Well, it sure does feel good to bat the dust off the cover of good 'ole trogjam. Though R and I many miles apart and many miles away from Wilson Hall and Human Sexuality (the birthplace of TROG), I can't help but to have my thoughts drift back to that place. This is clearly a flowery way of saying the following: pregnant man. Pregnant man, pregnant man, pregnant man. Time for some bullet points on this topic.

- A woman feels like a man trapped in the wrong body.
- Said woman has breasts chopped off.
- Said woman takes hormones.
- Said woman does not have who-ha modified, because said woman wants to have a baby. But said woman is now said man, but said man with intact who-ha and excessive amounts of testosterone.
- Enter new puzzle piece. http://www.behav.org/00gallery/ecol/carniv_hyena_penis_clitor.gif
- Said man can now have sex with his said wife with this new instrument, and as stated on Oprah (which makes it truth) "he can truly please her." This would be akin to being fingered with someone's pinky, but not.
- Said man's wife can have children, but said man (who was once Miss Hawaii) wants to procreate (the entire reason for not having who-ha altered)and produce, PUN INTENDED,a Daddy's girl.
-Said man gets hooked up with some sweet sperm, since neither man nor wife can produce this commodity that financial analysts and frat boys alike discard daily every morning, late morning, mid afternoon, late afternoon, early evening, and bedtime.
- Said man conceives, carries child to term, and has baby.
- Wash, rinse, repeat. The pregnant man is, you guessed it, pregnant again.

T of TROG

No...This first entry or shall I say re-entry into the world of TROG won't be littered with my musings on politics, SP, BO, or any other nonsense, that quite frankly, I don't give a shit about at this point. Let us all celebrate the birthday (belated , to be noted) of this wonderful forum of ridiculousness. It is true that T and I live in different places, and life isn't like the DCOM (Kelly made me watch it) "Wish Upon a Star," but I felt a resurrection of this unit could provide wonders for all.

First of all, I wonder what Melinda-Jo is doing right now. You see, Melinda is in a relationship with Michael Cera (Arrested Development) right now, and she slips her long, Melinda (toad to be sure) tongue out at anyone who tries to jump on their lilypad. Scary thing indeed I am afraid. Come to think of it, it does recall that of Mae Whitman's Ann Veal. Indeed, and how? Needless to say, I don't really care about this anymore. I am as far away from that pond now, and hopefully global warming may flood it one day. Apparently the Maldvives is gonna have to evacuate soon because of the ocean rises.

Second of all, My place of living is centrally located for all things tweak. I live by all of the dankest places that could ever suit your epicurious nature, particularly if you choose a different sort of metric to apply the "distance." Heartburn and Salathai levels of these establishments are off the charts; several 24 hour Mexican Cantinas, a McDonald's, A Thai eatery, and every WASP's favorite vendor- A liquor store. I find myself tweaked by the general milieu of the neighborhood still, but I love it. It is always ripe for exploring, which is one of my favorite things to do, and there is always something/ someone to see (gender unknowns, bitter teen bitties on the train, EMOs, Mos, and all of the other riffraff, including my new favorite bum, Clarice, who glues trash on her arms to stay warm and told me she wears "blline peepah's glatheth to get an estra nicko when's I need it,"; I give her a cigarette every time I see her at the Blue Chicago Stop)

Lastly, Sena told me how much of a klepto she used to be. She once told T and I that she would steal everything she could find when she was drunk; statuary, food, other people's drugs, walkers, golf carts, poster, paintings, furniture, canes, glasses, and most importantly, more booze. How ridiculous, though I must say I may have taken more than my fair share of the aforementioned in the past.

Have a great Scatty evening, and Welcome back, old friend!

R of TROG

Green Corps. They came again. Yes, they came again with the same shtick that was utilized to get people to join the Heaven's Gate Cult. You Remember that one, right? The leader of that one looked like the love child of Ross Perot and Janet Reno. He claimed that when Hale Bopp came, he and his friends needed to feed themselves arsenic, and somehow all of them were goona leave La Jolla and get onto a UFO with Jesus...My sister's friend Emily has the craziest WASP mom I have ever made.

