9622.net

I've been mostly inert.

Thermal underwear. And CD's of Nigerian Funk and Turkish 60's garage rock.

and a pony.

...

Turkish Psychedelic Rock.

Nigerian Funk.

Oh, yeah...world peace and all that good shit.

I would like all 9622ers to have user pages, with photos ripe fer photoshoppin', and a spoof on the mefi user page questions.

plus a big, syrup-oozin' stack o' flapjacks.

I already got meself an iPod, so that took care of my list. jon, there is soooo much amazing African music out there, I highly recommend the Ethiopiques series. You may find some Fela in your stocking some time in January.

I want to win my Super Bowl next week.

[/selfish]

And, I want all of you to have a very good year; to enjoy what you do, and to do what you enjoy; to have love and to be loved.

Same to you Mr. Hallmark Commish.

Oh, and I want none of us, or anyone in any of our extended families, to end up in a story the URL of which includes the string "teen_death_jackass".
That has got to be the modern equivalent of dying without clean underwear on.

Enough non-Hallmarky for ya, cynical-boy?

Haven Gillespie wrote "You Go To My Head"? That's a purdy song.

I want snow everywhere, but especially in places where I may snowboard. And I want all bagpipes to magically transform into accordions.

I want my leg hair to stop growing for a full month. I want Avril Lavigne to get bitch slapped by Pink on some awards show on t.v. I want the extra-sweaty guy from the Y to not ask to spot me on weights every single time. I want 30% tips from everyone. I want Florida to not be so far away. I want David Cross to get his skinny ass down here and marry me like is destined to be. I want Twin Peaks to still be on the air. I want just a moment of utter calm.

But, as the wise Sheryl Crow (as is seen in her latest endeavor with Kid Rock) croons, "it's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got." Sure as shit, she is right.

Happy Holidays, hos.

Commish, no one dies with clean underwear on. You body lets go of everything when you croak. As someone once said, "The last thing a man wants to do is the last thing he does."

Anathema: I just saw that series in the racks at Other Music a couple days ago. Spiffy.

I just want to ride my machine without being hassled by the man.

and a luchador mask.

I just want to ride my machine while wearing a luchador mask without being hassled by the man.

Sorry, that's not gonna happen. Good luck with the mask thing, though.

I want a Brooks Brothers suit. One of the really great microweave grey flannel ones that scream out "Here comes James Fuckin' Bond, you pantywaists! Lock up your daughters and maiden aunts, check your wallet, and you BEST have my martini ready."

All you youngun's may scoff, but the once you understand the power of a really good suit, cut to fit you instead of hanging off your raggedy bones like it did on the rack, you'll understand completely. It's a transforming experience. Like how it must have been in medieval times when a lordling strapped on his armor before a local dustup.

I could also use a hat that (a) doesn't look like I'm trying out for the second assistant numbass job in the Cherry Poppin' Daddies, and (b) doesn't create a 50-yard Guffaw Zone centered on my head.

They come runnin' just as fast as they can
'Coz every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man.

I have never owned a suit in adult life. I have a sport jacket and a few ties. But no suit. A suit would probably make me look like an apprentice undertaker. But still, I feel a void...

*opens Aston Martin door for Tizzie*

jon: for a thousand bucks (which is probably two weeks worth of CD purchases for you) you can get a nice Brooks Brothers suit, couple of good shirts (you want starch white and blue, eschew the fancier crap) and a tie or two (red/blue stripe, something intersting). Then take about $150 (might as well) and buy some Johnston and Murphy shoes.

That suit will last you 20 years and look like a MILLION bucks (a thousand percent return on investment). Vigorous white-haired gentlemen will nod at you in the street and envy your youth; captains of industry will reckon you a peer; your actual peers will seeth with jealousy; and women... well, let's just say that a good suit and a smile will go a lot further than just a smile.

I actually did wear a tuxedo suit at my sisters wedding, which made me look like Lurch.

Perhaps, it's just not right, like Miguel in a cowboy hat, for instance.

Didn't ya know it. The day after you get your 17" imac, this is announced. ;)

it's not merely the best Star Wars game that's ever existed; it's an interactive film that looks better than any movie that's ever been made. No child has failed to sob hysterically at the sight of it.

