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If I were a work of art, I would be Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa. I am extremely popular and widely known. Although unassuming and unpretentious, my enigmatic smile has charmed millions. I am a mystery, able to be appreciated from afar, but ultimately unknowable and thus intriguing. Which work of art would you be? The Art Test

. . .of course you do!

Joseph Spaniel - Freelance Dog
People Found
Prey Hounded
Children Mauled
Unconditional Love Granted
Call For Free Consultation

All you kids need to know the new fashion: long underwear, two coats, gloves and - instead of a hat - headphones. You heard it here first.

I worked eight to four toady. Which is only half an hour longer than my six-thirty to two shift - but seems a whole lot longer. By the time I got done finding food and goofing around after work, it had goten cold wet and snowey. Which has left me disoriented. Where am I? Where was I last time the world felt this way? Is it day or night? Am I in the middle of a work week, or am I about to do some downtown thingy stuff? Do I even work full time? Do I live here or am an on some strange vacation trip, to which there must soon be made sacrifices of time and traveling? Who am I? What the crapin crap is goin on here?

Anyway, time for some Legend of Zelda.

If you actually feel disappointed about getting off work early, well, you're probably a dork.

Somehow, I have managed to combine spending a day with the fam for thanksgiving with drinking heavily with friends the evening of said holiday. Didn't think I was gonna pull it off.

This Thanksgiving, I was a Man. Or at least an Adult. Kinda weird. Time marches on, soon my parents will be old and my cousins and I will be the catalysts of this strange ever so infrequent social ballet we call an extended family. Already, I can never be bookish poofy haired eccentric Seth child again.

I would also like to point out that I supported and won the finishing question of the traditional battle of the sexes trivial pursuit game for the Men. We were playing Genus 5, which includes a lot of pop culture shit. Answers I knew that my clueless male relatives did not: Knowing what a "Ronin" is (come on guys!), The Notorious B.I.G, Odysseus. . . I won the game by knowing the basic nature of the Film "Time Code". Thank you Harry Knowels, you fat bastard!

My hair is the shortest it's been in about five years. I'm keep going back and forth on it. Either I look like a clown or a greek statue (in the hair department). Timothea would be pleased.

I've been spending a lot of time with the first volume of Cowboy Bebop on DVD. Style, baby.

"I think it's about time to blow this scene.
Get all the people and the stuff together."

"Do not put marbles in your nose
do not put them
do not put them in there."

"It's not a comedy, it's a horridy. It's called 'Blood Dumpster'."

Another Strung Out Incoherent Song and Dance

I sleep with ear plugs now and then. Now I have to, because the furnace that heats my apartment is basically in a closet in my room. When it turns on, it's a lot like someone has opened a gate to hell. First the fan, which is pretty harmless white noise. Then the flames start. All you need is some backwards talking to complete the illusion.

Speaking of which, last night I had one of those rare experiences when it feels like someone or something is pouring vile Clive Barker-ian or H.R. Gieger-ian visions into your mind. Incinerate them with imaginary fire or bombs if you want, they will only reform themselves or leave the stain of their passing in the visual/actual reality of your pre-sleep thoughts.

I had incredibly good time at work today. I'm in the middle of an eight day work week, which does not end until Thanksgiving day. Half of the staff of Panera left, and suckers like me have to pick up the slack. I'm not sure if I want to see my extended family on Thursday. I should probably get my haircut. But I kind of like it this way. It's just now got long enough to pull back again. But then I sure did feel nifty when I got it all cut off back when. It's like when I shave and I discover there's actually a handsome man under the scruff. Getting or not getting my haircut is like playing a game of guess who with myself and the world, playing around with my own flawed ephemeral impression of how I look. A game half serious because I'm messing with my outward impression to the world and therefore my inward sense of worth, but one I have to attempt not to take to seriously because you don't want to obsess over vanity and you don't want to appear to obsess over vanity.

I can't beleive I just wrote that. Anyway, I'm tired - been up sience about fiv,e went to work at six-thirty. Want to see a matinee of Harry Potter with Evan and Co. tonight - he ain't called me back yet though. Got work at eight tommorow. Luxery. Feel bad haven't read Evan's copy of H.P. yet. Solace: I work the night after tommorow and looks like it almost lives up to the City Dock cafe standard of Seth Working with Hot Teenaged girls. Not quite - but it's as close as we're going to get in this town, right now.

This entry is dedictaed to Rob Zombie.

I did not stay awake at this hour downloading the newest bit of Star Wars trilerness thingy.

Really!

