Team Tizzle

NOTE: You probably know of this website I’m about to refer you to if you are actually someone who bothers to read this.

A person who I am secretly and intimately involved with as his facial hair stylist has a website on which he posts links to his friends’ websites/blogs and short films done by a circle of friends I happen to barely be involved with. This fine, fictional Civil War general’s name is Poo Poo “Zach” Broussard. I encourage you to visit TeamTeam and check out the newest short short, “First Date,” posted on the front page. If you enjoy it you’ll probably want to check out the rest of the website and watch everything else.

There is also ZachTheSquare which is Zach’s personal site on which he tells Boudreaux and Thibodeaux jokes. I mean, stories of life in the Big Apple (NY, NY).

Zonday + Mayer = <3

Yeah, I know. The Chocolate Rain thing is so0o0o0o 2-4 months ago; however, this is by far my favorite remix.

1GB 20 years ago and 1GB now [PIC]

Thought this was cool. From Digg.com.

read more | digg story

Friday Limerick: Part 1 of XX

There once was a singer named Bob
Whom Rodney will see and then sob
His boss was irate since no lattes were made
And now he is out of a job

9/27/07: or, the Day that the White Elephants Appeared

Ah, yes. Blogs. Web logs. Cell phones. IPhones. XBox. Sex Box?

DEAR JOURNAL…

TODAY I awoke with a feeling. Not a new feeling but a feeling. I opened my heavy eyes and made my hands into fists and curled them up which tightened my forearms. This is when I began to have the feeling I mentioned earlier. I felt my forearms continue to tighten more and more; they tightened more than I had intended them to. I suppose that it was the equivalent of a “charlie horse” felt in the legs. My eyes began to water which caused the dried up sleep in my eyes to irritate the sensitive surface of my eyeballs and so I began to tear up even more which worsened the situation. About twenty minutes later I am wearing boxer shorts and a large bath robe from Target. I am squirming in a chair at my kitchen table drinking coffee out of a large white mug that says “GOOD MORNING” on it in large black letters. Today will be a good day.

As I walked outside I frowned when I saw that the dew on the grass had made the bottoms of my pants damp. “I suppose my ankles will feel wet every time I sit down in a chair and the bottoms of my pants press against them,” I thought. I felt the heat and awkward smell rise up from the asphalt street outside of my house and thought, “today will be a glorious day.”

It was. And so I walked back inside and was content.

The Procrastination of Stination: or, Dancing with the Stars on Mars

Stination idly idled as he stared at an upside down poster of a low-resolution, slightly blurry-faced depiction of an old philosopher reading a book of jargon (Plato). After he was done doing that he wrote thusly…

“Timothy idly idled as he stared at an upside down poster of a low-resolution, slightly blurry-faced depiction of an old philosopher reading a book of jargon (Plato).”

He sat back and smiled at the absurdity of it all and didn’t feel hungry, which was a relief. Usually at times like these he would become hungry and then, well, any hope of productive and slightly creative writing was lost to the endless need to satiate what Des Cartes would call our material requirement of sustaining existence.

The motivation of Stination began. Slowly. “I could really get a lot done right now. Yes, a lot. I’d better get it all done then. Now is the best time for doing it all. Waiting for another now would be pointless because I would, without a doubt, regret wasting the now that is now.” Of course, Stination began to write. And he wrote thusly…

The role of the writer in this new and confusing 21st century ruled by up-and-coming LA chic nightclubs not in LA is a difficult one to play. How I wish that I, Stination, could have been born in 19th century Europe and had the opportunity to mingle with the likes of Coleridge and have intimate, opium-induced nights with him speaking of things like words and nature. We would have had such a grand time criticizing Byron and fantasizing about what the Revolution could have REALLY been. ‘Le sigh,’ a famous animated animal once wisely said.

He sat back and smiled at the absurdity of it all and felt hungry, which was a relief.