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True Blood -- Still flowin'

I don't care what you normal, non TB fans say. And by TB, I'm not referring to tuberculosis. Although, there is a strong support system for that as well. Nothing like a solid 19th century disease to ravish half the population.  You can even like it on Facebook. Not joking; look it up.



TB in our realm of science fiction/fantasy dramas (brought to us so lovingly by the premium channels HBO, Showtime, etc.) actually refers to True Blood. Which in turn, refers to a four year old show littered with vampires, werewolves, shape shifters, fairies, witches, maenads...and any other creature you'd stumble upon in ancient folklore. This past weekend showcased the season four premiere of True Blood, and it was mesmerizing as always. "It" representing Eric Northman, played by Alexander Skarsgard.


Or, you can also call him my boyfriend. He just isn't aware of this fun fact yet. Zooming out to the entire show, I am glad that the season four premiere kept me hooked. After Pandora's box of mystical beings was opened in the last season, I wasn't sure how much longer I could watch with so many weird, unlikely occurrences. Nonfollowers, don't get me wrong. It's far from Twilight, which, besides vampires and werewolves, has literally nothing in common with Sookie Stackhouse and her gang of sex craved castmates. Abstinence education is the furthest thing from a True Blood episode; sorry, Edward and Bella (or whatever their names are). I'm not going to beg and scream until you get into it, so don't expect me to exhaust all of my energies on a miles long tirade about the importance of watching this series. If you're already locked in, I hope you're enjoying the next route we're heading towards. And if you have yet to watch more than a few episodes in a row (key note, start at the beginning), I would highly encourage you to do so.

TB is fun for many ages. There's really not much else like it, with its southern charm and ignorant hick personas. And while it's nearly impossible to make vampires sound cool thanks to a guy who "sparkles" in the sunlight and has ridiculously large hair, trust me, TB will help to change your opinion.
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Dis(patch)appointed


If you are a Dispatch fan and bought tickets for the Boston show(s) this weekend, you are probably seething along with the rest of the extremely loyal batch of supporters. I don't know if this was a deliberate marketing move or a malicious attempt to screw over anyone who was willing to spend some extra cash to ensure that they and their friends would be in attendance, but I cannot believe what is going on with the ticket sales thanks to their presale shenanigans. 

I can see this happening with an artist like Taylor Swift or Lil Wayne, big name, top ten artists who sell out concerts constantly and are more concerned with making money overall than whether or not Joey from Manchester, NH makes it into the venue. While those types of artists may appear to have "loyal" fan base, it's far more materialistic than a band like Dispatch. But Dispatch? People eat, breathe, and shit Dispatch. They have most likely listened to them for over 10 or 15 years, have known about every reunion concert in every city and can cite the bandmates' names, birthdays, parents' names, social security numbers...maybe not SSNs, but you get the idea. This isn't a DMB bandwagoner or Grateful deadhead--Dispatchers are something else. I don't consider myself one, but I have developed secondary anger seeing my friends who are devotees initially hemorrhage money for extra tickets and then get completely screwed by them releasing additional tickets at a later date and opening up a third concert. This nearly exponential ticket surge of course entirely depleted any demand since there was such a high supply. Econ 101 anybody? Bueller? 

Now, since all of Dispatch's most loyal admirers have purchased an excess of tickets, there is no one left wanting to buy, and certainly no one who would buy at face value, let alone a higher value that would actually make a profit. I hope the band realizes the sour taste they have left in everyone's mouths as we approach the big weekend. Three shows, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I hope it's all worth it.
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Learn how to drive a stick.


Not only is it incredibly cool, fun, and better on your mileage, it is a great skill to have in case of emergency. It's really not that difficult, either. It takes maybe 15, 20 minutes to get the hang of it. After that, stall-outs are not allowed. It helps decrease road rage (I can't stand other drivers most of the time) since you're not bored to tears nonchalantly pushing on one pedal or another. If you know someone with a standard, ask them to show you sometime. Maybe not on the hilliest street in town or in the middle of a busy intersection; parking lots and side streets are perfectly fine practice spots. Not to mention, it's funny as shit watching your friend freak out cause they keep jerking the entire car forward. Always put people down to make yourself feel better. Just kidding.

