Stay Tuned for Further Instructions

Catching up on massive amounts of reading and homework, CMJ post and pictures are coming soon.

CMJ 2005

I haven't posted anything in a few days because I have been preparing for the CMJ Music Marathon going on all over the island of Manhattan this weekend. I've been typing up papers, coordinating vans and hotels, etc. to make sure the ten other WONY members who will be accompanying me on this journey are ready for four straight days of debauchery and chaos.

Last year, we got free beer everywhere, saw some great bands, and had a party at a strip club, all on SUNY Oneonta's tab.

This year, however, I am predicting an even more insane experience, since there are about three or four confirmed alcoholics coming on the trip for their first time.

Now I'm not very much into the college music scene, in fact I find most of the bands a bit fruity, but there is a lot of shizzle to do at this thing: they're showing a preview screening of "Walk the Line," the bio-pic about Johnny Cash that is coming out in November, a movie called "Domino," a true story about a model who became a bounty hunter, Rev. Run from Run DMC is giving a speech, and at 1:30 in the morning somewhere, Big Boi from Outkast and Bubba Sparxxx (he's still around?) are performing.

There are a bunch of other things going on, but these are the ones I'm most excited about. Especially since it's free.

I'm sure I'll make some drunken audio posts while I'm there, so check back for those. I'm going to post the pictures we take on here, as well, so if you want to see eleven assholes drunk and doing some retarded stuff, we'll be back on Sunday.

Wish me luck--maybe I'll win a car this year.

The New Fashion Disaster of Fall 2005

Whenever I walk around on the Oneonta campus, usually every girl looks exactly alike, with a about two or three fashion variations between them: there's the sporty-looking, hyperactive soccer chick, which most likely is a dyke; there's the slut wearing some retarded Abercrombie shirt saying something like, "Sorority Ski Lodge - You Can Plow Into Us Anytime!" and wearing terrycloth sweatpants with sandals; or the girls who don't fit in with those other girls so they just wear big baggy Oneonta State hooded sweatshirts all the time.

But on my return to campus, I began to see a new trend that has so horrified and disgusted me that it has made me question yet again why I didn't just commit suicide right out of high school and avoid racking up so much student loan debt.

That new trend is - the coif.

Before anyone questions how I know this gay, slutty girl fashion lingo, let me say in my defense I was told by a group of girls what it was called. I had taken to calling it a pompadour, because it reminds me so much of how Vince McMahon wears his hair.

Basically, a coif (quaff), is when a girl takes all her hair and pulls it into one big line down the middle of her head. It's a really, really, REALLY stupid look. Honestly, every time a girl walks by me with this hair style, I hear in my head someone in a raspy, strained voice screaming, "YOU'RE FIRED!"

Also, and possibly even more annoying, is what usually complements this hair style. That would be the thing that makes people's "style" go from dumb-looking to ignorant; and that is the prevalence of gigantic sunglasses.

These things are without question the most ridiculous things I have ever seen in my life. Snap bracelets are better than these things. On every girl who wears them, the lenses go from the middle of their forehead all the way down to about the middle of their noses. They occupy about 60% of the surface area of the face. Plus, they have this really ugly 70s faded color in the lens, usually brown, the most despised of all colors. I think part of the allure of them is that they are a lot like the glasses people wore in the 70s, but what all of you don't remember is that the 70s was by far the most depressing, dirty, inhospitable decade of the 20th century. Just watch any movie taking place in the 70s--everyone is all fucked up on drugs, no one is happy, everyone looks like an asshole, and all the appliances were either baby puke green or baby shit yellow.

But that's besides the point. The point is that you have thousands of girls across the country suddenly taking up a look at is putting them in danger. I'm soon going to crack and just bite one of these girls in the face. I can't stand it. It really is dumb. Why do you think it's attractive? It's not; you just end up looking like a big fucking retard.

The coif and the glasses are bad enough on their own, but combined create a force so terrible one struggles to even comprehend the damage it is doing to people's lives.

If you have or have thought of dressing in such a manner, this is your wake-up call; DON'T DO IT. You really just end up looking like a dick who literally will just blindly follow any trend just because you saw a bunch of people doing it. Plus, if any pictures are taken of you looking like that, you are going to be really embarrassed in about two years.

Do everyone a favor--cut the bullshit. End the sunglasses/coif combo now.



Does anything really need to be said?
What a fucking jerk.

Inmates Running the Asylum

Life Likes to Kick My Ass

Sometimes I feel my life is controlled by the moon, like the tide; one minute the tide is coming in and things are going well, the next, the tide is going out and my life smells like rotten fish. Every time without fail. I never, ever have a good day without a bad one following right behind it. It's gotten to the point where DURING my good day I start to feel uneasy and sad, because I know it will not last and things will suck tomorrow. Today is a perfect example of a low tide day.

