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Thursday, April 19th, 2007
9:43 am - Batman lives.
So, I was thinking about planning a pretty ass kickingly awesome roadtrip across the middle of America sometime in the summer to partake in my most favorite of sports:  Baseball.  Unfortunately, baseball doesn't plan its schedules with roadtrips in mind, because my ultimate goal of seeing a game in St. Louis, Kansas City, Minneapolis and Milwuakee without a week of downtime was logistically impossible.  So I shifted my eyes westward.  San Diego has a ball park.  So does Anaheim.  And Los Angeles.  Oooh..  And San Francisco and Oakland.  I got to schedule checking.  Neither San Diego or San Francisco's schedules would print.  As I was hand writing San Diego's, I noticed that Philadelphia would be in the Sunny City the 19th through the 21st of July.   I wrote out San Francisco's.  They play the 23rd-28th.  This might work! I checked all of the schedules and came up with the following itinerary.  15th in San Francisco.  16th in Oakland.  Drive south the 17th, Dodgers on the 18th.  19th in San Diego.  20th-21st messing around in San Diego, maybe more Phillies games.  22nd, fun day.  23rd, in Anaheim.  THEN.  I thought I'd check the Comic Con Dates, because it seemed like it should be close.  AND IT IS!  It's the next weekend.  So I revised the trip (which I never would have been able to do in the dumb belt) and decided that I'd come in on the 17th, hit the dodgers/phillies on the 18th, the padres/phillies on the 19th, take a day off to drive north, athletics/orioles on the 21st, take a day to enjoy the city by the bay, then see the giants trounce the braves on the 22nd.  I'd take another day to drive back south, or take a train, I don't know what would be easier/better, more research must be done, and see the angels/athletics on the 25th.  AND THEN I'D BE IN SAN DIEGO TO LOOK AT SOME COMIC BOOKS. 

Let me know if anybody wants to tag along for any parts of the journey. 

It's still fairly preliminary.

current mood: chipper

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Sunday, January 1st, 2006
8:57 pm - I neglect you all.
Because of this.

I don't know how to turn a link off. It just keeps being a link until I'm done typing. So this entire thing is going to be linking you to a game I play. I've tried to push it before, but not too seriously, but now, there's money on the line. Click the link, make a card. Make a card for someone you don't know, make a hundred cards, I don't care, just use this linked paragraph. Use fake emails, it doesn't check. 3fred@aol.com will be fake, fred.3@aol.com is fake. Aol accounts can't start with numbers, nor can they have periods. or underscores. Fake 'em out like that. You have to fill the whole card out to count. So use a fake email address for your email address, and use 3 fake email addresses when you mail it out.

I don't expect any of you to play this game, just take 10 minutes out of your day and sign up. Nothing ties you if you use a fake email address. Nothing really ties you if you don't use a fake email address. Have fun with it though. Make a card for your favorite unh character. Make a card for the Dead Fat Elvis. I don't care. Have some fun. If I win the whole thing, it's 2,700 bucks. I like to share.

The game's fun, but frustrating. You can cheat to win. I did. If you have a boring office job, it's a great time waster.

Obi Wan, you're our only hope.

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Wednesday, March 30th, 2005
8:49 pm - Guilt trip, Mofo is thy name.
So I kinda gave up on livejournal, and i posted this to some sort of rival site. Mofo called me a traitor, so I'll share it with youse.

I'm proud.

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Tuesday, March 29th, 2005
2:15 am - AARON

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Saturday, March 5th, 2005
10:33 pm
so, i'm enraged! :D

current mood: Pickin' on the gnome

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8:42 pm - haha. it's been a while
just posted a link to a sitcom i'm in. Thought I'd do this since i read some.

Grabbed from the 'fo.
Grabbed from Aaron.