That's classic. I can just imagine the grim reaper showing me a PS2 back in 1981 while I was busy playing with my Atari 2600. Once you've played GTA III, you can't go back to Space Invaders.

jon, rented clothing makes almost everyone look not quite right (I've only had one tux actually fit me correctly, and it was an Armani- thanks sis!).

And Unclefes, I agree on the whole good suit thing, but I'm not so sure about it lasting 20 years. I actually miss wearing a tie to work, how messed up is that?

I can't wear a tie to work. It would get caught in the wood chipper.

What I want for Christmas is a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. I think that everybody should have a Red Ryder BB gun. They are very good for Christmas. I don't think a football is a very good Christmas present.

I'm with you on the suit thing, Fes. I never feel quite as good as when I'm wearing a well-cut suit. Thus, this last weekend, best-manning in a rented tux with a maroon vest, I suffered through.

For Christmas? A bunch o movies, a bunch o CDs, a bunch o GameCube games. And for all ants, everywhere, to find better things to do with their time.

Dude, We haven't trusted you with a BB Gun for over 30 years for reason.

the last you handled one you took out my ability to complete sentece form.

You'll shoot your eye out with that thing!

sorry, somebody had to say it.

Every once in a while I get the idea that it would be neat to wear a spiffy suit and get all groomed and shit, but it passes.

Truth be told when I wear anything other than jeans, flannel and a t-shirt, I feel like I'm in drag.

I really may be terminally adolescent.

Every once in a while I get the idea that it would be neat to wear a spiffy suit and get all groomed and shit, but it passes.

Truth be told when I wear anything other than jeans, flannel and a t-shirt, I feel like I'm in drag.

I really may be terminally adolescent.

...and repetitive.

I'm right with you fes re: the suit.
Not only was Johnny Thunders a heroin addict, he was also a suit addict. I have no idea what thats means, but it's true.

I don't want anything. I'll be glad when the whole thing is over.

[/humbug]

What I want for christmas, ain't gonna happen, so I'll take some snow. One it will add to the beauty of the day, and it may get me an extra day off, a Snow Day.

The child next door last night thanked me for putting up Christmas lights. His mom had told him it would help santa find his way to his house, when he had asked his mom, why the lights.

Then the kid rattled off a bunch of toys I had no idea what they were. So then he asks, Mr Thom what will santa bring you, I couldn't think of one toy he would know, so I said a lump of coal as I was a bad kiddie this year. He's only 4 but he sure felt proud to be a good kid, as he left with his mom I heard him say, maybe I can buy Mr Thom a rescue hero he needs a toy...

Not only was Johnny Thunders a heroin addict, he was also a suit addict.

*nods knowingly over at Johnny, admires the tight lapel-skinny tie a 'la Nick Cave classic combo*

best-manning in a rented tux with a maroon vest

They never fit worth a shit. And the secret, awful knowledge that they've been worn by uncounted people previously who may or may not have been able to hold their liquor...? Makes me want to bathe in Bactine afterwards. Ugga-wugga. I'd LOVE to buy a tailored tux, but I honestly can't justify the cost (which is high) based on the number of black-tie events I go to (which is low).

But in the meantime...

*straightens tie, throws on jackets, goes to lunch, orders a vodka-and-tonic*

The horror-action thriller, he said, will be produced in full 10.8 Omneo sound and feature new music from 40 of 2016's hottest skagcore acts, including ... Frances Cobain.

Now that's funny.

Also, one of my cats is named after Frances Bean Cobain (daughter of Kurt).

**removes lunch from breakroom fridge, hitches pants, sips green Kool-Aid in a pouch**

*fastens diaper, warms bottle, gulps delicious infant formula*

Actually, as far as tradition goes, my wife and I do a little Solstice celebration every year:

We open one of the bottles we've laid down from past wine-tasting trips, light a fire (in the fireplace...we're not talking about an arson thing here), smoke cigars and talk about the year until we are incoherent.

Can't wait for Saturday.

*dons Nixon mask, smears mashed potatoes on chest, sings "Mammy"*

Must ....resist..urge to make..."I prefer my infant formula from the tap"...joke...

**grips desk, sweats**

*taps jon's shoulder*

I think you just did.

*torments Lupo with acterisks*

*flees*

*
*
*
chases
*
*
*

*protects self with ampersands*

ha!

Oh Dear. Punctuation Combat.