Okay, is Obi-Wan Kenobi allowed to be sarcastic?

Aparently I'm the only person whose ugly mug does not require some seventies style psychodelic photoshop image manipulation to look bizzare enough for Andrew's purporses.

"So fuck him and fuck you, too."

Wow. I had a pretty damn good time at the Casey Maddox/Chris Weis Party last night. Still pretty sore. Not that it was bumpin' exactly, but we had a little JCHS reunion - by which I mean a bunch of people I didn't hang with much that I haven't seen seince graduatuon. Evan, who I went with, actually hung out hard core with some of those bastards a lot. Anyway, an illeagal amount of fun was had. Unfortuenently my amusingly pretentious relatively young English teacher of old was not in attendance.

Under Evan's influence I bought The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past for my super nintendo.

It's kinda funny how everyone is pretty much the same except they do a lot more drugs.

Although people who really do a lot of drugs can be humorless grim and determined. Which is pretty frightening.

I don't know anything about classic rock. Being around these guys when they talk music is kinda weird. I mean, I'm a guy filled with specialized geek knowledge and all, but somewhere I missed the boat on this stuff. I guess I could get Tom and those guys to help me out with my dirty hippie side - heh. But maybe not.

Well, Evan is in my house so I better go. Enough PooP.

I have this co worker. He a funny guy. Swarthy, just a little taller me and more in shape, he's much more a man's man than me (not that that's hard). I'm not sure if he would have been the part of the group of preps that found me and my crowd amusing in high school, or if would have just beaten the crap out of me. Anyway, somehow I have won his respect and amusement despite being a scrawny and addle headed pretty boy. It probably helps that you're pretty safe adding filthy and foul mouthed to that list of late.

Really, he's pretty amusing and gets along with everyone well. With one exception: overweight girls with little or no social skills. Girls real hardcore geeks go out with. These girls he tortures mercilessly. Or at least a whole lot more than folks our age who are supposed to be adults NowOrVerySoon should really be allowed. He already scared off one girl, who will be working as a new manager at the shop accross town. Now he's working on another.

And it's not that these girls can't be real annoying sometimes. It's just this guy dosen't realize that you give people a LOT of leeway in the stupid area before making any judgements.

For me being around him is like High School plus male posturing plus the mundinaity of the adult world. It's real strange. But he's a funny guy. So I guess it's okay.

I forget what my point was.

I may stop neglecting my blog. I forgot to ask off for the days around Thanksgiving. I'm tired and sick. I need to go wash my filthy self, and apartment, if I want to have fun tonight. I may or may not get accepted to Columbia College. I may or may not get the first semester free. If I get accepted I may have to work a lot, and I won't know how much I can eke from my parents, or how much I should. I may be able to take martial arts again, or voice lessons. Those cost money. My boss followed the letter of the law, and not the spirit, giving me one day every weekend off when scheduling a SUN - SAT schedule, meaning I may get both days off one weekend or none. Thanks.

Why do we have to assure ourselves of the stupidity of certain others at every opertunity? Does it make the world go round? It seems probable and sad. Who is reading this?

I wish I could stop beng a burden. But I tell myself that sending me to a thirty thousand dollar a year school was at least as much a decision of the adults around me at the time as myself. I was seventeen, they were near fifty. Right?

The highway my mother commutes from Jeff City is winding and fast. She's a little middle to late aged woman. If something happened to her, I don't think I could live with myself. But I'm not sure if there's anything I could do to stop her. Good God, I hope she's not doing this just so I can free college education. The debts of the last few years are already set down. I try to raise the issue: she replies she's an old woman and not afraid of death.
Nice, huh?
I need to go home and build up my phasod. So I will spare you any more of this stream

Do I look exactly like Enya?

The amusing little lesbian girl at work insists I do. Aparently Enya was on Jay Leno last night. I was shocked. I never really comprehended that there were or even could be a a person or conglomerate of people behind the entity known as "Enya", much less that Enya was the name of an actual human being. My mind always assumed that Enya was sort of a self conglomerating ball of suck, occuring inexplicably in nature and then harvested, or perhaps instead apearing on radio and TV outside the realm of human volition somehow. Moving in mysterious ways, this suck ball is either mystically beyond human comprehension or bellow our notice entirely, depending on your opinion about things that just hapen in nature mysteriously. And stuff.

Uh. What? Yeah. So either I can look up pictures on the internet to see if I look like this hypotheticall person, or I can hurry home to watch DBZ.

I propose that we get it percalatin'.

If that's okay with you.