10 Things I Done, Which You Suckas Ain't:

10. Crawled through the drainage tunnels at Millersville University.
9. Missed hitting for the cycle by one lousy single. And they walked me my last atbat.
8. Held a dying friend in my arms.
7. Broke a kid's arm.
6. Totalled two cars in three weeks; totalled one car 3 times.
5. Won three consecutive intramural championships in frisbee.
4. Fell off a waterfall.
3. Saw my aspiring christian rapper roommate standing in front of a mirror with only a shirt on. Left the room.
2. Pulled a lost boat out of a tree during a flood.
1. Did a flip over a fire; dove through a 6 foot high fire.

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8:32 pm - My name is Norman.
I am a recovering sinner, but I realize that I am put upon this earth to do nothing more than prove my worth to the almighty God. One day, should I prove my worth, I will sit upon the throne of my own universe and spread the good word from above. Thanks to my prattling neighbors, I am always given an opportunity to prove said worth and deliver upon my promise to God. If you don't believe me, watch teh freakin' movie.

Uncle Nagy's House

It's big. And you'll need to download divx. but hey. you won't have to download divx for next episode.

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Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004
12:28 am - i can't believe it.
the dumb belt voted bush again. who'd'a thunk it?

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Sunday, October 10th, 2004
5:55 pm - Wow. It's the tenth already.
So halloween is a scant 3 weeks away, and I have just begun to prepare. Every year since before I was born, my dad has crept around the house halloween night and scared the living crap out of kids. Actually, I guess he took a few years off to hold my hand through the neighborhood as a wee tot, or maybe my mom did that. In my teens, I began to help him, and now, with two of us doing the scaring, plus whatever friends I can gather, we put on a real good show. We don't scare the little kids, but we make the big kids earn their candy bars. While gathering a bunch of stuff to prepare for this year's haunting, I grabbed the tombstones that we scrawled clever little epitaphs on years ago. (clever for 10 year olds) HowEVER, one of the tombstones was blank. I don't think the epitaph was erased, but maybe there's some kinda spooky curse going on here.

Here's where I ask you, my livejournal community, to come up with the best little writing to put on this blank tombstone. At disney world i saw this one.

Here lies fred.
a big ol rock fell on his head.
now he's dead.

or something like that. not very fond of that one.

No Osama Bin Ladens, none of that. Just a clever pun of a name or something that'll get a chuckle out of the kids before i make them piss their pants.

current mood: devious

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1:06 am - haha.
I've been carrying my old bb gun around with me these last few months. I don't even know why, but it's been in the backseat of my car, and how it got there is a mystery for the ages. The other day, my dad was in the car with me and told me I could get in trouble for having it there, so I took it out. I invite cops to pull me over by holding a cell phone to my ear without talking on it, hoping they'll pull me over and attempt to give me a ticket, but then, when my phonelog said I wasn't on for hours, they'd get pissed off and maybe beat me up. Then I'd finally have something worthwhile to write in my livejournal. Oh, and I never wear my seatbelt either, anymore, because I want them to pull me over so I can tell them how unconstitutional it is, and how much it sucks that they're going to give me a ticket for not wearing my seatbelt, not talking on my cellphone and having a bb gun in my backseat. That didn't make much sense.

Regardless, I took the gun out and for the last week or so, I've been sitting on the back porch and mauling soda cans. It's good fun, and sometimes I feel like bullseye, other times i feel like ray charles. I've been using the same five cans all week, and it seems like they're nearing the end of their rope. I live in suburbia, and so my backyard, though the largest on the block, is not very big. It used to be. Then my grandmother went crazy. Now it's tiny. Anyway, as I shoot the 20 or 30 yards at the cans from the foot of my deck, all sorts of wildlife gathers around. I can't comprehend it. A squirrel will hop up on the table as the bbs whiz past his head, birds perch on the feeder, not 3 feet away. What the hell? Are all american creatures completely complacent anymore? It's not even curiosity. It's just idiocy. pump pump pump pump click whiz ping "huh? oh well, i'll just stay here" I don't get it. They run away from me, which they shouldn't be afraid of, yet they stick around when bbs are whizzing by. It's a good thing I don't really want to see how good a shot I am, or I'd line them up for a shot.

