NOTES FOR A FRIDAY MORNING
1. I don’t care how cute your ass is or what kind of neat tricks you can do with it: no self-respecting English-speaking homo is gonna nail you if you haven’t bothered to spellcheck your allegedly badass blackletter back tattoo:
Can you make that out, folks? “End Racesm.” That’s what it says. In fact, that’s what it says forever.
Now, I could give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Taking into account the giant fan on his wall, I could assume he’s really Japanese–and since so many yankees are apparently wandering around with misspelled Japanese tattoos, I guess a reversal would be fair. Or I could assume that he really hates road racing (whatever that is). But I’m not the generous sort–today or any day–so I’m just gonna assume he’s an idiot.
2. I know I said just the other day that I was all about Oblivion, but now I have two new, even better distractions: a videogame about Emily Dickinson (?!?), and Viva Piñata, a game in which, as my dear friend Jason says, “You play a piñata that can hunt and raise piñatas to create–guess what?–more piñatas.”
3. Who knew that our new housemate had a blog? Furthermore, who knew that he was involved with Common Ground, one of the many grassroots groups in town to take part in the rebuilding of New Orleans? He seems like he’s dealing with their respectable element–the healthcare side. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get involved with the subgroup protesting the partial closure of St. Augustine Church, ’cause most of those children–correction, out-of-town children–ought to be walloped into the middle of next week. And not in the good way.
sturtle [dot] com 