my lackluster and insufficient response

Hi Giant Spiders,
Please excuse the lameness of this post. I haven´t had internet lately and when I do, it´s a slow connection in some random hostel.
I'm in Bogota for the holidays and today I ate in a restaurant which hanged all its empty booze bottles from the ceiling. Thought of you all for obvious reasons.
Merry whatever you are celebrating you worthless group of atheist heathens.
Miss you all.

Merry Holiday Eve

here's my excuse....

for shame on me? fuck it. i guess for shame on me. i'm actually a little guilty for failing to come up with anything that's even mildly interesting or entertaining for the last two weeks or so, i guess that's what no internet access and comfortability will do to a gal. also i have been balls deep in working at the coffee shop for quite some time now because all the other baristas are smart and applying themselves to college finals week or they are dumb and going on lengthy vacations to visit distant relatives for the holiday season.... either way it means that yours truly gets to make the shit out of some fancy shmancy coffee drinks four to five days a week instead of my regular three. this has earned me two things: bigger paychecks (which i will spend getting my dog's nuts cut off and fixing the filling in one of my teeth) , and hands that are stained brown from near-constant contact with ground espresso beans (note: do not EVER call it EXpresso or i will punch you in the face with my brown fist) thus forcing me to wash my hands constantly so people don't think that i have some kind of skin condition and all the contact with said soapy water makes my hands all dry and crackly so i have to constantly slather them with the lotion made from the milk of a goat and also happens to smell like cake batter.... the result being hands that are stained brown but smell like sugary things. they are going through some sort of identity crisis as we speak. i really like making coffee, other than the afore-mentioned problems it's pretty rad. i know how to make latte art, so when you order that "skinny sugar-free double venti mochaccino with only half the flavoring" not only do you get milk that has been processed a million times mixed with aspartame and crema, but you can also get a pretty little design on top. and the regulars are all weirdos with extremely interesting life stories. like bob. bob is a guy who used to be a really successful entrepreneur (a word that i had to spell-check but used to be on his business cards) until he married some gold digging bitch who took all of his money in the divorce and left him with nothing but good credit which he proceeded to ruin with a series of ill-fated investments. now he sleeps under bridges and hangs out at my coffee shop all day long and reads. he is currently building me a sweet road bike from all recycled parts in exchange for dinner ever night. or scott. i don't really know scott's story but i do know that he tips me a dollar every time he buys a kearn's nectar juice in a can. i don't even do anything. he will go to the cooler, remove a can, bring it to the counter, and insist that i take a dollar from him to put in my tip jar every single time. i don't even pop the damn thing open for him. he sits and reads books about ants and native americans and will talk to the nearest person seated to him about anything at all. he paints landscapes. a totally interesting and nice dude, but appears to have no friends outside of the coffee scene. there are at least five old guys who come in every single day. and will sit there all day, every day, waiting for someone to start up a conversation with them when they get bored talking to each other. and while all of this may seem really depressing, it's not really. unless i am in a totally shitty mood and could give a fuck less about scott's ant farm that day, in which case he goes from "charming" to "pain in the ass" in less than two seconds. maybe next time i will write about the tattoo shop, which for some reason is not nearly as interesting as the coffee shop, but i will try and write about it in a way that will make you rapt with attention. until my motivation returns bloggers....

sam, we are going to get so drunk at your dad's shrimp boil it will be embarrassing.

max, felis navidad?

julia and julia's boyfriend, i think it's cute that you log into each other's accounts and write stuff.

later vaders

Hey You Guys!

What's happening here? Why have you all abandoned your posts? No Christmas lists? Two weeks of no posts? For shame.

Don't use Finals Week as an excuse, either.

Here are some blogs I discovered. Maybe these will inspire you?????

Calvin: You're on Double Secret Probation.

you have been warned

Hey Bill Murray

Make my Christmas Wish come true.

(thanks Haylee)

Operation: Christmas List is go

All contributors should follow suit in order to assure a bountiful Christmas

And since we're on an art kick...

http://24flinching.com/word/gold-seal/inspiring-artists/drowning-beautiful/

Look at this.

Maybe we can talk about environmental impact.

Or something important like that.

as long as we are on the jesus kick.

The War on Ant Jesus

In this, the Christmas Season, I think Jesuses of all types need to be honored, and that includes the ant-covered one. He's part of a video piece that's being yanked from the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery in DC at the behest of Republican leadership. I guess it's sacrilegious and "an obvious attempt to offend Christians during the Christmas season." Other pieces dealing with themes of homosexuality and the AIDS epidemic are also being threatened because they don't rise to an acceptable "common level of decency."

I'm not the smartest "dude" around, but I'm going to try and discuss this in a reasonably intelligent manner. First, this whole situation makes me pretty depressed. I think this is the first sort of big time art censorship that's happened since I've been able to think coherently, and it gets the blood boiling. This isn't hard-hitting, insightful commentary or anything, but this is a pretty transparent publicity stunt to get the base up in arms. I will never, ever say something as idiotic as "wake up, sheeple," but come on, guys. The government isn't supposed to tell True Americans that they have to let black people or gay people or black gay people eat at their loose meat sandwich shops, but they can't be content until a museum they'll never go to takes down a piece of art that's offensive... because, uh...fuck you, don't talk bad about my Baby Jesus, you terrorist piece of shit muslim!

I just don't understand what the point is of picking on the poor art world (especially the video art world)? The totally cowed reps from the Smithsonian said, "We don't think it's in the interest, not only of the Smithsonian but of other federally supported cultural organizations, to pick fights." That's so sad :( You've already beaten fine arts, Conservatives! A hilariously small portion of the public gives them any thought aside from when you guys cry until work gets pulled from museums, then they instantaneously forget all about it. Modern art is already so lame and terrible and bland that you don't need to scare anyone in to sucking more than they already do please. Leave us alone to suck in peace.

Maybe I'm jaded and these men are Good Christian Soldiers who love Jesus and worry that his feelings are being hurt, but really, these Republican humps couldn't give two shits about art, and neither do the type of people who vote for them. I'm so upset up in here!

My tearful Christmas wish, made on the twinkling North Star that leads the Wise Men to little baby Ant-Covered Jesus is that they'd leave everyone alone to do whatever makes them happy.

My nose is running

I cannot tell a lie: the new color scheme makes my eyeballs hurt. But also I just made soup that included onions (red onions) to which I am very, very sensitive.
(I am practicing putting my prepositions not at the ends of sentences lately but haven't made a lot of progress. I think that's because it was a bullshit prescriptive grammar rule invented by the English who had their huge powdered bloomers all in a twist.

This is something up with which we will not put.)

