The Station

Dorks Don't Dance

On Friday, my friends Mariah and America leave for school in Oregon. I promised to hang out with Mariah before she left, so we planned to go Salsa dancing at Cowboy Monkey tonight. I met her, Tiffany, and their friend, Katrina, in dowtown Champaign and they said they wanted to go somewhere before Cowboy Monkey. I said, "sure" without realizing what I might be getting myself into.

They took me to Lava. For the uninitiated, Lava is a dance club much akin to those in the city. Long ago they said they would force me to go, but I thought they had forgotten. They hadn't. Now, I can handle partner dancing quite well. I know about frame, musicality, and ballroom etiquette. At Lava, however, all that is about as useful as trampoline is for Stephen Hawking.

Dorks can't dance. I'm a dork. Thus, I can't dance. That is, I can't just move my body in a fashion that looks naturally cool. I'm not sure if it's the self conciseness or what. Generally, in a situation like this, I just sway back and forth, maybe even do something with my arms every once in a while.

Actually, it wasn't that bad. After I realized how drunk most people were, I concluded that they wouldn't be able to identify my non-suaveness even if they were paying attention. So, I had fun just watching people.

Apparently they have line dancing before the hip hop spins on Wednesdays, so there are all these people in stetsons gettin' giggy wit it. Odd.

Later, we did go to Cowboy Monkey for some salsa. Salsa dancing. I felt more at home there.

Now it's very late and I have work very early. Adios.
B

Cookie For Girlfriend

This is Masha's doing. Those four words go a long way in explaining the forthcoming madness.

Friday night, John and Masha came over for a while to visit. When they came in, they sang happy birthday to me and gave me a book and two cookies. Mind, it's not anywhere near my birthday (or even half-birthday), so I was a bit perplexed.

However, the confusion was temporarily pushed aside when I saw the book on crop circles. Did I ever mention I like crop circles? I like crop circles. The book is fantastic.

Turning my attention to the cookies and the accompanying explanation, I once again found myself in wacky land. According to my Russian friend, I'm allowed to eat one of the cookies now, but the other I must give to my girlfriend on our first official boyfriend/girlfriend date. Okaaaaayyyyy...sure, Masha.

The first cookie was delicious. The second cookie is now pinned to my wall. This way it will be within easy reach when that special someone comes along. I also figure it will aid in the wooing process. I can hang out with a girl, get to know her, and if she's not so sure about a relationship, I can just show her the cookie and say, "this will be yours if you will be mine." Nothing like a stale cookie to tip the scales of love in my favor! Mmm!

Man, that first cookie was mighty tasty. Maybe I can real quick find a girl who agrees to be my girlfriend, but doesn't like cookies. Yes, then it will be mine! All mine! Cookiemonster!

Never did find out why the birthday song was sung.
B

All gone

I just finished my cup of coffee. There is no more.
B

About Cereal Boxes

Recently, it seems that every cereal box I purchase does not come with the inner plastic bag glued to the bottom of the box as it should be. This is rather inconvenient since the bag tends to escape from the box as I pour out the cereal.

Why have the cereal monsters stopped gluing down the bags? Probably to save cost. To make matters worse, I remember that when I was little I wished the bag was not glued down so that I could remove it to find the toy more easily. So this is just fantastic. When I don't want it glued, they glue it. When I want it glued, they don't glue it. Madness.
B

Still Looking For A Difference

This is this first of two consecutive weekends that I'm taking the motorcycle course here at school. Riding a motorcycle is so much fun. It's nearly as good as a roller coaster. I imagine, at this point, purchasing a bike is inevitable. I should try to restrain myself from buying one until winter arrives. I don't even care what kind I get. Even the little 250s they give us to practice on are mad fun.

Last night I saw Temple of Low Men at the Cowboy Monkey. That's a fantastic band. When their second album comes out, they're going to be huge. Love that guy's voice. Also, they make me want one of those electric bows for my guitar.

Speaking of my guitar, I've been playing a bit. Mostly Christian songs with the bible study folks, but I'm rediscovering the fun of playing with others. Wish P51 was still together. Oh well, times change. The two-year break from music will probably do me good in the end.

I've got no motivation to do anything. I'm too lazy to even answer the phone these days. I'm so not myself. I'm turning into an inattentive jerk like most everyone else. That's sad, but so am I, so I won't do anything about it. Ever pray to wake up and have your life be totally different? I do. Give me anything else but this. That way I can want what I do have now. You know, we all want what we don't have. It's a tragedy to be human. I think I want to shoot something. Yes, bunny rabbits must die!
B

A Complaint

A couple weeks ago, I purchased a new mobile phone. It's quite nice, and I enjoy it's company tremendously. Now, this is one of those fancy new phones that can use polyphonic ringtones, so I decided that I'd like to find one that expresses who I am. The theme from Peter Gunn would be nice (I guess it doesn't express who I am, but I like it anyway).

I always imagined that the mobile provider (Sprint PCS in this case) would have a website where you could easily browse through hundreds of ringtones, then, after finding a suitable one, have it sent to your phone. No, that would be the easy way to do things! Apparently, the site only shows a small sample of newer ringtones. To browse them all, you must use the phone itself. So I need to use the phone's web service (an extra fee) to browse through hundreds of poorly organized ringtones at a snail's pace on a teeny tiny screen. It took me about 90 seconds to access the first tone and I couldn't even figure out how to preview it. Basically it just says the name and asks if you'd like to pay $1.50 to have it for three months. Fantastically idiotic!

This brings me to another gripe. Why do they expire after three months? This may be fine for all those antsy pants types who can't focus on anything that isn't a 10 second soundbyte, but I just might want to have the same ringtone for a long time.

I think I need to be elected as guy-with-ultimate-authority-to-fix-stupid-ways-of-doing-things. I wouldn't use my position often, just when I see stuff like this. I would have an assistant who would schedule a meeting with the moron(s) in question, and then I'd tell them how to make things better. Yes, that will be good. Very good.
B