I'm not just saying the "in case of emergency" blurb because I'm trying to sound like my mother--I've actually encountered a situation where I was the only one who could drive the one car available. My brother was in a diabetic coma, and at the time, his girlfriend had no clue how to drive a manual transmission. Earlier in the day, I was tempted to leave the house, so for everyone's sake I'm glad I didn't. Of course, they would've called an ambulance, but in terms of saving thousands of dollars and getting my brother to the hospital on time, it was clearly almost vital that someone was around able to drive a stick. Maybe people don't constantly go dying on us or fall into a medical condition that requires professional assistance immediately, but you never know.
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Poop Burger -- Nuff Said

Mmm...finger lickin' good.

Really? Realllllyyy? I mean, a poop burger? Am I that surprised that an Asian scientist came up with it? Talk about innovation. There are so many terrible puns in the news lately. First Weiner, now shit burgers. They're probably far healthier than McDonald's and Burger King. I just can't even begin to fathom--then again, I guess we could always recycle the corn in our shits. Along with blueberry skins, extra lettuce. Anything else that surfaces. How is he so sure that it's clean though? Are there going to be massive outbreaks of E. coli infections? Is that covered by insurance? "Uh, you ate a burger. Made out of poop. Good luck with that hospital bill."

All I know is that we need to ship one out asap to Shooter McGavin. Then he can eat pieces of shit like Happy for lunch.
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Oldies but goodies


I hate that saying. But Oldies are great. My favorite Pandora station? "Stand by me" radio. You'll be jammin' out like it was 1960 all over again. As if any of us were around at that time...sorry to the older folks who happen upon this blog. 1960? My mom was 7 and my dad wasn't even born yet. Yeah. She is a cougar if you weren't aware of this already.

Back to the music. Here are some of my favorite oldies songs. They're such feel good tunes, and never go out of style. I wish I could find a club that would play them more besides Bingo night at the Elks club. Gotta love my seniors, but Delores just doesn't get down the same way anymore with her bad hip.


Jackie Wilson -- Higher and Higher

Love Affair -- Everlasting Love

The Temptations -- Ain't too proud to beg

The Jackson 5 -- I want you back

The Beatles -- Twist and Shout

The Supremes -- Baby Love

Put on your poodle skirts and pretend to be prude and conservative 
while you groove to these smooth beatz of the 1960's...
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NHL Finals - Cue the skanky team outfits

Round of applause for Rebecca of the Bruins Ice Dancers...

I can't wait to tally up how many girls will be wearing low-cut, cut off, short sleeve or tube top, incredibly small Bruin's shirts tomorrow. Staples is going to be sold out of scissors in about 30 minutes Wednesday morning just so girls can slice up their shirts to reveal even more skin. "I wanted it to fit better, hehe!" No, you wanted to look like a whore at a sports bar pretending you give a shit.

I feel like Bruin's fans can get a little trashy (no offense to Boston). It's just a phenomenon my friends and I have noticed at several sports bars around town while watching the various playoff games. That's fine. Just don't take your trashiness into your wardrobe so heavily while still trying to be that "guy's girl" who likes sports and wears team gear. If you want to wear a Bruins jersey, get a real one. Not saying you have to get an XXL and sport it around like a potato sack, but I don't really take you seriously if you're just wearing some yellow washcloth with the tiniest Bruins logo. And to be honest, I don't think any guys will honestly think you're that much of a cool girl either. Sure, they may want to sleep with you, but that doesn't mean that they actually care. Come on, ladies.

A real guy's, sports watching, beer drinking, wings eating gal will be for the most part actually interested in the game. Any memorabilia will consist of a legitimate jersey or loose fitted men's t shirt. Any moron who wears tight exercise clothes in general should die, and anyone wearing tight, team specific apparel should die a very slow death. Unless you're actually on the Ice Dancers or whatever the f they're called, keep it real and keep it classy. Otherwise, you basically end up the laughing stock of 90% of the bar. Good luck trying to tell yourself you look good.
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Pumped To Learn

An important quality to take away from any parent - child relationship is the eagerness to educate oneself and others. Both of my parents pretty much nailed that child rearing requirement, even if they completely missed out on the opportunity to teach me responsible financial management.


I am a huge nerd. I come from a long line of huge nerds. I like to get nerdy with my parents and grandfather and uncles and cousins. Learning is incredibly cool to us.

I was reminded of all this the other night when I was talking to my dad on the phone about his graduate school program this summer. He is enrolled at the Breadloaf School of English of Middlebury College. It is a graduate program spanning 5 summers that you must complete within 10 years. This is his fourth year, and every summer he goes, he unleashes all of this newfound energy and exhausts it on incredibly dense literature and profound, eloquent thesis papers. He goes into extreme detail discussing what classes he is taking and how excited he is to tackle some of literature's biggest challenges, the toughest adversary probably being James Joyce.