My Thanksgiving was largely traditional and largely "heartwarming." Clark did very well with the unfair amount of family and high school friends present at one event or another, and he even talked to Grandpa Mike more than I think I have ever in my whole inadequate granddaughter life. Clark Bonus: You beat three generations of Maes women in one Scrabble game! 1-up.

I don't have something overwhelmingly provocative to drop on you tonight, and I don't have much time to make up anything really, but I'll drop you a couple proverbial recommendations anyway:

CD I remembered I liked: Electric Light Orchestra's Out of the Blue. I hate using the word epic, but this album is actually kind of epic.
Show I remembered I liked: Fawlty Towers. Better John Cleese than lots of other places and a perfectly good reason to laugh at the Spanish.
Book I remembered I liked: The Phantom Fuckin Tollbooth. Critics acclaim: "It's the best book in the whole wide world." I'm reading it to Clark because he is a baby and likes bedtime stories.

Merry Christmas Season!

It's officially Christmastime here in the Inner Spider Sanctum. More cheer to come...

PS: Calvin, are you really a DJ?

Maybe I'll just write a post.

Butte was most excellent. It was great to see Olive and other, non-GSS friends. I wish I could have been there longer, which is something I never wanted to feel. I freaking love Butte despite all that its many and glaring flaws. It's in my heavy-metal filled, asbestos-ridden blood. I'd like to think my girlfriend loved it there, but I'm probably fooling myself. She took a lot of sick pictures, so I'll post those and get her to write a guest opinion of the place.

School's out in three weeks and I'm having a full-fleged nervous breakdown. It's rough to be a total visionary and try to conform to these plebes' notions of "due dates" and "deadlines." I'll deal, though, and me, Pancho, and Lefty will blow your asses off when it's all over.

Julia: Dig this documentary. Banksy accidentally made it and it's brilliant.

Max: Way cool poem. Is a Mexican hamburger different than an American one???

Olive: Ummm, stay frosty.

Calvin: I repeat: Are you actually a DJ? Post your tunes here for maximum fame and fortune, dude.

Everyone: Comment please! Tell us your favorite Christmas song! Favorite Christmas movie! Favorite Christmas sexual position! I don't care... I only want to be your virtual "e-friend."

Chicago: stop being cold and dark. It's depressing

Bill Murray: I know you're there... is Scrooged your favorite Christmas movie? I bet it is.

Checking in

Hey Bro and Broettes,

I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving. I was especially pleased to hear about Olivia’s shenanigans. On Thanksgiving I ended up running into a Colombian professor who spent the last 6 years in the United States so we went out and got Mexican hamburgers to celebrate. Dank.

Also, I’m going to echo Sam and Olivia in acknowledging, with a mixture of sarcasm and awe, the profundity of Julia’s last post. That’s what we in the English speaking world like to call a ‘think piece.’ I wrote a ‘think piece’ once for the esteemed publication ‘Rat Poison’…but everyone (namely Holt Bodish) hated it. So I haven’t tried to use my brain since.

I did write a poem though. I’m going to go out on a limb and share it with you guys. I’m sure Sam will make fun of it but that’s the only way he can show he cares. I wrote it the other afternoon while sitting in Bucaramanga’s plaza. So here it is. Free verse, babies.

Sitting on the steps

Of the Gubernación

Surrounded by bumangeses

Doing what they do

On a Monday afternoon

Smoking a cigarette

With coffee in a plastic

Cup next to me.

With a green v-neck

I bought this morning

In Cabecera

Two hours of sleep and a

Lingering hangover

From an improvised

Sunday night party.

Any hipster would die to

Look as cool as me right now.

I keep losing the words

Because I focus on my coffee.

A poor man wearing a

Spider-man t-shirt came up to me,

Asking for money for his

Wife and child right when

I wrote “I keep losing the words”

Up above. I give him 300 pesos,

The last coins I had. I chose not

To give him my 10,000 peso bill.

He said something about

Liberty being beautiful

And gave me a thumbs up

As he walked away.

In front of me I stared

At a man picking food

Out of a trash can,

As a man in a business suit

Walked by and stared at me.

Behind me is a statue of

Jose Luis Galan

I know nothing about him

I know nothing about

Colombia except what a

Self-centered 23 year old kid

Sees when he walks out into

These streets, behind a

Glass shield of privilege.

These moments on narcissistic

Introspection are delicious.

My coffee and cigarette are

Gone. I’m going to sit here

In this plaza for a few

More minutes, On my

Walk home I’m going to try

To buy a pirated copy of

A Garcia Marquez book.

Using the 10,000 pesos in my wallet.

Getting Fat with...

happy effing thanksgiving bloggers/readers/ those unfortunate souls who happened to stumble this page. now i could go off on a well-deserved rant about pilgrim and indians and rights and suffrage that eventually followed...wait. what? yeah, not going to happen. but what DID happen yesterday is that i stuffed my face hole. twice. and then i had pie. to tell you the truth by this time i was kind of getting sick of pumpkin, and i could have really gone for a slice of chocolate cheesecake... but my sister, in some sort of stroke of passive agressive-ism or selfish genius NEVER TOOK IT OUT OF THE FREEZER. so i was stuck with pumpkin. but i globbed so much freaking cool whip on it it could have been not pumpkin....just a big glob of cool whip i guess.

i honestly did try to help with the cooking, but my sisters and the head chef (i.e. my older sister's baby daddy) seemed to have collectively decided before i got there that all i was to be trusted with was the mashed potatoes. and even then after i got done peeling them all decided that my cognitive abilities stopped there and took over, whisking me out of the kitchen with promises of disney movies in the back room. so i sent the remainder of the day drinking wine, sneaking bits of food when backs were turned, listening to sister's baby daddy scream about how worthless the cowboys are this year, and diffusing arguments before they could turn into world war three and ruin my ever having any chance of turkey and green bean casserole. we had planned on taking a bunch of family photos but i think we waited too long and by the time everyone congested into the living room my youngest sister had chaged into her sweat pants, her son was screaming about his buzz lightyear toy half way across the room and my one and only niece refused to stay in her dress, so we put the kibosh on that idea real quick which is all good and well with me.
and russell showed up and that part was uneventful... mostly because i held a super-secret meeting with my family before-hand and told them to behave in what most people would consider a "normal manner" . it seems to have fooled him....for now. and then we got home and watched that weird al star wars song which was still awesome. and when i woke up this morning the poo i took has to be what having a baby feels like. especially after a bowl of granola. AND TONIGHT I GET TO GO TO BUTTE AND SEE SAM AND RACHEL AND GET REALLY DRUNK WITH THEM. but for the whole day i will be over and afore-mentioned sister's house helping er with all of those pesky left overs.

sam. see you tonight, much later than i would like because russell is stoopid.

julia.... thanks for making the rest of us look legit.

max.... i hope you got some semblance of turkey and trimmings yesterday.

calvin.... wtf.

