The Aerosmith/Skid Row concert ROCKED!!!!!

Actual Things Written By My Classmates In My Sophomore Yearbook, the 1990 Crag, In Which I Sometimes Do but Mostly Don't Remember What the Fuck They're Talking About:
[Part II of a series]

I hope you’ll remember all we’ve done – yearbook chaos, San Antonio (remember the towel!) [I do not, sorry to say], U.I.L. tension …
--girl who ended up marrying a guy I call “Cutty” because he passed out in a lawn chair in the pouring rain one night in the back yard at my brother’s place in Austin, cradling a large nearly empty bottle of Cutty Sark

Never forget the SPIRAL STAIRCASE.
[accompanied by drawing of our math teacher’s hand, index finger extended, describing a circle in the air to illustrate how “math is a spiral staircase”]
--future member of the Dirty Dozen

The louder you are, the more they’ll listen.
--my boss on the yearbook staff, with whom I locked horns more than once

If I write this and pretend like it was a year ago this is what I’d say …
--guy who I obsessed over for a time, before I realized he was not what I had made him out to be, who friended me recently on Facebook and now subjects me and his other 400 (mostly female) friends to a neverending stream of “deep” observations

I can’t believe that the Publisher man who won all that money believed you were from England!
--girl who was part of a group of us that ran into a Publisher’s Clearinghouse $10 million dollar winner (his pic had been all over local TV) at Chili’s in Denton; also, sad evidence that I was still doing my fake British accent at this late date

Remember when I was reading Lord of the Flies [at a tennis tournament, at which we both lost … again] and Toby told me that Piggy was gay and a monster was gona come out of the woods with a six-pack?
--CK, partner in crime

Keep your brother in line!
--insanely, dangerously delusional person

I KNOW THAT I DONT KNOW YOU AS WELL AS I WISH I KNEW YOU BUT I DO KNOW THAT YOU ARE SMART AND BEAUTIFUL AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT WHEN I COME BACK FROM TECH NEXT YEAR I WANT YOU TO GO OUT WITH ME.
--annoying guy who drew hearts encircling my face everywhere it appeared in the yearbook; eventually flunked out of Tech, then waited on me, my mom & my grandmother at a Red Lobster years later and pretended not to know who I was

F-A-N-C-H-O-N-E-T-T-E

Bee Week is well underway, kids ... I done wrote about it awhile back, and here's a take from an actual winner (my boy Scott, recently rediscovered via the Magickal Internets Technology of Facebook). Watch it, y'all -- it's fucking Crazytown.

LYLAS!!!

Actual Things Written By My Classmates In My Freshman Yearbook, the 1989 Crag, In Which I Really Don't Remember What the Fuck They're Talking About:

I also hope that you get you-know-who before you-know-who corrupts him.
--Berwie

Keep in touch this summer and have fun sitting on your butt (since that's what you seem to like to do).
--Lab Partner

I just wanted to wish you the very best and I hope you become our president someday. So when Im thrown in Jial I give you a call so you can Let Me Out.
--some guy whose name I can't place

So since you won't be in [typing class] next year we can't bug [the teacher] and hate her. So well have to get together & hate some one else.
--girl I barely remember

I think your cool, sweet, nice, Groovy, funny, obnoxious. Well that about sums it up!
--girl who got married a week after we graduated

This summer we need to go out and party and then call [other girl] and tell her she should've been there!
--girl who was part of the Bronco Bunch

It has been fun in Algebra because I wouldn't have probably passed if you hadn't have helped me out.
--very delusional person

You are very smart and I personally think you have some great morals.
--other delusional person

I didn't know you until this year mostly because I thought you were a snob but you turned out to be pretty cool.
--um?

I guess we had a pretty good year but it looks like your Spelling skills are getting worse. Any time you need help with your spelling just call me.
--future member of the Dirty Dozen

Hey Peace, Rob Lowe is a lot better than Charlie Sheen!
--girl who, on balance, turned out to be right.

[over a picture of one of the four baseball players we were obsessed with]
I'd like to grab his BUTT!
--CK, partner in crime

“And I took my meds this morning!”

Y’all, I was caught in a VORTEX OF CRAZY on the bus this a.m.