Here is what happens to WASPs when they are inbred:
a. They get divorced
b. They then join a cult in Roswell and move out their
c. the patriarch of the family informs the ex-husband that it is his duty to rescue (Susan, Emily's mom) and remarry her
d. They find her leaving in a mud hut and smoking peyote with the Navajos (nudist colony, read on)
e. They remarry and have genetic abnormalities for children (Emily)
f. They get divorced again and mom starts dating a woman named Sam from Evanston


I cannot even tell you how many times I have heard and reviewed this story. WASPs are the most dysfunctional of any ethnic group (if you could call it that).

As for the ideal review:


Liza with a Z Set
-It was a good time
-Mammy
-Liza with a Z
-Cabaret Medley
-I Gotcha

I'm gonna pack my Life Up and Take it To The Road
-Broadway
-Smiles
-The Strong Woman Song
-Man Song
-Read my Fire and My Flame

Wild Party
-Queenie Was A Blonde
-Raise The Roof
-Look at Me Now
-Poor Child
-Old Fashioned Love Story
-Juggernaut
-Let Me Drown
-Make Me Happy

Into The Woods
-Opening
-Witch's Rap
-On the Steps of the Palace
-Hello, Little Girl
-Justifies The Beans
-Moments In the Woods
-Children Will Listen



You can more or less fill in the slots with whatever sort of songs you would like. I don't know if there should be any other contributions, but this is where I am at now. The Mary McGregor Musical sounds particularly enlightening for me emotionally right now. I think this could be fun for the emotionally charged...I dunnooooo....Its Just Theory Based.


That is All

R of TROG

There are a number of things that need to be discussed right now.

1.) Last night I went to the CMA’s. I was just feet away from such celebs as Jessica Simpson, Nicole Kidman, Carrie Underwood, Reba, and my favorite Kate Walsh. Kate was literally 4 feet away from me. As I told my “hos in tow” that I was ready to be that girl. I said that if Kate Walsh stood in front of us that I was going to run up to her and grab her. I knew I would be looking at jail time, but I would also forever be “that girl” who ran up and grabbed Kate Walsh during the CMAs. I would likely receive fan mail in my cell and my hos said they would take my purse back to my apartment. Everything happened so fast and needless to say I was unable to be that girl but I considered throwing my shoe at her and then claiming it fell off. I don’t know. I love Kate Walsh.

2.) During the last acceptance speech by Kenny Chesney I kept hearing someone weeping and screaming out of happiness for Kenny. I was like who is this batshit crazy ho behind me? I then turned around to see my high school Creative Writing teacher, Pantekat, was the subject of my thoughts. Just to fill you in, Pantekat graduated early from college and taught high school seniors. We saw her out at bars, concerts, clubs, etc. Anywhere that it might be awkward for her to be - she was there. And the tradition lived on last night. She is also on Friendster. Her interests are writing centers, my family, friends, Cyprus, reading, music, travel, and red wine.

3.) My boyfriend is named Evan Leitner. There is also an Evan Leitner at Yale. This has made for a number of mixups, but the most exciting happened recently. My best friend, Fannie, worked with a prominent movie director/producer’s (cough: Steven Spielberg) son. Fannie and I did some FB stalking of his son (who obviously had a blocked profile) but Fannie is too much of a black cat to friend him. But things happened, the tides changed, the planets aligned, and he friended Evan! Things always work out the way they should.

4.) Finally, the boy from my high school who used to the star in all of the shows, who was quite the heartthrob, who one of my friends may or may not have lost her V-card to is, drum roll please, out of the closet. And he came out to one of my coworkers in New York who I didn’t even know knew him. It’s not all that surprising, it’s just amazing.

That’s all for now, but as always – I still have a lot of thoughts.