Another blog recommendation suckas

My friend Jon is part of Pack of Strays, and offers streaming playlists of whatever shit he's been into lately. His radio show is on KBGA 89.9 Mondays 12-2.

Hey Canadians!

One of you searched "testicular cancer november no shave" and found our site. Sorry we couldn't help you with some solid medical advice or something :(

late breaking news: apparently No-Shave November raises awareness of men's health issues in some nebulous way. i did not know that.

Welp

Julia made GSS' first "try-hard" post, making the rest of us look like idiots. I hate to knock it out of the headline position with my childish language and tenuous grasp of sentence structure, but I wanted to seize this moment of intelligent discourse to say my own piece.

No, Julia, other artists have not commented on my blog, and I'm pretty sure no one at this school besides my gf (girlfriend) has seen it. SAIC is the sort of place that shuns narrative storytelling, which my current Pancho and Lefty work is, in favor of conceptual work, which I'm terrible at. The stuff I've shown in class hasn't gotten any negative reactions, but a combination of distrust of artsy morons and low self esteem has forced me to keep my head down and work on my piece in solitude until it's something I'm a little more comfortable showing off. Thankfully, two of my animation teachers are commercial animators (one is the animator of the Trix and Lucky Charms commercials) so while everyone else is showing pieces about their menstrual cycle or whatever, I can talk to them about like Duck Tales or some shit.

I'm not really sure why conceptual work is hard for me to do... I just don't want to fucking do it, man. I want to build new stuff to make people happy, not poke around in my own brain trying to find and explore like my repressed and shameful sexual fetishes. The School of the Fart Institute.

I've been totally horrifying myself lately with thoughts like, "in Montana, I wouldn't have to wait so god damned long to cross the street. No one would be honking their horns in Montana. A man is surely more free in Big Sky Country, yes sir." I never wanted to be one of those small town assholes who thrive in quiet solitude, but I can't help it. I've started listening to Johnny Cash and Gordon Lightfoot of all things and just being totally lame. I have multiple pieces of Montana clothing and hipsters are always like, "you aren't really from Montana, are you?" and then I'm all, "yes, asshole." I just want my snow and my fresh mountain air.

ladies: in montana it's okay to make out with a horse

Chicago has been more than good to me so far, though, so I guess I'll deal.

Other current mind-boggling music obsessions include:

The song Highwayman - Johnny Cash in space? Yes, please.

Billy Joel - I don't understand this one, but Movin' Out is a good song.

Fucking Wagon Wheel - I hate this song, but it makes me think of MT so I've listened to it about 8,000 times in the past few weeks.

That's all I've got. Read Julia's post below. It's much better.

PS: Hell yes 6,000 hits

we're big in fiji

Meta-blog From the Future

So I am a class this semester called "Teaching Oral Language and Media Literacy" which is totally boss and I am learning a lot. We get to talk every day about power and language and technology, which are three things I am theoretically passionate about. AND TODAY we talked about blogging! Blogging is rapidly becoming a widespread tool in high school classrooms for many reasons, and during reading and discussion today I felt wicked validated in my GSS pursuits. Congratulations to you all for being part of something great in my life.

Our current reading is Blogs, Wikis, Podcasts, and Other Powerful Web Tools for Classrooms by Will Richardson and was published by Corwin Press in 2010. What Richardson discusses in the first three chapters (introductory pointers on the purposes of using blogs in a classroom and how to get one started) weren't terribly enlightening, being an "established" blogger already, but reinforced most of what I believe about the medium. Stay with me while I meditate on this point for a while:

1. The Internet was created with the intention that people across the globe, regardless of any social or intellectual markers, can communicate with each other.

2. A wise man once said, "What the fuck is the Internet?" The Internet is a mysterious tool and is something the generation which follows ours will undoubtedly know more about than we do. It is our duty, then, as teachers, to modify our curriculum and pedagogy to this new literacy our students will have.

Gentlemen and scholars

3. Blogging is more than journaling. I know I frequently arrive here without much to say, or if I do manage to babble for a while, little of the text holds portent, but frequently, I attempt at least vaguely to think about what I write, why, and for whom. Rhetoric is a facet of language that has always fascinated me, and I think the purpose of writing and the intended audience of each piece is frequently forgotten. We get stuck on term papers that only our professor will read, or go to the other side of the spectrum and journal solely for our own pleasure. Here, where I have the opportunity to write for a global audience, on my agenda but with millions of people in mind, I can not only cultivate my writing abilities, but also entertain, educate, and challenge.

Furthermore, I think this applies to more than just words on paper. Sam, in your other blog, where we can find horrifyingly infrequent posts of your decidedly delightful artwork, we can see an artist's entire process, especially now that you've moved into animation. The growth that comes from this, whether you see it or not, is likely monumental. (Do other artists see and/or discuss your work as a result of your blog? I am unfamiliar with your pursuits but I know there's potential). Olive, what the fuck are you doing in a tattoo shop? You are part a piece of artwork... on people's bodies.... that lasts forever! That shit is mega-power! Max is in fucking Colombia teaching English, which is a tool that separates, in many ways, the powerful from the powerless (which may be unfair but that is a topic for a separate post). Calvin... can go to hell. Just kidding but seriously dude what are you contributing? Your last post made me laugh out loud but I don't think it made sense. Did it? Are you part of some East-Coast-Weirdy-Cult I don't understand? If this is the case please accept my sincerest apologies.

In essence, this sick blog has allowed me to continually entertain, educate, and challenge, which I think makes sense on accounta I'm going to be a teacher when I grow up and all.

Here are a few other things that have recently entertained, educated, and challenged me:

- Walter Dean Myers' memoir Bad Boy. Myers is primarily a young adult author (at least recently), which is good because A) all of his books are in large print and make me feel mad accomplished when I read one in a single day and B) kids anywhere from age probably 10 to 19 have the opportunity to read really provocative literature. In a given book, he talks about violence, urban existence, reading and writing, learning disabilities, the concept of "family," and, primarily (it seems), race, among other things. This is an author I will continue to read and, if I have the opportunity, use in my classroom.

The too legitest to quittest guy ever.

- Fuckin' Banksy. You guys must know about him already, but refresh yourself or something. This guy is the beez kneez! Talk about power.
- Missoula's transgender community. There was a showcase of student transgender artwork on campus today that was kind of weird and kind of wonderful and I can confidently say I do not understand them at all as a group of people.
- The Back to the Future trilogy. No kidding, watched the whole thing this weekend. What the fuck is time travel? What the fuck is time?

