripe and watching 'toons. Not nearly as heinous as Marty's co-workers, but definitely a firable offense (except for goody-two-shoes me, who never knew what was going on behind my back for the longest time). Will has some horrific stories of Starbucks co-workers, but I don’t think he wants to relive them.

I have a few co-workers who date their clients moms, buy and selll their clients weed and seem to think that playing raquetball is an appropriate way to spend a day in the field.

I also have judges who seem to think that its normal for 15 year old boys to fondle....younger kids.

Oh, and I ahve more than a few born again christians who seem to think that the "Left Behind" series of (C)rapture novels are as good as the Word of God.

Which is, of course, Word.


How's that Brian? I didn't make up one goddamn thing.

good night you bastards.

Brian, I have a co-worker who brought dog jerky to work a few weeks ago. Dog. Jerky made from a dog, Brian. How's that?

Yeah, I made it up!

George Washington, eh? That's pretty cool. See if he'll sign a dollar for you. Then we'll go to Where's George and tell them, "He's in the lobby."

I am both anxious and terrified to tackle Marty's father's biography. That would make me a biographer, which is a whole other noun for me to handle. Yowzah. Anyway, that's something Mart and I will need to talk about before I have the slightest idea what's really going to happen with it. I pretty much don't want to do the book unless it's going to be suitable for the marketplace. That is, I want people to read it and I know that there's a story there worth the price of a book. I don't want to do it as some cheesy little thing when it could be something real and special.

There's a guy dressed like George Washington upstairs, greeting people. It's creaping me out.