Beware the Carets Of Doom!!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

*lures Lupo out of Ampersand fort with promises of delicious holiday pie*

*stabs wildly*

*injures self*

*cries*

*looks at self from outside*

*questions own value system*

*stops*

Carets are sublime
You get a dozen
For a dime
It's maaaagic.

mmmmm...pie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Fear my Tilde!~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*looks out at smoking battlefield, where nary a soul stirs, where Death holds sway, and weeps at the proliferation of seemingly innocuous text characters*

*Commissions Roger Waters to write a concept album about the dangers of text warfare*

~*~*~I'm.a.teenage.girl.blogger~*~*~

Sorry, mate, not enough money. You'll have to settle for Neil Peart.

We open one of the bottles we've laid down from past wine-tasting trips,

Finally someone my age who uses one of the fine free resources of Cali,silcon Nappa Valley, wine-tasting. Charles Krug was one of my parents favorite.

Actually, most of the wine we have right now is from Mendocino. Some great wineries up there.

I want the lovely people at Gateway to get a fucking clue! (any present company excepted of course) When I took my computer in to get a new hard drive, I asked them to let me keep the old one. "Of course," they said. I wrote it down for them, I told them three times, I begged, I pleaded. When I talked to them again on the phone, they assured me I'd get my old hard drive back. So what happens when I call to pick it up? First they can't find it. Why? Because they sent it back! "Don't worry. I'm on top of it," harried-hapless-tech-service-nerd says to me. "I'm confident I can get it back." Oh, well thanks a lot ... [grumble grumble]

What else? Hm. The usual--peace on earth, goodwill toward men, a host of heavenly angels, you know. That and a few dozen books, cds, dvds, and a pair of Ugg boots.

But in a pinch, you can't go wrong with booze.

Or crack rocks.

Or Lite-Brite.

Or Perquackey.

or midget porn.

I dunno. I think I'd rather drink booze than have to crack rocks.

I want nothing for Christmas.This is the conversation in our house these days:

Me: What do you want?
Him: Nothing. What do you want?
Me: Repeat.
Him: Repeat.

So we've been scratching our heads and making ourselves suffer needlessly over stuff we don't want.

re: suits. I'm rarely impressed by a suit, unless it's on someone who uncharacteristically wears one. Although when the husband got an Armani custom tux for a wedding, that was sublime. The wool crepe is like butter. If I could steal it and wear it, I would, but it sits there now, quietly waiting for another special event that never comes, while my 200 dollar shoes from a similar event pine away at the lack of foofy affaires to be seen at. One of you has got to get famous so we can gate crash a Vanity Fair Oscar Party....

post, villainous server

Touche.

Then, or cornbread.

The wool crepe is like butter...

But not as good on toast.

no, then the wool get stuck between your teeth, and you cough up hairballs. Very unpleasant.

unless you're into that sort of thing.

Which I am steadfastly and resolutely NOT, no matter what anybody told you.

I, too, have a terribly difficult time saying "For Christmas, I would like (fill-in-the-blank)."

When I'm supposed to want something, I don't. But in, say, March, I'm suddenly going to think "Damn, I should have asked for a (pony or something)."

... Ugg boots. now I know the 80's are back.
One of you has got to get famous so we can gate crash a Vanity Fair Oscar Party....

I read,... so crash can have a Vanity Fair Oscar Party....but yea I love to crash one, one day or the playboy mansion.

the ongoing saga of the missed opportunity.

Leonard Nimoy's assless chaps.

that's not what I want for Xmas, I just felt like saying that.

The wool crepe is like butter...

That's what Marlon Brando said, too.

re:suits. I'm not really a suit person, either. Cords, jeans, turtlenecks, and t-shirts are a little more my style. But still, if anyone's handing out the Armani or Zegna suits give me a call.

One of you has got to get famous so we can gate crash a Vanity Fair Oscar Party

My money's on dong resin.

I'd like to have a custom-made tux, a la Marlene Dietrich. But I think someone tall and glamorous, like witchstone or readymade, could pull it off better than a shortie like me or goneill.

Unless goneill sat on my shoulders and we wore one big tall suit, like they do in cartoons. That could be good.

Could. Might not.

Let me state for the record that I am anything but tall. 5 foot zero is readymade sized. I look like a fool in most fancy get-ups; the butt fits, but the legs are too long, the top fits, but the bottom doesn't...etc, ad nauseum.