I gotta go. Macaroni, Kurt Vile, and an outdated handbook for learning conversational Italian await.

holidays ahoy!

which means that eventually i will have something of consequence to write about. i loathe all things christmas. maybe a little less so now that all my sisters started pushing out offspring. they cry and their hands are always sticky, but they give me a good excuse to watch disney movies in the company of other adults. so there. but i imagine my christams rant should be more near christmas and thanksgiving is like, two weeks away... during which russ is going to meet my WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY (due to misinformation provided by my sister who said it would only be her and her kids and her fiance but is now turning out to be her, her fiance, her kids, both my other sisters and their kids, my mom, and my brother and his girlfriend) and russ might not like me as much afterward so i imagine i might write about that whole debaucher-ous deal but until then i figured i would just let you all know that one day i will write something that may be kind of interesting depending on the type of person you are and what interests you may hold. <<<< that was a run-on sentence. just sayyyyyin.

Big Tables Mean Big Accomplishments

I will be the first to say that the Student Organization Suite at UM is a vacuous hole of nothing to do. I can't be an organized student I guess because I don't actually belong to a student organization, I just come in here to use their internet and big tables. Clark is in a dumb meeting and I wait for him here so I don't have to walk home in de cold weddah. Also I think I'm allergic to productivity.

Therefore, heretofore, and due to the transitive property, I am here to relieve the rest of my faithful children from their own boredom and give you a few helpful hints in self-medication. Self-entertainment. Entertainment.

BEHOLD: THE LIST OF THINGS TO DO WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO!

1. Homework. Boring still; vetoed immediately.

2. Read more blogs. I just spent 45 minutes on Steam Me Up Kid which is one whose hilarity rivals our own.... Or is actually way better but don't tell Sam. You can tell Calvin. I don't think he cares about any of us any more.

3. Pretend passerby say funnier things than they are typically capable of. Cases in point: "Are you guys sharting still?" and "SCISSOR ME!" I am near the corner where the Women's Resource Center intersects with the LAMBDA Alliance so that second bellow isn't really out of the question, but to be fair I'm also outside the radio station so I think that other guy said "charting." Whatever.

4. Think about what you're going to do when you get home. I, for example, am going to find some food, make sure I have clothes that don't smell like cigarettes and "impulsivity" to wear to the middle school tomorrow, and watch Drunk History.

5. Worry about kids these days. This week in my health class (not like the gendered health class in 4th grade where the cool "developed" girl discounts what the counselor is telling you about the period you're about to get, or the required superficial high school health class where you make a poster about peyote and think you know about drugs real good, but like a Health Issues for Children and Adolescents class where you're about to be a teacher and your future students are kinda dumb and also sensitive so quit being such a bitch) we talked about the Montana Meth Project and it made me all depressed and grossed out. Have you seen those pictures? Scare tactics are sort of petty and bullshit and there is considerable controversy over whether the Montana legislature should continue to fund the program, but I'll be damned if I'm not straight TERRIFIED of meth now. We also started the youth suicide unit which makes me want to waltz into Mr. Teach's room tomorrow with a million cookies and tell every boy their Heelys are totally rad and every girl their butt looks super cute in those jeans, and start a dating service to ensure every 12-year-old shmoe in Missoula has at least some vague attachment to this world. That's what makes good teachers, right? Overarching worry and showering of material gifts?

6. Seek more comfortable surroundings. The chairs in this vacuum of a room are a fittingly sterile black plastic that gives me what my mom calls "bun rot." This is, in normal speak, when your butt falls asleep because you've been very still typing for an hour.

7. Call Primo BFF. She doesn't answer, so wait for a while because you know you should leave a voicemail even if it's just to "say heyyyyyy gurrrrl," but chicken out at the last minute because you realize you don't want to sound creepy like you have nothing else to do while you wait for your boyfriend to get out of a meeting and have exhausted all your other options.

8. Think of new band names. Ryan and I formerly billed under the name Sober Enough to Drive, but I got tired of it and thought it maybe wouldn't be good for my eventual career as a caretaker of young children. New possibilities: Griz Lead Town, No Dirty Hands, National Coming Out Day, Blonde Readhead, Office of Greek Life.... only kidding, these are just words on the walls in here. If you have a suggestion, please DO leave it in the comments box. We are a two- to eight-piece band depending on the day and play primarily Americana/folk bar or coffee shop music, depending on the time of day.

9. Wonder how you're going to stretch this list to 10 so you feel like closure is appropriate.

10.
Tell Bill Murray you think he's aging gracefully.

Christmas Trees, Pride, and Other Things...

Hey! We've (almost) all written on this blog like pretty much a lot the last few days! I'm proud as heck of all of you but then my mom called me and said, "your friends are all writing a heckuva' lot on the blog and you aren't doing a damn thing!" And she was right. I was too busy being happy that everyone else was writing that I forgot to.

I Proclaim: I Will Never Be Proud of Any of You Again!

But cut me a break, I'm busy as hell preparing to be internationally famous. School alternates between being pretty cool and a shit show. I got here and was like, "art kids aren't as bad as everyone says they are! Mostly they are either more nerdy or more gay (if you can believe that) than me, so it should be a breeze!" But then I discovered that film students and teachers are the reprehensible and disgusting creatures that give other art students a bad name.

"you guys look at my camera you guys!" This is every day of my life here.

Looking at what I know about people like George Lucas, Quentin Tarantino, and Public Enemy #1 James Cameron, I should have known that film students would be self-improtant, name-dropping reptiles. If any type of art student is going to corner you and talk to you about terrible shit you will never ever care about, it's film students. But like ummm, I don't have any hard evidence or anecdotes proving they are badguys so just take my word for it.

Chicago Christmas is ramping up early and going deeper than balls deep. Halloween was pretty cool and there are enough freaks here that it was a good and drunken time, filled with Olive and karaoke, but Christmas is shaping up to be old-school and hella classy, like with department store window displays, horse drawn carriages... that sort of jubilant holiday stuff that I depend on to get me through the other 11 months of the year. It snowed about two and a half flakes yesterday, the people in the apartment across from mine put up their tree, and I just discovered Pandora has Holiday stations so I'm literally a pig in shit right now.

this is me

That's all! Still no word from Bill Murray! I swear this isn't a creepy thing, Bill! Even just an e-mail talking about your time in Butte would suffice. I'm deadly curious about the whole situation is all.

MEGA FAUNA cont.

I was just cleaning my room and a tiny SCORPION ran out from under my bed! While I went to get my camera the scorpion ran under my dresser. Now I'm sitting here with a poisonous arachnid hiding under my furniture. If it comes out and stings me and I die, I just want you all to know that I love you very very much and it's been great watching you all grow up into such fine young adults.