T of TROG

First Thought: Okay. We can officially talk about the Cold War. I mean, when are we really aloud to talk about cold wars and when are we not. Did they talk about the "cold war" in the 50s. My intitial reaction would be yes, so I guess thats the way it is. In anycase, many in the Vanderbilt Media sought to replay my comments, which are much akin to Churchill's years ago, as a ridiculous metaphor from the crypts of my brain. Not so. The Cold War has been launched, and they players are known and willing. I seek my own protection from the gyres and flows of untruths and harmities that keep occuring. It is all very theoretical, justifying my vagueness. All I know is that the booms of the c4 chords playing over and over again did not cease the untuned action that followed not long after. I hear those booms, and try and find the proverbial correct key, and its nowhere, well at least not for some people. I wish I could hear those champagne corks, but I won't hang my head over the Belcourt for it. Thats for sure.

New Thought: I believe that the hot dog stand in front of Subways is a drug operation. Its just a front, though I have heard that their hot dogs are pretty scrumptious. Pot mustard or ketchup could be pretty tasty. I am even more sure now that I am correct about this. I wonder how much he charges. Digression. I think I need to start talking in strange metaphor

Last Thought: I have decided this weekend I am going to do something crazy. I have not had an improvisational journey with fun and craziness. T and I vote for something new and exciting needs to take place. The Dykemans got divorced. No really, they got a divorce. But this is gonna be a short entry because I am trying to redicover my own new TROG.

(1999)Ms. Carol said: "I don know what I's gonna do about dat crazy sista of yo's. I only know one thing, the day that girl get her menstra cycle, is da day I get da hell out off here!"


"I know everything, and will find out about everything."- A truly great thinker
R of TROG

One of my earliest memories of the Tampa Yacht and Country Club was when I was five years old on a typical Sunday following our time at the Hyde Park Methodist Church. When Mae, the lady who took the drink orders then and still takes them now and wears an excessive amount of gold butterfly pins, came to me and wanted my drink order. I was wearing a baby blue smocked dress with a big red bow in my hair and red patent-leather shoes. I then opened my mouth and batted my big eyelasses and said in my most assertive voice, "I'll have a shirley temple - straight up." This was immediatly followed by a moment of silence where my parents did everything they could to not laugh and look dissapointed by feigning the "I don't know where went wrong" look. The silence was broken by my mother's thick southern drawl stating, "I think she means 'on the rocks'."

Welcome to my childhood.

T of TROG

R of TROG will take a hiatus until T posts.

That is all

My earliest memory of the fall rests with the Pumpkin Patch. What is a pumpkin patch? First of all, there are no operating farms in the North Shore, so I am not talking about pumpkin gathering....that's for the peasants. The pumpkin fest is a bazaar for the holiday seasons. It is hosted at The Middle School, in and around the building.
Features:

1. Numerous boutiques of spooky themed sweaters, vests, dresses, jewelry etc.
2. Hay-Rides
3. Pumpkin purchasing from the Mexicans at the end of the block.
4. Spiking the village cider with real cheer and spirits.


The night of the patch, there is another tradition in East Lake Bluff involving a ghost walk. There are numerous stories about murder and intrigue. First of all, the temperance movement (ironic) was largely started in Lake Bluff. It used to be a Methodist Playground in the summer for the wealthy Chicagoans during the summer. There were huge hotels all over our eastern part of our town. Unfortunately, all of the buildings burned down in fires. All of them. No, this wasn't the Chicago Fire, so don't even try to kid yourself. Al Capone's mistress lived in my friend Tay's house, and she was a Cuban Cabana dancer. She used to store all of his alcohol on the way for it to be moved to the East. Additionally, there were some Wiccan Lesbians who used to kill cats on Scranton. Still not kidding. However, the best part of the walk has to be the Matt Russell skit I saw 4 years ago. Matt was singing in some sort of tribute band with his tool friends. I'm pretty sure that Matt and T and some of his other friends sang "You Got A Friend," but one cannot be sure. Anyway, the hallmark story of our town is the infamous murder that took place over 60 years ago. She was found murdered in the basement of our Town Hall.

The Newspaper on October 30, 1928 read: 29 year-old Elfreda Knaak is found close to death in the Village Hall basement near the boiler. She died 3 days later and an investigation into the murder followed. The case has never been solved.