But nice shoes...I can always find nice shoes in my size. I just never have anything to wear them with.

just wear the shoes then....

What I want is to set aside one month next year to have an extended 31-day orgasm, to be brought out slowly by Rosanna Arquette and that model Paulina-somebody, I can't think of her name.

In Perquackey, players try to arrange and rearrange the ten letter cubes to form as many words as possible within the available time, using only the letters on the top face of each cube.

Who knew? I'd never heard of it before.
Thanks, kaf.

I want someone to brush my rock and roll hair.

Heh. Cyrano, because that entire bit is worth repeating:

If I had one wish that I could wish this holiday season, it would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in the spirit of harmony and peace.

If I had two wishes that I could wish for this holiday season, the first would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of harmony and peace.. and the second would be for $30 million a month to be given to me, tax-free in a Swiss bank account.

You know, if I had three wishes that I could make this holiday season, first, of course, would be for all the children to get together and sing.. the second would be for the $30 million every month to me.. and the third would be for all encompassing power over every living being in the entire universe.

And if I had four wishes that I could make this holiday season, first would be the crap about the kids.. second would be for the $30 million.. the third would be for all the power.. and the fourth would be to set aside one month each year for an extended 31-day orgasm, to be brought about slowly by Rosanna Arquette and that model Paulina somebody, I can't think of her name, of course my lovely wife could come, too. She's behind me 100% on this, I guarantee you.

Wait a minute, maybe that sex thing should be the first wish! So, if I made that the first wish, because, you know, it could all go boom tomorrow, and then what have you got? No, no.. the kids singing would be great, that would be nice. No, no, who am I kidding! I mean, theyu're not gonna be able to get all those kids together! I mean, the logistics of the thing is impossible! It's mroe trouble than it's worth! So, we reorganize: here we go. First, the sex - we go with that; second, the money. No! We go with the power second, then the money, and then the kids. Oh, wait, oh geez! I forgot about revenge against my enemies! Okay.. revenge against all my enemies, they should die like pigs in Hell! That would be the fourth wish! And of course, my fifth wish would be for all the children of the world to join hands and sing in the spirit of peace and harmony.

--Steve Martin

I got a rock.

I want an adult-sized Hippity-Hop.

I saw one in the store the other day. Not an adult-sized one, but I considered buying it for myself anyway. Really.

I think it would be a glorious day when a herd of businessmen were Hippity-Hopping to work.

That comment was brought to you by Confusing Use of Tenses Theatre.

Oh, the mysql errors are gone now?

Happy day.

Naughty? Nice? I'm sorry, but when the news of the alleged existence of one jolly old elf was broken to me, I was under the impression that my actions no longer had any ramifications or consequences.

As a result, I'm expecting to receive an exquisitely tailored suit. Unfortunately, that suit will be made out of butter.

So do I perpetuate the myth or not? Does my 2-year old daughter begin life as a Santa believer with a future letdown, or does she get a cold coal lump of reality? I think I'm going to lie to her to make her happy - how moral is that? (On the other hand, i wish more people would lie to me to keep me happy)

There is no sin in lying to make children happy. I do it all the time, to wit: "Of course Daddy's not angry, pumpkin, I'm just twitching with joy! Now, get the dog's paw out of the peanut butter before I burst with happiness!"

kokogiak, I think it's ok to tell her that there's a Santa who does kind things for others, and then gradually introduce the idea that Santa is just one of the nice people who does good things for others. Until she's old enough to know that the story of Santa helps people understand the spirit of kindness, so that they learn to be kind.

This from a mom who said to her oldest son, "You think a bunny hops around town with candy and baskets for kids?? Get real!" Oy vey.

The Oscar party sounds alright, but I think we've got a better chance of one of us becoming a great novelist and then we can crash the Pulitzer party, not as glam perhaps, but i imagine the drugs are better.

I'm working on a Grammy so i can brittney kick the shit out of that Avril bitch.

... so I can see brittney kick the shit out of whoever...

... santa claus isn't real?

Hmmmm, things that I want...

For my son to grow up completely well adjusted, complete courses at a good university, rise to prominence, take over the world, and buy me a nice island somewhere. I hear the Virgin Islands are nice. ;)

But, I'd settle for a gathering of all my friends and compatriots around a Solstice fire, sharing a mug of grog and hashing out the year over a nice brie.