Well, today, before rushing out to give myself a half dozen blisters ripping stumps out of some old lady's front yard, I picked up my gun to take aim at the five cans once more. I maybe got three shots off, and then i hear a voice. From behind me. I thought to myself "dammit. the cops think i'm shooting some kid." But, no. It was some political minded youth trying to get me to vote. I guess he heard the pings of bb on can (because i was feeling much more bullseye than ray charles) and decided to come all the way around the house to talk to me. I told him I voted and that I worked the polls and that if he didn't mind I was in the middle of exercising my eighteenth amendment. He then said something about freedom to bear arms being the second amendment and so I told him that I wasn't drinking, was I? I think the eighteenth is the prohibition amendment. Actually, none of that happened. But it was pretty funny that he wasn't scared of the pings either. Just like a big dumb squirrel or chickadee.

Haha. I like that dirty face.

current mood: dirty

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Friday, October 8th, 2004
12:32 am - crap.
I forgot. They're building a walmart on the ruins of tenochtitlan. Is this a sign of the apocalypse? Oh, last week, before i got my nose bashed in, myself and two of my pals tried to find cool stuff floating in the flotsam that Jeanne and Ivan churned up. What we found was astonishing. It was a 30 foot long boat. Like those dragon rowing boats but for one person. I don't know what they're called. We flipped a dock off a pile of sticks and trash and used it to get out to the boat that was hanging 5 feet above the water in a tree about 15 feet out into the river. With about every bit of human ingenuity we could muster, and a little luck (i found a rope), we pulled this boat to shore and then proudly hefted it to the top of the earthen levy, locally called a dyke, and showed it off to the locals. A kid and his dad thought it was interesting, the guy that hangs out at the park and has mental problems didn't see it or know what it was i was trying to tell him, but when he saw the boat it all became clear.

"joe! i just pulled a boat out of the river!"
"a boat! see it?" i pointed to the boat.
"what's up?"
"i found a boat down in the river!"
"yeah, i know! it's huge. see it?"
We walked together, he pounded his glove. When I see him down there with his glove I stop and have a catch with him. As we approached he said
"daaaaang! look at that boat!"
"I know! that's what i was telling you about!"

Two of my friends were walking on the dyke smoking a joint or 10 and when they saw the boat, they almost had the same reaction.

Last week my town celebrated its 200th anniversary, and I ran into joe again.

me: "heyyy...joe. what's going on?"
joe: "what's going on?"
"that's what I asked you!"
"that's what I asked YOU!"
"but i asked you first!"
and then he walked away. I felt bad. I almost always feel bad for the kid.

current mood: excited

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12:12 am - phew.
There's this thing i used to be able to do with my nose. If I push on it where the cartilage meets the bone, I could make it pop, like my knuckles or my toes...or sometimes my neck. I attribute this bizarrity to when I broke my nose the first time, though my nose is pretty strange. If I pinch the same spot, I can make myself sneeze, and if I suck in really hard my nostrils collapse. Oh, so, I used to be able to crack my nose. Two weeks ago, at field day, I got my face mauled by the owner of the comic store in a game called steal the brass ring, which was a combination of football, capture the flag and steal the bacon. I stole the bacon, attempted to return it to my base, and that's when Wade introduced the football part of the game to me, bloodying my nose and dizzying me, but we won, so it was worth it.

For the better part of the week following, my nose hurt when i moved it or pushed on it, and every morning i woke up with some dried blood in it. That sucked. I thought I broke it again. Or deviated my septum. Worst of all, I couldn't crack my nose. But just now, I did. Crisis averted.

current mood: relieved

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Sunday, September 26th, 2004
9:10 pm
i hate this machine.

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Friday, September 24th, 2004
12:48 am - highlight of my night.
So, saturday's the vna fall yard sale. I pick up furniture all year for this thing, and store it in a pole barn down at the corn syrup factory i used to work at. Now, I get to lug all the couches, loveseats and other furniture from the barn to the site of the yardsale. Usually my pops helps me with this. He decided to go to florida and fight a hurricane leaving me to help the sick and disabled. The vna is the visiting nurse association, it helps people who are too sick to go to hospitals, but not ill enough to live there, i guess. Never really thought about it.