We do know that she was fighting with her boyfriend, and the mystery still remains unsolved.

Lake Bluff's quaint farmer's markets on Fridays are fun as well: you can buy groceries, produce, or even your favorite kind of greens, what a great day.

Other thoughts as I sit in the most boring class ever today. Donald Hancock seems to be on his last legs. Watching him get up to go to to the whiteboard is like watching Liza Minelli trying to get though a day without a percoset or cigarette: in fact I'm pretty sure that they both had the same kind of surgery.

I have always wondered what the hell he has done in his whole life. Aside from his obsession for German-Catholic Center-Right Scholared European Confederal Diplomats, I know very little except that he used to live in Germany. I'd like to think he has a wife name Bertha who cooks him canned beans and sausages while he indulges his love of Goethe. I could totally be wrong.

Wow, this post just keeps getting more theoretical, that it is becoming almost lagniappe in quality. I just changed the title of the entry so that lagniappe is the title; I will never tell you the original title.

Other thoughts for the day: A recipe, from my kitchen, to yours. (Paula Dean)

1/2 to 1 oz of fresh greens.
1 lb of fat (oil, butter etc.)

Grind your greens up o they look like a pile of green snow. Hell, it should have been included in the recipes for Green Eggs and Ham. Pour them into a saucepan with your oil, and gradually heat the mixture to 200 degrees fahrenheit. Do not let it boil at all, or you will destroy the goodness. Let it sit at this temperature for at least half an hour. Than Cool the mixture and strain the butter from the oil and enjoy.

Off to the rest of the day. I will get drunk tonight. I will be dressed up as a cracked out dalmatian.

PS. The e-mail I received last night was sooooo ridiculous. I read it and was reminded of a person from my past, and I am pretty sure it was Jeffery Dahmer, or Ellie Burghard?

That is all


R of TROG

I have some thoughts for the world today. I remember a time when my dad bought a vacuum cleaner at Circuit City. It did not work at all. We left it in the parking lot at a K-Mart in Waukegan. I thought it was really funny.

And now for the best part of the story: The Aunt Patty Chronicles...

1. Aunt Patty had consumer her usual 4 or 5 vodkas before dinner. She began consuming massive quantities of wine, and went through her usual shaky motions through my kitchen. She asked me all about college life, before we headed into the dining Room. Thus the conversation of "the Jews" begins. I know I egg her on, but Aunt Patty eviscerated Lois Lieberman, her evil boss at the Williams Sonoma, who is a cold, gaudy, nightmare who complains and never shuts up with her communist politics. She shook her hands and went into her usual chianti driven tantrums about the Democrats, and then I ask her who if Matt Lauer is Jewish. She turns to me, and in a sardonic tone, states in clear alto, "he's one of them, one of those people..."

2. We are driving after the Race For The Cure in downtown Chicago with my Mother, AP, and my friend Taylor. We drive by Robert Morris College, an inner city college in the south underbelly of the loop of Chicago. It is primarily advertised for minority students. Aunt Patty notices the college and remarks to the car, "That is where they put the blacks."

3. Ring Ring goes my phone in the morning. AP had been at her Lady's Golf Tournament in Winnetka when she received the bad news. I received AP's call after a night of drunken debauchery and heard her vermouth-laced voice. "I have heard that your father's new girlfriend doesn't serve alcohol at family gatherings. This is stupid, stupid, stupid! (with three head sakes I'm sure to each side). I am not going to some evangelical, Jesus fest." I stammer at a response, and remark to her that I think Nancy would not be at our house for Thanksgiving, and that Christmas was entirely being celebrated by us. Then Aunt Patty says, "If I would have needed to, I would have found a way to sneak it in, and I wouldn't get caught like Nana did when she stuffed her cigarettes in her walker and smoked them in the powder room."

Now let me say that my aunt's best friend is in fact Jewish, and that often my aunt has said that she finds "blacks delightful." In any case, she is ridiculous and may last another 30 years due to the preservation from Bombay and Belvidere.

One more short anecdote: Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.