S.O.S

I just saw a commercial for a company which offered to connect customers to guardian angels via text message. We need to get in on this.

it's no shave november!

i expect all of our male contributors to post pictures of their progress, and in return, i won't. (this clause exempts calvin seeing as how he could not grow facial hair if he tried really really hard and used lots of rogaine on his face.)

i know you guys will never be as awesome as these guys, but give it a go for testicular cancer awareness and my enjoyment.... ok mostly my enjoyment but we can hide it under the testicular cancer guise to keep some of your dignity intact.

this is a picture of bill murray with a mustache

on a sadder note, i had to leave sam in chicago. i would have stayed but i have a dog in montana that i could not bear to part with and none of my friends are responsible enough to get him on a plane safely. poo. he does have one really cool roommate who told him that russ and i are beautiful (tee hee) and one not so cool room mate who wears lots of red flannel and watches sports center all day long. but his hawt latina girlfriend makes up for it. russell tried to get us all killed halloween night by inappropriately high-fiving gangsters, but before that we all sang karaoke and got real drunk at some sort of karaoke bar where the dj sang purple rain and it was the coolest thing i have ever witnessed in my life. pictures are up on facebook for those of you who are interested. i got to see a real live shark at the shedd aquarium and almost pooped myself, but luckily there were sea horses to save the day. all in all chicago is pretty rad.

i'm thinking about quitting the cigarettes, but like most things in my life i will more than likely abandon this idea within the week.

gss tattoo coming soon. promise.

MEGA FAUNA!

Hey GIANT SPIDER SOCIETY! I was walking home today and I found a GIANT STICK BUG!

This ferocious beast did absolutely nothing for like 15 minutes so after I took a billion pictures of him/her I peaced out, ever so certain that we would never cross paths again. Actually, he/she is still probably chilling out in the same place. The background in the photo isn't a tree. It's some iron post-modern art thing. Sam would have real opinions about it.

Julia, congratulations on two legitimate blog posts. If we were all as dedicated as you this blog would be off the charts. But you didn't mention Bill Murray.

Bill Murray Bill Murray. Giant Spider Society Loves Bill Murray. Bill Murray.

I miss you guys. My diet here mainly consists of fried bananas.

One more thing

Elvis Costello came out with a new album that I have not listened to and probably won't ever. It didn't even make it into the KBGA library.... straight to trash bin.

You're gonna get weak ankles if you keep standing like that, E.

Also I have the first couple seasons of SNL and Elvis Costello has the single worst performance in all of it.

Anyway this is merely a warning to Sam so he wears things on his head so his ears and ass don't bleed all over Chicago before I get a chance to see it.

I forget

A couple days ago I thought several times "I should blog about that," but I've since forgotten everything I was going to say in cyberspace. I shall, instead, relay to you the same kind of nonsense I usually shit all over this page.

First order of business: Painting our house has progressed but mildly. Cheddar went out to pick a color for the livingroom and texted me while I was at work "Im goin with a blue green." I thought "Well, it's no Italian Buff but we'll see how it looks." I got home to a blue green unlike what I expected (relatively neutral, soothing, and easy to coordinate with everything else). It was... teal. This color teal:

Thank you, Chet.

"Wow, Cheddar," I said. "That's what you meant by blue-green, huh?"
"I called my mom and I think she led me in the right direction...."
"But you got lost along the way?"
"I'm COLORBLIND!"

Fuck. The name of the paint is LITERALLY "LaFonda Teal." Even colorblind people should know that shit's ridiculoos.

I managed to convince him to only do the accent walls and this weekend we're doing the rest in "Colonial Cream," which should mellow it out a bit. The kitchen will be "Golden Tulip" with "Colonial Cream" and Matt did the main floor bathroom (by that I mean sort of did the main bathroom... including the inside of the shower....???) in "Someone Ate a Raincloud Then Took a Dump All Over These Walls... And Shower...."

It's lookin good.

For those who wish to know, mainly Olivia, my Halloween was the most boring Halloween possible (except for all the boring Halloweens my 30-something friends had individually). We went to a party (I, a sunflower, Clark, a giant joint) but turned in pretty early. To clarify: slept in the KBGA bus, which wasn't wholly uncomfortable, just smelled like gasoline. And Clark's face was green and we were both on a twin mattress... real spooky.

Clark, my black girlfriend
(Just kidding I am racist I would never date a black girl)

Good news is that sixth-graders are way cooler than I remember them being. Or remember being. Bad news is they think Chuck Norris actually did all those things and his "autobiography" counts as a novel. Whatever. I got to tell some other chumps about House of the Scorpion and Holes. YA Lit is such a freaking cool thing to read for homework, by the WAY.

Ummmmm otherwise, Clark is in the northern Montana wilderness recording an album for a week and I am ridiculously lonely as a result, so I'm going to find some more children's novels to console my bitter heart.

Happy Halloween to All Our Spider Pals and Bill Murray!!!!!!!

google "bill murray spider"

do it. we are the 5th and 6th hits on google. so if there is anyone in the world who is wondering if bill murray is afraid of arachnids, they won't find their answer, they will find sam ranting about avatar and crying about how max left. which i think is better. jussayin. 5,000 hits? dang. how is everyone" personal blogs doing? not as good? yeah, me either. i guess we just bring the brilliant out in each other. or maybe i just bring the brilliant out in all of you. bahahahahaaahahahahaha. suck it.

max, you can't be batman. sam has replaced you. you'll get em next year kid.

julia... i am ever so curious as to what you're being for the upcoming festivities. enlighten me prease.

sam, once again. pee. holy fucking shit balls i'm going to see you in less than seven days!

caaaaaaaaaaaalvin. write about the revolution or something. write about you're cat's licking patterns, anything.... i miss your musk.

i'm being michael jackson from the bad album cover. fuck you guys, it's so cool.

Bienvenidos from just north of equator

Re: Halloween. Colombians celebrate just like we do in the USA. As far as I can tell, the holiday has literally been transported piece by piece. There are even all these signs and banners around that say 'Happy Halloween'...no one has even tried to translate it. I'm playing in a Halloween -costume ultimate Frisbee tournament , but our team hasn't decided on our costume theme yet. I'll keep you posted. Main thing is I'm super sad I won't be in Chicago with you guys :(

Bill Murray Bill Murray Bill Murray Bill Murray

Here are some things I would like to say about Colombia:

1) It's spelled ColOmbia...not ColUmbia. Just sayin'.

2) There are ants all over my house...they dig holes in the kitchen counter and crawl around under my key board. And as I've started to write this blog post, I've been bitten by like three mosquitoes.