So I moved a truckload of stuff by myself. All three calls for help were shot down. My buddy Matt had his car stolen tuesday night, and after hearing tips from the neighbors, he decided to have his dad drive him around town and look for it. I called Sal, my sister's friend. He was just getting off work and wanted to shower. I don't know why you need to shower after hard work to go to hard work, but I guess I'm not one of those meteorsexuals. Then I called my uncle, but he had to bowl. Oh well. In the 45 minute window I had to move stuff, I got one load: 3 dressers, some odds and ends, a hamper and an exercise bike. Oh, and a bedframe. and a half dozen old metal runner sleds.

So it got moved, I got sweaty and then I went home and had some crazy pork chops my sister cooked up. I cooked steak for her last night, she cooked pork chops for me tonight. The pork chops were good, and filled me with the energy to work again. Out to the comic book store i went to alpahbetize a bunch of books that I'd been neglecting. They hate that. I didn't have a key, so I left with the owners at ten. Unfortunately, that meant that Jack, the 14 year old son of Tommy, partial delivery boy for his dad's Tea Pot, would come out and harass me. And harass he did. Now if you know me, you know my hat. It's on my head, and nearly always. Jack took it, He always does. He's a tyrant like that. A little golden child of dastardly deeds. He ran, I chased him. I had a root beer bottle in my hand. I tried to break it and poke him with it, but i'm just not that mean. So this little 14 year old kid is leading me on a goose chase and tells me if i hit him with the bottle again, he's going to drop my hat onto a pile of old aluminum windows in some yard i never knew was there. I call his bluff and refrain from blasting his braincase with my bottle. He then decided his best course of action was to run around the fence and into the backyard with the windows. I stared in disbelief for a few moments before taking off after him. I rounded the end of the fence and tore after him down the ramp. I almost caught him, but in my haste i failed to notice a goddamn snowplow in my way. It grabbed hold of my leg and my pantleg and ripped them both, though I'm happy to say that the pants took more damage than my leg. Unfortunately, though, clothing doesn't mend, my leg will. He looked concerned and asked how much my pants cost. I told him probably 40 bucks. He called me a liar and continued to taunt me. So as I was walking to my car to hopefully catch the end of the ballgame, he was swinging his keys at me. I gave him a quick mule kick, hitting his hand, which sent his keys into his mouth. Hahaha. Poor kid. Everybody at the store picks on him, I try to let him have a little fun. Like that kid I used to babysit said "You're always the one who hurts everyone." Jack tries his kung fu magic on me sometimes, it doesn't work. Anyway, I got into my truck just in time to hear billy wagner blow the lead and then watched teh phils win when i got home. I'm not too sure yet what the highlight of my night was, but it was either the pork chops or running into the snowplow. I love that random bizarrity, but I will miss these pants.

I don't think I'll let myself get picked on by a 14 year old anymore. I am not a victim.

Oh, and if you're in the area saturday, stop by the yard sale. And please, if you're in the area friday, help me move some stuff.

And If you're in the area Sunday, COME TO FIELD DAY!

current mood: none mood.

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Wednesday, September 15th, 2004
12:55 am - Brawlgame.
So yesterday, in Oakland, the Oakland Athletics hosted the Texas Rangers. As everyone has probably heard by now, after an altercation between fans and Texas' bullpen, one of the relievers, Frank Francisco, tossed a chair into the stands in a fit of rage. This almost reminds me of some nearly current events. Here's my take on the situation.

The fans starts hurling insults and perhaps more at the pitchers. This was over an extended period of time and built up anger on the players' side. This does not jive with current events. Next, there was some sort of fracas which led to Francisco tossing the chair into the general area of the wrongdoing, caring not whether he hits those responsible for the injustice. I'm sure all those fans look the same. He hits a lady in the face and breaks her nose. He is rightly facing criminal charges. Whatever punishment this guy gets won't be enough.