Did I mention that AP is ADPi?


R of TROG

RIP Anna Nicole

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8yms577i-s&eurl=http://perezhilton.com/?paged=2

R of TROG

So Marty thinks that T has Jewish eyes. I have no idea, and I don't want to go there. Carrot, in fact. That is all.

2nd. Do you think it is possible to have an eye disease after smiling too much. I have a friend that has a smiling problem that causes her to blink frequently and have societal dispositions. They happen, sometimes, I guess.

The Richard Bay Show was a program in the 90s on UPN power 50 that my dad and I used to watch. They always have at least 4 little people per show, and frequently cutting edge. It was like the prequel to the Surreal Life, only it was a talk show. I always wanted to be on it. Other shows I used to watch when I was fat in the 90s include: Supermarket Sweep, Shop til You Drop, and Saved By the Bell. I remember during my fat stages I used to fill up a mixing bowl with cereal and milk and watch these shows with my Jehova's Witness nanny, Carol, and then I would later sneak two pop tarts into the basement without her seeing. Consequence of caught proverbial hand in the cookie jar- staring at a wall for ten minutes along with the rest of the black kids....never a good situation.


Texarkana is the biggest shithole in the civilized, western world. We stayed in the Country Host Motel: 45 dollars per night. We found extraneous clothes in the room that were not there before we got there. No comment. Additionally, we trashed the room rock-star style. done. We also got drunk in a tweak. Speaking of tweaks, last night I found one. I thought that T was tweaking me out with our spaghetti orders last night. Will Silas stay with Tara. Questions are burning my mind, along with stream of consciousness, and I am no longer capable of knowing where Sigourney Weaver lunches in Salt Lake. Bill Clinton played the saxophone, and Paula Jones. Arkansas is a place to put people you no longer want to see (Semi-Moronic Lamda Alphas {Brave New World}) I don't know where I am, or where I have gone.

Final Thoughts: This group in front of me looks like a traveling circus in the early 20s. I see a little person, the bearded lady, sasquatch, a mo, and ho. The little person particularly looks like the product of Beau and Eli......ie....An escaped extra gnome from the Lord in the Rings thrillogy. Ok...this one girl legit looks like an Oompa Loompa...at least my holidays will be happy. Utter....this kid does look like Beau and Eli's child, and I wonder if he can put on black face and perform a minstrel show....he would if he was still in the circus.


Happy Wednesdays

R of TROG

From The O.C. to THIS????

Career suicide!

For some inexplicable reason, Mushy Fartone (Mischa Barton) decided to make a movie with those faux Russian lesbians t.A.T.u..

Why????

The description of the film: “Two teenage girls, Janie who is American and Lana who is Russian, fall in love after meeting at a t.A.T.u concert and are swept into a dangerous world of obsession, drug abuse and murder.”

Classic!

Click here to watch an almost 4 minute long preview of Finding t.A.T.u..

This shiz is so bad! We may have a new camp classic on our hands!

From- Perez Hilton


Sounds Amazing


R of TROG

The offer:

1. $450/week
2. Liberalism enriched by the highest ignorant levels of "progressive" ideals
3. Save people from getting bed-bumps, so they can pick-up their children

Marty and my question is whether or not they have a group that runs against their propositions? Unions are an idea, just like living wage. Ideas that if implemented violate other people's rights to a fair wage (theory=theoretical.) Besides this, the lady presenter looked like she hadn't gotten laid in years, if ever. Her name was McKenzie, she looked like a Vassar grad. who experimented with lesbiterianism her senior year witha butch named Lacy with a buzzcut, cargo pants, and a shirt that says, "Butch."

A scene in class at Vanderbilt:

A group of 5 frat guys, wearing Pola, Burberry, or La Coste polos, Rainbow Sandals or boat shoes, and some form of khaki short- wow that acknowledges a lot of the stereotypes I associate with Vanderbilt. This is so friggin ridiculous cuase it means that stereotypes are justified. Lol......