3) Today was my last class working with nurses at the medical school. I had them debate about which patient they would choose to give medical treatment to ( a sick baby or an international aid worker who needed a vaccine ASAP to go help with a foreign crisis). I thought it would be a good way for them to practice English but it just turned into a Spanish screaming match. The baby-team won.

4) I went hiking the other day and got slightly lost. I DID NOT get kidnapped or step on a land mine...but when I got back I got a lecture about getting kidnapped or stepping on a land mine.

5) TV shows Colombians like: The Simpsons, Big Bang Theory, Modern Family and Two and a Half Men. I guess I should start watching TV again so I can relate to my students better. Modern Family has been pretty funny so far but I can't bring myself to watch Two and a Half Men.

6) Colombia is North of the equator.

Bill Murray Bill Murray Bill Murray Bill Fuckin' Murray Bill Murray

I wish I had something funny or witty to say. But I don't.

I miss you all and I want you to come to Colombia because beer is only 80 cents a bottle and I bought a potato and steak shiskcabob (spelling?) on my drunken stumble home the other night. Wish you were all here stumbling with me :( Ok, I'll quit being emo and go back to whatever important thing I was doing before Sam reminded me that I should write on the blog.

We Have 5,000-ish Hits

We are cool as Burl Ives in his Oscar-winning role "Sam the Snowman" from the timeless children's classic "Rudolph and Frosty's Christmas in July."

PS to my co-contributors, not including Julia and Olivia so I guess mostly Calvin and Max: Write on the blog, idiots. MAX YOU ARE IN COLoMBIA. PLEASE WRITE ABOUT IT.

PPS Welcome to our loyal reader in Honduras.

Scrooged Caddyshack A CInderella Story Bill Murray

Git Ur Bütz Awn

I recorded a country album, bitch! We spent 12 hours straight in Clark's studio last weekend, where Ryan and I kicked out a bunch of one-take wonders onto which Clark laid down some sweet guitar riffs and/or drum beats (the man is a prince). And then he also mixed it then and there and suddenly I'm a recording artist.

Toby Keith sitting in on some of the tracks.

Sam is making us album art but until then we have some limited edition prints with pictures of badgers, tequila, and a man pointing at a bowl of Spanish rice.

I can't figure this fucking thing out so maybe later I'll post a song but we don't even have this new shit on our Myspace so don't bother looking.


Post Script: The middle-aged man who owns/sort of lives in our house decided he's going to be in Mexico until May, so to make it livable while he's gone, the other three boys and I are doing a gigantic ceremonial sanitation and reconstruction a la Flip That House, only better. Chet used to say the only way we can really clean this house is via flamethrower, but I think we all want to remain non-homeless so I think sledgehammer and bleach is maybe as far as we'll go.
I'll keep you posted.

CHICAGO HERE I COME!!!!!!!!!!

ok so all of you can be really fucking jealous right now because I'M GOING TO GO SEE SAM FOR HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!

yeah. suck it.

so we were texting this morning trying to figure out what i want to dress up as, because i can't mob into chicago for the first time ever in my life with a lame ass costume. (like russ is going as cowboy- real original) and then we got into that whole conversation of how "once girls hit a certain age can they not dress up like car crash fatalities and have to be hawt or what?" -sam 11:53 am today
to which i replied "you only have x amount of time to be hawt before your just inappropriate with saggy skin and thinning hair" to which sam replied "that actually makes perfect sense, i take it back." lol lol lol lol.

but that got me thinking... at which point did it become ok for me to stop dressing up as bill murray from the ghost busters (you're welcome sam) or a dalmation, or dracula, and start dressing up as uma thurman in various movie roles, or dita von teese? and i'm starting to realize that the only reason that i dress up all floozy like every single year is because i'm fucking lazy. do you know how long it takes to fashion your own home-made proton pack? or how full face chalky make-up tends to start melting after the first thirty minutes? do you know how easy it is to just push your boobs out a bit, wear lace gloves and some sort of stockings and people see that as being adequately costumey? so so so so easy. last year i was a vampire ballerina. i got the dress second hand from my old room mate.... and it took me all of thirty minutes to get ready. it took my boyfriend longer to throw fake blood all over him than it took me to get fully dressed and then scrub aforementioned fake blood out of the carpet because someone got a little too enthusiastic.

and now i am in the midst of deciding if i'm going to be a drag queen or lady luck for halloween. the drag queen thing would be so rad bu i would have to find a full length sequin gown that fit well, and maybe pluck my eyebrows off and redraw them on to get the full effect you know what i mean? and as sam pointed out earlier lady luck might be a little obscure. so we'll see how far my laziness extends and maybe i'll just punk out and be that soulless cunt kat von d. easy enough.

bill murray bill murray bill murray zombieland.

sam. i'm gonna pee a little bit when i see you. you are forewarned.

julia. i'm sure your costume is way more witty and well-thought than mine. don't judge me.

max.... are you even celebrating? do they do that down there?

calvin. hi.




gss out.

Butte Update prt2 Bill Murray Edition

So just now I was talking to my girlfriend about how Bill Murray used to own the Butte minor league baseball team, The Copper Kings, in like the early nineties. I've told this anecdote about Murray hijacking a trolly tour a million times, but I can't remember where I heard it and I'm not even sure it's true. As I told the story, I got to thinking that Bill Murray being in Butte is definitely the kind of thing people would bring up more if it had really happened, so I decided to investigate.

a young bill murray lounges in quiet repose

My internet detective skills turned up a snippet from this book talking about Bill sitting in his private box at the baseball field, winking at people and having charity events and barbecues and things like that. I couldn't find anything besides that, but I guess that's enough for me.

So here's my point: This is a big deal. Bill Fucking Murray ran around Butte and no one talks about it. It's lost history of the highest order. I looked for a way to write him fan mail, but I couldn't find anything so here's my new plan: write Bill Murray in this blog post enough times that when he does his daily Google search of his name (Bill Murray), he'll see this site and think, "Bill Murray, I had some good times in Butte. I think I'll swing by there sometime soon and have a beer." I'm not saying he should like meet with me or anything creepy, I don't even live there anymore. He should just go back. Butte's cool. Bill Murray's cool. Just saying. So if you know a person who knows a person who knows Bill Murray, pass this along

Bill Murray Ghostbusters Garfield Groundhog Day

love,

sam

Butte Update

I drove through Butte yesterday and when I went to tell people I was in town and see if anyone could grab a cup of coffee the only person I could think of was Tim, the 17-year-old boy who is still in high school and who doesn't drink coffee even but he had a Dr. Pepper to pass the time. I think he's probably pretty lonely but it sounds like he's got some good shenanigans in the works in True Tim Form.

Otherwise we tried to negotiate fences and/or rubble to check out old buildings with no success and got diabetes from the candy store in Philipsburg.