While I may roll my eyes a tad because his enthusiasm can seem overdone, it's refreshing to have parents that understand that there is always more to learn, more to soak up. They have yet to throw in the towel and succumb to a life on the couch watching second rate sitcoms. They both embrace life and plan to enjoy it for a many number of years to come. That includes a heavy immersion in further education, whether that be in a classroom, during a conversation with a significant influence, or in a provocative piece of literature. My dad always says, "I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up." There is always something that you can better about yourself and work towards. I'm not suggesting we all become perfectionists, but I'm pretty damn sure you could use some more reading material.
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You're really that surprised...?

...that Sarah Palin butchered American history? 
Do you think this is a Sarah Palin thing or a US education thing?
Can the average American depict an accurate retelling of the story of Paul Revere?
The even larger question is why are we still talking about this. Sadly, the current media market's strongest suit is beating stories like a dead horse. 


...that a guy with the name Weiner tried showing some ween of his own?
Yeah, and Boehner is supposed to be pronounced "Bahy-ner". Right. 
And this was all on Twitter, which sounds terrible itself.

...that the Bruins just kicked ass? 
Granted they need to spread themselves a little thin over the entire series
instead of just hammering in eight goals in one game, they are finally playing like the champions they are going to be, as long as they don't choke. It's not like thus far they're our only hope for Boston sports or anything since the Pats and the Celtics failed and we've got seven more years until baseball season is over. They are also the only team left in the ranks who needs to their act together and win a ring. Then we'll prove to everyone that we have the greatest sports city ever--that is, if they weren't sure of it already. 

...Lebron made that snooty comment to one of the reporters post game three?
The reporter questioned his game by illustrating Lebron's failure to capitalize in the fourth quarter, a necessary facet of a championship, all star player. Lebron clearly got his panties in a bunch and said he was letting Dwyane do his thang, and that the reporter should ask that question again after the next game. Uh, what are you, three years old? Shots not fired. Actions speak louder than words. Always.



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Pictures That Reveal My Maturity


Universal Semen Sales, eh?
Do you think they have samples?

Just sayin...
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Stuck in my head

Steve Miller Band - Abracadabra

Why? I have no clue. I woke up this morning singing it. I proceeded to sing it out loud for my coworker as we were driving to work. She said she had no clue what it was. This is typically her reaction to anything I do. I wasn't sure either until I put it all together. 

Clearly my brain does strange things during the night. Who knows what my latest REM stage consisted of. Must have been some sort of 1980's dream setting where there's puffy silk shirts, heavy flirtation, and crimped hair coyness mixed with some Harry Potter references, judging by the super groovy beat and creepy magic oriented lyrics. I would love to participate in a dream/sleep study if they could somehow view your imagination in the middle of the night. Although, maybe it's best if we don't know what goes on. It could be mortifying.
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This is worse than when Bush won the presidency

This came up in my google search. 
Far superior to the three ug faces that could've graced this blog post.


The Heat are en route to a national championship. I hate to say it. No, I really hate to say those words. I never thought they would make it. People like Lebron and Bosh don't deserve this, and Wade already has a ring. Why is this happening? This is not American. America is about underdogs and hardwork, not about silly oafs (who happen to be good at basketball) milking the marketing of their bad boy bball personas and actually achieving championship status in the end. It's hilarious that the entire country more or less loathes the team. Not only is Miami a cesspool for drug trafficking, it's now America's least favorite sports city. To top it all off, CSI: Miami sucks, too. Definitely the worst one.

I've been trying to determine what exactly is feeling I have in my stomach when I think about the Heat winning a title. I've discovered it's rather synonymous with the aching I experienced when I learned that George Dubya was on his way to run our country. I honestly would like to leave the US for a few weeks until celebrations die down. Unless there's rioting. In which case, I'll stay. And participate.

It's difficult to even begin to describe my disappointment...in the Celtics, the Bulls, and now the Mavs. Maybe it's not over until the fat lady sings (or until Lebron gloats all over every form of media ever invented including a telegraph),  but let's face it. Dirk put his finger so far up Lebron's _ _ _ that it is now broken. Thus we are losing our only hope of halting their onslaught. Thanks a lot, Dirk. To think I actually started to like you a smidge. Hopefully the Bruins can pull through to keep our Boston sports heart beating. Tsk tsk, Boston, and the rest of the NBA nation, tsk tsk.