I think the photographer is taking pictures of my class for a Jihad video. I mean, who can you trust during these times...and the Bush economy...utter....thats what happens when you have a black sheep in a WASP family that becomes a born-again. I will agree with Marty in my stream of consciousness, he looks high and he lives in my building- cocaine. I mean who knows.

Bla Bla Bla. Thats all I am hearing right now (Spring Awakening).

One more story:

A scene in Philadelphia in Nov.2 of 2000:

My dad was on Business in Philadelphia when he saw a black pregnant woman in a 7-11. She had just been telling the guy in the front that somebody paid her 10 bucks to vote again in the election. My dad then watched her walk to the aisle containing profilactives. She proceeded to steal several boxes of condoms and other barrier methods, stuffing them into her shirt. I just don't know.

Remember,

Don't eat in the yellow snow

R of TROG

I have decided to return to my past once more to reflect on the story of Elvilda. To be fair, it really isn't my past. Its my father's, so I will tell the tale of Elvilda.

My father and his first wife had my sister, Sena, in 1966. They lived in the charming hamlet of Skokie, a suburb of Chicago populated with Eastern European immigrants, Koreans, Jews, and BBD. He was fairly isolated in this community. Now my father and his wife hired a black nanny, named Elvilda. Elvilda was 6 ft. tall, built like a militarized version of a planter's peanut man. She weighed 220 lbs., frequently muttered strange utterisms to herself that my father barely noticed, and ruled with an iron fist. One day 8 years into her tenure, around Christmas, Elvilda went shopping on State Street in downtown Chicago. She was on the street, when a man grabbed her purse and sprinted up the crowded road. Elvilda, in a fit of pure rage, chased him and tackled him down in the street and proceeded to try and convince a cabby to run him over and crush his "man parts."

Elvilda was forced to move into a mental health institute in the city after trying to beat up the cops and her frequent talks with Sammy Davis Jr. and Kunta Kinte. Some years later my father turned on the television before his morning commute to see a headline: CBS 2 is reporting that an inmate at a mental hospital, Elvilda Thomas, has released all of the other patients from their straight jackets and confines into the streets of the south side.

My father doesn't know what ever happened to Elvilda when she escaped. Most of the patients were indeed caught, including Elvilda. I always wondered if she moved somewhere, if she ever got out, or got arrested doing something crazy later on. I think she may have moved back to Georgia to the plantation she claimed she worked on. She always tried to convince my dad that she was Harriet Tubman in her earlier life, my dad didn't know who that was. Perhaps Elvilda was involved with Miss Cleo; my dad said she looked just like her and that she always spoke in a Jamaican accent when she talked to herself. Who knows? Any other theories?

Anyway, somebody puked in my bathroom on Friday and I want to know who did it. Tell me. I will find you. I will scare you. I will tell Elvilda on you. She will kick yo lily white ass. I will tweak you. Utter. Utter. Utter.


That is All

R of TROG

"I be is watchin you...."

Cipro. What?

R of TROG

"It clowed. It clowed." Do I really need to give money to every homeless dude I meet on the street. I have realized that there are certain parts of my heritage I choose to acknowledge, others I'd rather not. Cocktail hour always starts at the end of afternoon activities of physical nature. Cocktails may always continue throughout the day, but cocktail hour is cocktail hour. Everyone drinks at the club, and you should look the part. These are good aspects.

Other thoughts:
Find feelings in emotions.

Fall Break is coming, along with other momentous occasions.

R of TROG

So I just was reminded of some past ridiculous events of my life, that I wish to share with you.


Story A:
One day my friend Taylor and I were driving back from Starbucks with my mom when we noticed a crow sweeping in on a baby chipmunk. My mother, being the radical gypsy lady that she was, drove her QX4 onto our lawn to head off the crow. Upon stoppng the car and examining the damge, we noticed the chipmunk was on its last moments of its life. We tried to stop the bleeding, but the thing was knocked unconscious. The chipmunk died not long after. In typical WASP fashion, Taylor and I took a bottle of Belvy, a shovel, and a pack of stolen Marlboros to my backyard to have a sort of memorial.