Back to real life!

HELLOWEEN

It's fucking Halloween Month, bitches! Despite being a total pussy, Halloween is the dearest holiday to my heart. In Butte and Missoula people put up mad decorations, which warmed my jaded and bitter heart. Here in the heart of the city, though, I'm really worried that the month will pass and their will be no sign that it was Halloween at all. It's not really a holiday for suits and squares and it's overall not as important as it used to be. There aren't boss Halloween edition Gushers or Very Special Home Improvement and Boy Meets World Halloween Specials anymore, and that's just terrible.

Whatever. I bought my Count Chocula today and I'm buying rubber bats tomorrow and I' going to get balls deep in to Halloween.

Here's a place with a sick Halloween countdown and jukebox.

updating....

hey bloggers/readers

a few things:

-sam's new girlfriend is hawt. kudos buddy. you were out there for what? three weeks? good form man.

-max needs to post more.

-julia, i'm glad you have the glow of premium beer and fake titties to guide your way at night. good form as well.

-calvin. good to hear you're alive. i was beginning to wonder....

as for me i have been staying uber busy with two jobs. this whole tattooing thing has been really taking off, for which i am seriously grateful. russell and i just took a trip down to austin texas, where the only things that are bigger are the freaking crickets and the scenester kids, but i got a bitchin new tattoo that can be seen on my facebook (no it's not the gs one, that one comes soon) and we got to see ratatat live at stubbs. they play a wicked good show, even though the opening band played a song about the lead singer's cat. weird. airplanes are cool. and the stewardess gave me my very own pair of wings like the fat kid in that movie heavyweights... ever seen it? ben stiller plays an anorexic crazy person. good shit. speaking of crazy people, i have to go move all my shit out of the crazy house that i have been living in tonight. woot woot!

dope sauce.

We Have 4000-ish Hits

Whoever it is in Australia that keeps reading our blog should reveal him or herself.

Mash Update:

1) Sam is no longer in the first spot on Rachel's the Blog. The #1 slot* has been reserved for Calvin, and the #1 spot on the Blog de Rachelle has become occupied by a much more deserving subject: Mash-up. Contemporary music wallows in its own bohemian nature to such a degree that there is no longer any enjoyment to be found in listening to what the 'artists' want 'us' to 'hear.' We must mash it, and then toss it up. Toss it up into the American BlogMcSphere so that it will precipitate gloriousness upon us.

And now, another mash-up for the enjoyment of our audiences:

The owner of the intellectual property rights that can be enjoyed by accessing the following link has every right that said owner had reserved prior to my posting this link on this blog without any permission from said owner:

http://classicsnoop.ytmnd.com/

2) Columbia is super hot, and I have been schwitzing everywhere.

3) I have been listening to Sweet Dreams are Made of Seven Nation Army for the entire time that I have spent blogging on this blogspot blog. Also, I do actually enjoy things being mashed together, and Max sucks.

4) Max would go to Columbia.

vvvvvvI WROTE A THING PLEASE SCROLL PAST JULIA'S PICTURES OF BUXOM WOMEN TO HOTDOG BABYvvvvvvv

Here's the Thing

It has been literally hundreds of years since I've contributed anything of value to this thing and for that I sincerely apologize. But also it's been Fast Times at Ridgemont High/the University of Montana and Surrounding Areas so you can't really dog me that much, dogs.

BUT. I did move. I currently live with four dudes in an only vaguely dilapidated house that is so wicked cheap and in the most bomb location I can hardly believe I got it. Things I like about it (besides aforementioned all-stars price and place) include:
Cheddar and Gonzo (two of the roommates),
Oscar (Gonzo's dog),
big houseplants,
tall ceilings,
wonderful amounts of natural light,
three floors,
two fridges, and
secret closets fucking everywhere.

I light my way by her glowing bosoms.

Things I am apprehensive about include:
the main floor shower (pretty much Saw III was filmed in there),
lack of a record player,
the linoleum in my bedroom (I guess this is this a kitchen actually???), and
the middle-aged dude who has holed up here for 11 years and can't manage to clean said shower OR find a boyfriend who's either in this country or close to his age or both (I guess this is love actually???). He is currently in Mexico and will be for an undetermined amount of time.

Wowzers!

Other bizarre turns in my life pretty much bend around KBGA, the radio station Clark manages generally, which is having its big Birthday Bash this Friday and will most likely be a killer time. I have folded many a t-shirt and distributed many a handbills in preparation, and I think it would be a thing all you Giant Spiders (blog contributors as well as our adoring and rapidly multiplying [like spiders tend to do] fan base) would enjoy to the utmostests of utmosts. I certainly wish you were here to enjoy it with me instead of being in places like Colombia, Chicago, New York, and Bozeman.

Ummmmm Olivia should choose a new place.


Today I walked up and down a hundred flights of stairs, got tested for TB, and had a two-hour lecture on child abuse.


Smell ya later!

Get Off My Back

Hey guys! What's up with you? Me? Oh, you know, I still live in Chicago. It's cool.

I guess it's been maybe a few weeks too long since I've written on this thing, but you have to understand that pretty much I'll I do here in Art Schoool is homework (here's a secret i went through most of college pretty much doing almost none of my homework so this is a big deal for me!!!!!!!!!). I'm trying to commandeer (steal) a camera so I don't just have boring-ass walls of text.

people like hot dogs here

Here's some stuff I've done to tide you over until I can write something not shitty/think of something interesting to write about:

1. Learned a bunch of nerd bullshit like "Flash" and "Maya" and "Photoshop" and gay shit no one who gets laid regularly would ever care about.

2. Made a cartoon with a farting dinosaur.

3. Found a nice girlfriend(!) who is also a bomb ass photographer/painter. HERE IS HER WEB DOMAIN you will notice I am in first place on that blog, just the way it should be.

4. Fuck you, Max!

5. Met a bouncer who got us into a Dirty Projectors show for free.

6. Pushed a man in front of a subway train.

I miss you all especially bad. I will get a GSS tattoo if Olivia really gets one. I promise.

Friday is my birthday so you all have to write nice posts about MEEEEEE.

What is going on?

Like I said, what is going on?

Here's the Colombia update: It's really hot here and I'm sweating all the time. I'm sweating even as I sit here typing this.

Also, I miss you guys. Wish you were here sweating with me.

