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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Friday, January 06, 2006

Toasting to the New Year

It's hard to top a New Years Eve so awesome I had to bring duct tape to keep my face from getting rocked right off. Any time you kick off a brand spankin new year seeing a Johnny Cash cover band in a place riddled with more than one ten gallon hat and several bartenders that call you 'darlin', you just know in your drunken, drunken heart that every day simply can't be this awesome. Last night was the first disappointment of 2006 and while I try to measure my life in love and not in moments of heart-crushing dispair, it's hard not to feel wounded when a film named Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator makes me feel like this kid:

Here's the real clencher: NOBODY gets stuffed in the incinerator...not one. single. person. In place of all the red-hot incinerator-on-person action you can handle, you get long-winded dialogue about things that are not incinerating and a plot that's supposed to be high concept.
On a totally unrelated note, why, when you google search "crying boy," do you get this picture:

What in the world is that? It's like a high school art project gone demonic. Who took the time to turn Macauley Culkin into a creepy weeping Lite Brite statue thing? I want someone to fess up here because a little piece of my soul just died.

On that note, I hope your New Year has been incineratingly good and not Lite Brite Culkin-level bad. Here's to 2000 friggin 6.


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