Now, it seems that another guy from Texas did something like this a couple of years ago. Granted, a whole lot more than just words were thrown, and a lot of good people lost their lives needlessly, but the response seemed to be the same. Out came the chair, and it was thrown in the general direction of evil. Nobody knew who deserved to be hit, nobody really knows who got hit. Or what condition the chair is in. For some reason, though, people support this. Instead of what could be a suspension or a lifetime ban of the individual from his profession, people are clamoring for a contract extension. What gives?

current mood: puzzled.

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Saturday, September 11th, 2004
1:57 pm - well well well.
My sister turns 21 today. Her 18th birthday got crapped on and turned into some national day of mourning, and so, for the sake of those who may be harmed and my sister, I hope nothing tragic happens today. That said, it makes me feel a bit old. However, not as old as what I've done this weekend myself. Just yesterday, after some urging from a girl at work, I joined an adult softball league. What crap is that? I told myself, all my life, that I'd never join a softball team unless I was incapable of playing full size baseball. I'm physically still capable of mashing a fastball, of turning a double play, of snapping off a curveball, though the latter sends my arm into trauma for 2 weeks or so. Now, in softball, fastballs are unheard of, curveballs are even less common, but i still have my double plays. I'm relegated to softball though, because the baseball team I played on disintegrated. I saw it coming last year, but this year, kids, women and alcohol really send the guys packing. So a switch to softball was inevitable.

Yesterday, I went up to practice and a half hour into it, i was the starting shortstop. Made me feel a little proud of my abilities. But, softball's made to do that. Baseball, they say, is a game made to humble you. Like golf, I guess. If Baseball is made to humble me, softball is the game that makes me feel like a king. And really, it should. I'll be playing on fields that I played on as an 8 year old. From the ages of 8-12, I played on a field the size I'll be playing on tomorrow morning. After a dozen years of playing on a big league sized field, I slid back to kiddie sized field yesterday and it was certainly evident. I was cutting off balls from the outfield to second base, which is pretty much a throw from shortstop to first base. Essentially, I was the second baseman getting in the way as the ball went across the infield. I'll have to learn a bit more about scaling back.

I've been working a lot at the comic store lately, alphabetizing and reading anything I can. I reread unknown soldier the other day, good stuff. I think I have a halloween costume. I read days of future past and now I'm trudging through inferno. As much as I like the characters of the X-men, these stories just have too many words. Man. Words are hard.

I'm working at a local college too, the kids just came back. Sightseeing is nice. In the spring, I get my tuition paid for and back to school I'll go. No matter what I go for, I'll have to take some undergrad courses to get me up to speed for a master's program, but it looks like counseling's the direction I'll head in. I'd love to be involved with sports, and I think if I got a job at a school as a counselor, I could give my springs to coaching baseball. I'd coach little league after that, but there're only so many hours in a day. Sorry I don't update but once a year, but there isn't a whole lot to write about. I have a pinched nerve in my neck and once every couple days or weeks I run into Meghan Ansbach and we sorta hang out. Oh, I've been playing a lot of ultimate frisbee and next sunday, I think, is the comic madness field day. If you guys are in the area, or want to be, stop by for some good, clean, dorky fun.

current mood: none mood.

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Saturday, October 4th, 2003
12:40 am - Went to a puking party.
So I did. Tim (Superheros are gay), at the comic store, when I was alphabetizing, invited me to Jon (Mr. T)'s house to watch him (Mr. T) and a smattering of other individuals drink milk until they threw up. I'd write a lot about it, but, sadly, I am tired. I got to videotape the entire thing. The five contestants were judged on who finished the gallon first, who filled their bucket the fullest, who had the most spectacular single puke, and who was the best overall puker. I had a fun time and would like to do it again. I ate a burger and also a hotdog. Also, I watched the first of the milk offs from March, as well as two guy, Mr. T and that hulk guy from freecomicbookday, pelt a friend of theirs with a pellet gun, by request, on video. I read a comic book, and it was good.