Eat a butt, Olive

bitches be trippin.

and by bitches i mean EVERYONE.

my face is about to melt off due to the sheer frustration that is permeating almost very aspect of my existence. poo. so you know those kids that head into town around this time of year? julia, you know what i'm talking about. college kids. neon-color-wearing, slang-talking, cocaine-doing, i-own-this-town-mentality-having d-bags. they are coming out of the fucking wood work and it's driving me mad. they are ruining my town, and making me hate kid cudi. fml.

on another equally aggravating note: i HATE my new room mate. for realsies. i don't think i have ever lived with anyone who i have hated more. and we have to share a bathroom. which is constantly covered in a thick film of foundation because of the amount of make-up that she wears. it's disgusting. dilemma: move out and be sane with a place for my dog to hang out? or save my money and go on a trip to see ratatat with russell?

arguments for moving out:
-no more period blood stains for me to find on the toilet seat (not fucking kidding)
-no more waking up at five am listening to her maniacally doing dishes or smoking weed and watching re-runs of the x-files at max volume
-no more coming home to find that my dog has been locked up in my room for five hours and has torn apart my bed sheets
-being able to walk to the kitchen in my underwear in the morning without having to worry if she brought home some random who felt such personal guilt about fucking her that he spent the latter half of the night on my futon in the living room
-actually getting to hang out in the house that i pay rent for rather than reclusing in my room constantly.

arguments for going to ratatat:
-russell will hate me forever if i don't go.
-he already bought tickets
-i'm supposed to bring my friend gregg with us
-gregg is only coming because we get so see our mutual friend joel, and get tattooed by him.
-i have never been on an airplane
-it's fucking ratatat, live at stubbs

on a much more awesome note: i have been tattooing my face off lately. it's been ridiculously busy down here and i love it. more pictures will be posted on my facebook soon for those of you who are interested. and supposedly i am learning how to actually make fancy coffee beverages at my other job this week. good knowledge to have i suppose but not as excited about it.

WHY IS IT SO IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND SEMI-SANE PEOPLE TO HANG OUT WITH???????

sam, you are the shiz
max, you are the shiz also
jules, your face :)

signing off in desperation.

We need something else up there besides Olivia's sticky vagina, so I simply came here to tell you (class is about to start so I can't blong- blog long) that I successfully moved out of the KBGA bus and have a house to hold all my things now. My roommates are more like the characters of a gay Mexican soap opera than any gay Mexican soap opera that has ever been. I think two of them are moving to Miami though so things should be cooling down pretty quick.

I'll update again soon. 

Sappy, maple-syrupy vagina face

omg. i guess rights abouts nows is the time when we all get super-nostalgic about this last summer.

whenever i get all sappy about shit my friend shayna tells me that i am a vagina. when it gets really bad she tells me i have viscous liquids dripping from said orifice. right now i could cover every pancake and waffle known to man. holy crap i miss you guys. it's so bad that i refuse to go to butte because you guys aren't there. seriously. russell invited me to go last weekend. it made me sad that i had literally no one left to hang out with. besides cordel, but he's not much for conversation. this shit is depressing.

on a better note. i now have two jobs. i love them both. i am currently logging this post from the computer at the tattoo shop that i now work in. it's manned by a wicked ass crew that make me guffaw on a second to second basis. and sara martin rocks. check her shit out. and those are just the photos she takes. if you want to see her skin art, come down to the shop.
also. organic coffee shop. the shit. too much fun. i get to harass yuppies and i get paid for it. win.

and then there are other things too. i suppose i could write about them but that would force me to sift through the magma of emotions and various data to try and find some sort of cohesive way to explain shit, but i've been up since 7 am (due to coffee shop job) and i'm fucking tired.

sam... prease don't exprode. i'm going to send you care packages. i need your address.

max... i'm not sending you shit because your host family spoils you. well, maybe some pepper spray :)

jules... maybe you would be willing to hang out with me in butte sometime???

i'm getting a GSS tattoo. no jokes. that's how much you guys mean to me.

one love.

I did it, I guess

Howdy, pardners. I'm fucking living in fucking Chicago RIGHT NOW! It's... terrifying. My dorm is all empty cause I'm a loser and I guess everyone is hip to what's up besides me. That's what I get for being older than all the baby children here.

I rode a train here and here's my take on that: never, ever ride a train. They go like horse gallop speed and old ladies want to talk to you. It's just as creepy as a Greyhound and the only bonus is they'll heat you up Veggie Burgers in the meal car for like seven dollars. I've also never smelled worse than I did getting off the train. Like a freaking garbage man or something. Garbage ass.

But now I'm here in a dorm (I guess I forgot dorms sucked???), showered, and working up the energy to go to bed so I can be stressed out for the next 3 months. I don't really have much to say about this on account of my emotions are still oscillating and I still miss a ton of people (but not Ryan Hunter, who thoughtfully came to pick me up at the train station so I wouldn't GET LOST AND DIE). Here's what's outside my window:

It's that dumb Chicago sign or something. It's pretty cool. Someone move here with me :(

More importantly

I miss Sam. I said goodbye to him at 6 am this morning in my underwear after closing down the Dollar and being so epicly drunk I texted my boyfriend and I quote:

"Its because butte is a ture cowboy sity."

And after he told me to sleep well and drive safe:

"I will or something. ??? i just so miss you"

Butte brings out the best of me and I'm sad I have nobody there left to visit. See you you on New Years you douche bags!



But actually what I came here to say is that I forgot the most important shit being fucked up beyond my personal bubble: there is literally a potato blight up around Flathead. You remember that shit that like ruined Ireland? Yeah that. I'll investigate further and update you all on whether we'll have to start eating babies or something.

My ass is exploding out of the top of my head

I'm like pretty much upside-down today. I'm straight up like that mother fucker at the end of 2001, all looking at that hyperspace old man/baby/crazy light shit and tripping balls

me circa right fucking now

The last week and a half or so has been a sort of full-throttle, breakneck effort to deep-fuck this state right in the fun hole, mostly initiated by my good friend Olivia Who Is Not Blog Olivia. I've accidentally ended up hours away from home like three times this week and criminally trespassed on to a lot of old, very hazardous mine yards. I've basically been handling toxic waste: Sorry Future Children.

Also:

Public Urination

Vandalism

Littering

More Trespassing

And if there are still laws against Perversion, I broke those too and continue to break them right NOW!

Now I'm grappling with the fact that I'm sort of the last man standing here, having watched those near and dear to me disappear into the misty Land Unknown. I've been sitting in front of a blank notebook all day trying to get over my shell shock and make something creative out of it, but my mind-load is blown. My mind is strip-mined.

...but stay tuned now more than ever. I get on that train in two days and then who fucking even knows what will happen. I'll really start cranking out material for my red-headed stepchild blog, I figure (I'm refocusing my Pancho and Lefty strip in to something actually readable, for starters), so these may be exciting times for Fans of Sam.

apropos of nothing, just a sweet as heck picture

I accidentally found this neat-o site just now.

bye.