Story B:
A certain friend of mine and I once saved a possum in my basement against my own wishes during a rainstorm. The critter was uber tweak, and we were worried that Jackson would try and eat it. He didn't, but I think a coon might of got to it. Just a theory.

Story C:
Grandma loved her drink. My last memory of her was watching her sneak wine into her Guava Juice Tumbler she took with her everywhere. She had that wristlet when she was protesting the war in Iraq with the BABs (Butches against Bush) with my lesbian aunts. No, I already know that story was ridiculous, but its just as true as my cousin falling into a ditch in the O'Okala gully. True story. La, it still isn't funny :)

I hope you enjoyed those stories. I have been thinking about what spiritual kitsch could mean, but I am just not sure. Any suggestions? My belly has been aching but tomorrow is the next day for me emotionally. And speaking of lesbians, I will never watch the L word again, it wasn't hot or sexual. I was expecting something a little more explosive. It was just weird. T liked it though. Tomorrow is Weeds Monday (insert sign here) and probs. another night of weekly debauchery. Be a pal, fuck a friend. Just a thought, a notion. Lesson 1: make an impact. My neck cricks if I write anymore and I just need to take some time to reflect, theoretically.

Fellowship and Folly
R of TROG

Thought 1: Flip This House and Flip That House are two separate shows. What? Why would two separate networks air a show about the exact same premise, let alone the exact same name? I mean, each one has a different article that are both four letters long, but still.

Thought 2: We have always been told to drink what you know. Drinks I know - all kinds of red wines (preferably pino noirs), rupplemints, blue moon, and my true love, any kind of champagne. That Jager shot may look tempting, but you just don't know it. That blue martini could take you to the good place, but it most likely will take you to the bad place. Thus, don't drink it: drink what you know. But Lauren just took this to a newer place, a fresher place: fuck what you know. The thought of making shirts that say "be a pal, fuck a friend" was even just proposed. But let's really think about this. If we were all to fuck what know don't you think the rates of sexually transmitted diseases would go down? Possibly even unwanted pregnancy? Fucking what you know means that people will fuck under more safe condtions with covenats of trust and understanding. And if that is not true, at least this way you're sure to get a phone number at the end of the night.

Thought 3: This thought reminds us to always remember the four corners of emotion. Go to your corner, see who's there, make a friend. And if that friend is something "you know" you make even take them home and touch them in the no-no place. The four corners of emotion really work. On Friday, for instance, there were a few people sitting in the "angry corner." The night ended with those people getting into a fist fight remeniscent of a scene from some 1987 independent film that made it to Sundance but never made it into theaters. Had we only seen the signs beforehand! We could have moved people out of that corner - possibly even toyed with their emotions for a bit. But if nothing else, we could have at least ended the night with a scene from a movie that actually made it into theaters and was filmed around 2004. The four corners of emotion never lie.

Thought 4: You've got to have an appe-teaser. Or an any-tiser as they now advertise on TV. Pizza Hut now has a number of dank dishes available to you in your local supermart freezer section. All you have to do to have their imatation chicken "bufallo minis" now is simply pop them in the microwave at your leisure. Why would anyone buy a frozen meal with a name that some sorority girls came up with at a weekly happiness meeting. An ANYTISER? Reeeeaaalllllyyyy.... Call me when you're serious.

I charge you to carry these thoughts with you throughout your Monday tomorrow. These thoughts may make the "Monday blues" will sail right away.

T of TROG

Its a world of laughter, but it is also a world of tears. I know it is kind of melancholy and the spirits of my previous journals are whispering in my ears. La says no more to this shit. So just remember life passes you by and you should just connect and spritualize yourselves. I was pained tonight by Melinda and her world of lilipad deception, but I will sojourn on. I always do.

On a lighter note, free yourselves. We lost tonight (correct spelling) but it will be sweet in the end. That is all left for ourselves spirtitually.


R of TROG

1. Go Vandy
2. Your gonna be a star. A star.
3. Short-term goals. Then long-term goals.
4. Homecoming 2nd Wind
5. Utter



R of TROG