current mood: tired

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Friday, September 19th, 2003
2:45 am - Oops.
So today, my grandmother, sister, father, mother and I are sitting around the dinner table, enjoying our chicken soup and good conversation. The conversation turned to my grandmother's conversations with her sisters in law. (she's not my blood grandmother, but closer by far than either I've had) Regardless, as I was fishing through my broth for the few rebellious noodles, some confusion arose in the conversation as to which woman my grandmother was talking about. My dad asked, "The braincancer one?" and since I was lost in my soup, braincancer sounds a lot like breakdancer. I perked up and said, "who's the breakdancer?" No one answered, but my sister giggled. Then, when the conversation turned to tumors and chemotherapy, I realized what was said and couldn't stop laughing. It's horrible, I know, but haha. The sheer absurdity of it. What kind and loving god would make braincancer and breakdancer such similar words?

In related news, had I been reading my new Animal Man trade, I wouldn't have heard a thing...and I probably wouldn't have anything to read right now. This is some good stuff.

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Wednesday, September 17th, 2003
11:52 pm - They comes in threes.
So the other day, my mom calls me and tells me that the Man in Black has passed away. You could see it coming, since June Carter Cash died, the ol' man of truth didn't really have much to live for. Then, later that day, I found out that John Ritter died. Whoa. Bad day to be a John.

Then, later in that same day, I found out that an old baseball teammate of mine, Ivan Izirarry, died in a car crash. I played little league ball with him, and though we never talked much after the age of twelve, we were always cordial to each other, and as far as I know, he was a decent guy. They come in threes. John, Johnny and Ivan, which ironically, is russian for John, i think. This kid was hispanic (think pudge) and it sucks to see him go.


Today, after work, I received a phone call from one Jeremy Meeks, telling me that my close friend Tim's father had died Monday night. Tim was a good friend of mine, playing many intramural sports with me in college, playing entire seasons of tecmo superbowl with me, and pelting me with snowballs on his MU cable debut. This summer, when my baseball team was hurting for players, I, along with 20 minutes of cajoling, managed to get Tim into athletic pants and into the starting lineup at second base. In his very first at bat, Tim got hit in the arm, and then came around to score the game's first run. Though he didn't get a hit, one of my teammates said he "has a good swing."

So now I have four horrible occurrences in roughly as many days. Actually, a little more. But four is the wrong number. Bad things happen in threes. Johnny Cash's death = very bad. Tim's dad's death = very bad. Ivan Izirarry's death = pretty bad. John Ritter's death = slightly bad.

So the three bad things to happen in conjunction, are the deaths of Johnny Cash, Tim's father and Ivan.

Sorry, John. I guess maybe it wasn't meant to be. Unless of course there are two more superbads on the way....

current mood: lethargic

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12:43 am - The last few days.
So my local comic shop is called Wade's. They have a website that's good for going to. It is www.comicmadness.com . Wade is the proprietor. Last week, I was invited to an alphabetization party in the Basement of Wade's, where I took about 40 boxes of comic books and split them down into 40 comic boxes with just one letter's worth of titles in them, and for the last couple days, I've been going in and totally alphabetizing those books. It has drained me. I have logged about 30 hours, and I've done n-z, while my underlings, Wade's wife, the webmaster and Mr. T, managed to do A, D, E, F, G, H, and I, leaving me B, C, J, K, L and M to do.

During the alphabetizing party, talking amongst the help, I found out that a book called "Y the last man" was causing quite a buzz. During the sale the next day, which we were alphabetizing for, I bought the first two trades of this book, and read them that afternoon. The buzz was well deserved it's a pretty good read. And, as I was telling Tony, by pretty, I mean damn.

So tomorrow is Wednesday, new comic book day, and so, with all the commotion, I won't be able to alphabetize. But maybe, maybe if I'm lucky, a new Y will come out. I just hope after two straight weeks of X-men they don't crap my socks with a month and a half of Xmenlessness. Thursday I should go in and finish the job. Friday I head out to see Liz, and then Saturday's Harrisburg for friendship, and Sunday's Hershey for some WWE. I haven't watched in years, got any sign ideas? Amongst isn't a word?

current mood: hyper

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