i really need you guys to jump

We watched Rock Star: Supernova this evening. Many of the performers really needed the people in the audience to jump. They said it a lot.

I need you guys to jump!

Okay, now I really need you guys to jump!

Now I'm going to need you guys to jump!

You know what, would-be rock stars? I think you didn't really need everybody to jump. I think it was a preference that the people jump. You guys ought to be careful with that. You will be the rock stars who cried wolf. What if one day you truly need us guys to jump? What if you're stuck in a tree? Or what if it doesn't work out as rock stars and you become firefighters and we're all in a burning building and you're holding out something soft for us to land on and if we don't jump we will be obliterated by the flames in the room behind us? You didn't think of that, rock stars. You didn't need us to jump tonight. You just would have liked us to jump.

Also, rock stars, if you are performing and you SUCK, our jumping cannot help you - particularly jumping that you guilt us into. That kind of jumping is meaningless, rock stars. It's pity jumping. If the people spontaneously jump, though, bully for you.

foxy guys and classy chicks, we're the class of '86

I just found out that my twenty-year high school reunion is happening in a couple of weeks. OH MY GOD. I think I'm going to go.

The timing is fucking TUBULAR, as we happen to be living with my mom. That is exactly how I always imagined rolling into my twentieth. Look. I was not voted most likely to succeed. I was the class clown. And it's because of rats! Not because of failure! But that, too, is so awesome. Yeah, we have a house around the corner from here, but we're not living there because it's infested with rats. So we're living with my mom. Hey, where are you going? I am going to walk into this reunion with my Good Listener hat firmly the freak on. No, no, enough about me. I am so interested in YOU.

Also, baby weight. But who was I kidding anyway? I would have been telling people it was baby weight at my fifteenth.

What the hell am I going to wear? Do you guys like this shirt*?



Oh, my god, I'm running my outfit by the internet. That is hilarious. I'm going to start doing this every day. Do you guys think I should wear these sweatpants or these sweatpants?

*I wouldn't be wearing that little white camisole under that shirt. And I'd wear a little black jacket with it, maybe. Some trousers. Some boots. Oh my god. I don't know. I don't know.

the rabbit is out of the hat

He's done it! Dave has begun a poetry blog!



Dave's imagination is a fantastical land. I love that he's gotten so passionate about poetry. He throws himself into whatever he does: poetry, poker, surfing, whatever it is. He eats it up, dives to the bottom of it. So smart. Such a beauty. I'm going to marry him again when he's not looking.

Go and look at hatrabbit.

Love,
Mrs. Newblog of the Seattle Newblogs

bloomerang

I started a new blog. You can look at it if you like. But only look at it if you're going to like it! Don't look at it if you're not going to like it! Aah!

I'll still be keeping this blog. Oh, the Gallivanting Monkey will go on like always. This blog is like my HOUSE that I live in.

But the other blog is a blog I started to galvanize myself to do things that I really want to do with my life. The other blog is the blog I started in the hopes that I will have less to tear my hair out over on my deathbed. It is the blog wherein I will be holding myself accountable.

Aah! I'm shy! But I'm not shy! I told you about it! Go look! No, don't! Aah!