Also, I'd love to be able to fit back into my jeans again. I'm tired of being fat and miss going to the gym. (Ye gods, someone check my temperature, that can't have been me that just said that...)

And what Steve Martin said. :)

Yes WhatNot, there is a Santa Claus. :)

Cool, Dejah! I was just trying to explain the "Yes, Virginia" story to my husband this past weekend. I will pass on the link.

btw, I read that story you linked to on your weblog--the one about the substitute teacher who told all the kindergartners that Santa wasn't real--I just wanna sock her.

what's up with filepile linking to me. who here is responsible?

goneill, I get the same link sometimes, I think it's just where they were before us, or a fluke or something.

so, who here is responsible?

also, i want a bridge game. yes, a little hand-held bridge game. that and better more reliable drug dealers.

...better more reliable drug dealers.

Whatchoo need, yo...

I don't think you could really call any of us responsible. Probably, the best you can say is that now and then we have the semblance of accountability. But responsible?

I doubt it.

*takes 2 hour, 6 martini lunch*

...

I think the whole charm of drug dealers is that they are completely unreliable.

As a rule of thumb, you should make sure your drug dealer is:

1 - All dressed in black
2 - has Dior shoes
3 - has a big straw hat
4 - is never early, but in fact always late

Man, my grammar sucks lately. And my grampa ain't doin' so well either.

AHAHAHAHAHA

*WARNING: Lyrical Nitpicking*

"The Man" he is waiting for is in fact wearing "PR Shoes" aka "Puerto Rican Fence Climbers" a mildly politically incorrect term for the pointy toed leather shoes popular among urban hipsters around the Velvets era. That's what the lyrics book said anyway.

Yes, I'm a geek.

My experience with drug dealers for, say, the last decade or so, has been limited to pharmacies. They are reliable, never wear black, and probably do not know the lyrics to "Waiting for the Man."

Unfortunately.

Hey. Good catch there, Jon. I have been mishearing that lo these many years.

Hey, tizzie, take a walk on the wild side...

Doo, Doo-Doo, Doo, Doo-Doo..

so, who here is responsible?
oh no, you're right - it's me.

aaargh.

You have no idea how badly I want to post the kottke/helping hand monkeypicture to the latest MetaTalk thread. Do I get points for good restraint?

Bananas, even?

You know which one I mean. But for those who forget.

Didn't he make that pic himself?

I thought it was jpolous. Still, I know posting monkey stuff to the blue and grey can be considered bad form...

How y'all doin, anyway? Long time, no screech.

*Screeeeeech*

Yeh, good to hear from you, Adam.

Got a big holiday season planned?

This cracks me up:

Like a who's who of 9622.

that sort of drug dealer might be charming if you didn't actually want your drugs.

the best type of drug dealer is a father who is trying to make money to put his kids through college, and never touches the stuff.

there is a lovely pot delivery service that sends cute boys over to your house with good stuff.

that was evil, no?

Pot delivery service?

Time for me to move to the City.

it's color coded.

cute indie rock boys on bikes.

Yeah, can I get a pack of Marlboro Lights, a turkey sandwich with mustard, cheddar, lettuce & tomato, um, a Playboy, a Diet Coke, uh a bag of Doritos, the regular kind none of that Cooler Ranch shit, wait, we'd better make that two bags, plus some of those donut holes, you know those? and oh, and a dime bag? Thanks, dude! Can you get it here in like 10 minutes?

Got a big holiday season planned?

eh, not much. same old. ya know, drowning people in egg nog, hanging people from barbed wreaths, that kind of stuff.

girl, that is soooo last season.

we're trying to lure brittney to NYC. ssssshhhhhhh

I got that pic from Kottke's site. I only added the caption that accompanied it in the thread.

OMG, pot delivery? I'm so moving out of the suburbs! Oh, wait...I'm not supposed to do drugs now. Well, poop.

Yes, Mama Dejah, I'm afraid poop is it. Several times a day, at least. Ah, the joy.

Remember kids, Wednesday is Dollar Doobie Day!

*gazes in fatherly fashion, refrains from touching the stuff, fluffs out giant bag to hold all the money*

I dunno abou that dejah, I hear Vicks Vap-O-Rub packs quite a buzz...

Oh, wait...I'm not supposed to do drugs now.

Hmmm. You probably need to change your nickname. At your house the only person who'll have the munchies at 4:20 is little Tommy.

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