Somewhere to the back, Slightly Retarded Tony Gwynn was yammering his face right off his head, asking people’s phone numbers (especially that of the guy I couldn’t see but who sounded like Stanley from The Office, which was awesome) and hollering quotables including the title of this post; the bus driver eventually got on the P.A. to ask him to please simmer down. Just in front of me, the … slightly off little five-year-old was bouncing off the walls, having glommed on to this woman who in recent weeks she’s decided is her best friend, waving her Woody-from-Toy-Story doll around and making her read this fucking book about Pirate Pete, while her mom – hefty, bespectacled and shaven-headed – ignored the rest of humanity as usual and texted the entire ride. Back and to my left, Mister Chatty Motherfucker was turned around in his seat, talking to this couple behind him about Sydney (the city in Australia) and its budget woes (WTFF?). And that was just DURING the ride; when I got on, at the last stop before the bus goes express to the city, we just sat at the curb for 20 minutes; I was busy writing my Sixteen Candles sequel on my new tiny little laptop so I didn’t really notice, but by the time people got seriously restless, a fire truck had pulled up, blocking us, and several of the firemen boarded the bus and removed a man, then stood at a distance talking to him for awhile. We sat there making nervous unfunny bomb-on-the-bus, terrorist-attack jokes while a raven-haired tattooed chick went out to talk to them, then came back; turns out, Removed Guy was in fact Crazy Guy, who from the first stop had been rambling about “Suicide San Francisco,” saying he was on his way to the Golden Gate Bridge to jump off it, and hoping he had enough money to get there – and the chick had spoken to the bus driver, who called … um, I guess the fire department.

You people who drive to work miss all the fun.

Everybody looks better on the island

SPOILER-FREE SURVIVOR-RELATED POST

You know how on Survivor, everybody always shows up to the finale/reunion thingy all glammed out and painted up, with their hair did and their nails on and their teeth whitened and their chassis freshly waxed and buffed? It’s always kind of weird and bizarre to see them like that. I find it really, seriously off-putting. I get used to seeing these thinner, un-gilded, natural-looking people, and as if by bad magick, they’re all back to being doughy, tarted-up American wannabe actors.

Ever argue with a fundie?

And did it make you feel like putting your own head through a plate-glass window? Here, have a look at this -- it'll cure what ails you. Bonus: Calm British accent!

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Thanks for posting, Sarah Brown -- I don't watch long videos from anybody but you, doll.

I know about ... seventy-five guys.

People I Know, Who:

Have been on Leno: 1
(Scoot)

Have been on the Today Show: 2
(Weird Arthur, with his band; the Drink Nazi, with a sign saying “I Love Al Roker”)

Have been on Conan O’Brien: 1
(Theresa Andersson)

Have run afoul of the legal system in Tijuana, Mexico: ~6
(names withheld to protect the innocent, but several of them blog)

Have run the NYC Marathon twice: 1
(Ratboy)

Have met Derek Jeter: 1
(LDW, who called him “Daryl”)

Were in E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial: 1
(Peter Coyote)

Admit to having experienced an alien visitation: 1
(Lebowski)

Dated Don Henley: 1
(SW’s mom, back in high school; still claims they were merely classmates, never dated, but is totally lying)

Have been thrown against the wall of a bar and had an automatic shoved in their face in Colombia: 1
(La Petit Deuni)

Are married to Dean Devlin: 1
(look her up, she’s in the IMDB)

Look like Angelina Jolie: 1
(Bamanda)

Wrote a book about booze, and listed me in the Acknowledgments: 1
(Ian Lendler)

Once told Andre Agassi they wanted to have his babies: 1
(Cindy Kemp – I’m using her real name in hopes that she’ll google herself, realize who wrote this, and get in fucking contact with me already)

Costumes = blowing it.

There is no point to that stupid band Animal Collective. I was forced to witness them in action because they were playing Letterman in the ep where Norm MacDonald* was the guest, so because Mr. Gleemonex is sometimes insupportably slow on the FF button, I caught a little of their act. And an act it is. It looks like a bunch of dbags named Josh who kind of want to go to Burning Man, but their parents won’t pay for it so they decided to make a “band” instead. Get the fuck off my screen with that.

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*I fucking love Norm MacDonald.

Ain’t no fool like a old fool.

Oh, Madonna. The thing is, I don’t want to have to be shakin it for dollars on the teevee when I’m fifty, no matter how astonishingly fit I am. I don’t want to need that kind of attention, I don’t want to find myself trolling for skinny-shanks Justin Timberlake to back me up so the kids will like me, I don’t want to have to vamp and preen and jump up and down insisting I’m still relevant. And that (well, that and your music, which I hate and have hated since pretty much everything after “Borderline”) is why I can’t stand looking at you, even at the gym where it’s a choice between you, a soap with a character named “Greenlee” and Imminent Myocardial Infarction Guy on the recumbent bike in front of me. Desperation and insecurity aren’t any less desperate and insecure just because a person is filthy rich and famous and well old enough to know better.

I *heart* email subject lines

SELF Magazine sends me a recipe a week. Why, I could not tell you. I don't remember signing up for this service, but who the hell knows anything anymore -- I might have been writing the things for the last three years. I can't prove I didn't.

But anyway, subject line of today's "recipe of the week" email:

You'll love munching on tuna tostadas this Cinco de Mayo!

There's a joke in here, I'm pretty sure, but I am way too tired and discombobulated to figure it out.