I was up at 8:45 in the morning to catch the 9:30 bus to campus. I had to wake up particularly early because I had to move the car from the 3rd level of the parking garage to the first, because of some scheme by the Oneonta police to give out more tickets and get more revenue. Anyway, so I get on the bus, and for some reason, only one bus was running this morning. Which meant that there were about 125 people on a bus meant for around 45. Plus, the ugliest girl alive was sitting in my line of sight, which made being cramped on a hot bus with an ass in my face even worse.

So I get to campus, rush over to Netzer to get an add/drop form to drop my Broadcast Announcing class, and try to swap it; the day before I had found a perfect class to replace it, which would not only release me from Madden's enunciation prison, but also allow me to have no classes on Fridays. So I get the form, and go to see if the teacher (Cunningham) I need to switch into is in his office to sign off on it. He isn't. Not only that, but he is teaching at Hartwick all day, and will only be on campus for his 2 o'clock class. SO I start to plan around catching him before his class begins.

I sit through Murphy's TA class. I spend the 45 minutes before my next class sitting outside. I go to class, then realize I have 45 minutes to kill before I can see Cunningham, so I decide to go to the radio station for a while.

Mistake. First off, there is a freshman roaming the hallway, who comes up to me and asks how do you "work" for the station. So not only do I have to go through the whole spiel about the station and training, but the kid also looks way too similar to Handsome Pete, which was definitely throwing me off while I was trying to talk to him. It was that bad. Then a few kids come down and ask me where the vinyl is so they could do their show. So I have to make a hundred calls to try and track down the vinyl. Finally, I get fed up and just leave. All I wanted to do was check my e-mail and sit on the computer for a few minutes.

It is now a few minutes before two, so I walk to the room he teaches the class in and wait. When he finally shows up, I say hi and ask him if I would be able to sign into his class. Cunningham looks at me and says:

"Nope. Sorry. Good-bye."

Complete and utter rejection. I couldn't believe he just so nonchalantly and matter-of-factly shot me down. I walk out of the room, stunned. I then realized I not only had a mere two hours left before add/drop ended, but also was late for my doctor's appointment. I call Kristin in a frenzy, telling her I didn't know what to do and find me any class where the teacher would be available to sign me in right away. She begrudgingly said, "Ehhh.....I don't know what to do." So I hung up on her.

I ran to the Health Center, signed in, and got set up in a room. (During the whole preliminary temperature/blood pressure phase of the visit, Kristin is incessantly calling me, and texting "You are an asshole" to my phone.)

Suddenly it hits me: I've been running around all over campus. I'm wearing jeans. It's hot out. My balls are really sweaty. I'm here for a abdomen/groin ache.

The doctor is going to have to touch my sweaty balls.

After I realized this, I waited for the nurse to leave the room and leave me to wait for the doctor to arrive. As soon as she shut the door, I jumped up, unzipped my pants, and started furiously wiping my sack with my boxers, in the hopes that I could wipe away most of the ball sweat before the doctor ventured down there.

The lady comes in, and in a first for getting a nut/hernia check, the doctor laid me down on the table, put a sheet over me, and started poking around what she phrased as my 'pubic region.' After poking around, making me cough, and 'checking for any masses' on my boys down there, she concluded I probably just strained a muscle in the area. A relief, but I still had the rest of my life to deal with.

Pretty much the rest of the afternoon consisted of me going to the registrar after Kristin found me another class, having to go find the teacher to sign off on the form, going to the top floor of the wrong building, going back down, going many floors up in the right building, and finding he wasn't there.

I screamed at Kristin for a good half hour, hung up on her several times because there's nothing I hate more than talking to a girl who is annoyed on the phone.

I walked into the apartment, realized I hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day, grabbed a green tea, and since I had to go BACK to campus an hour later for a radio station/SA meeting, sat down with a box of Triscuits, a slice of American cheese, and sat in the hot apartment with the blazing sun on my back eating Triscuits and American cheese. Silva takes one look at me and say, "Woah, you look like the most depressed person in the world right now."

I started laughing, because at that point things could not get much lower; I could do nothing else other than laugh at my whole situation.

Unfortunately, the week will not be easy from here; I've still got to try and attempt to fix this add/drop fiasco, have to go pay a parking ticket, plus Wednesdays are my long days and I don't get home until 9pm.

The only thing I hope is this means the tide will be coming in soon.

WONY: The Eternal Struggle

Running a radio station is tough.

Over the past two years, as I watched two different people at the helm of WONY, I thought I understood what went into keeping this place afloat; there were parts that were fun, and parts that really sucked. I was able to see from watching the other general managers all with different styles what to do and what not to do, when to let people do what they want and when to bring down the hammer. And so far, after only two weeks of being officially on the air, I'm already seeing that there is so much more to the job than would be visible to even the keen observer.

That's not to say I can't handle the job: running a college radio station is a lot easier than, say, being a surgeon or flying a fighter jet, or even working in the cafe at Barnes and Noble. But the fact is there have already been so many incidents that have caused me frustration to a high degree, and the frequency of these problems has been much higher than I anticipated.

One of the most annoying was the fact that, for some reason, many of the DJs access cards somehow were not activated to allow them access to the studio. This meant that for the first four days of classes, I was woken up at 7:30am to have someone tell me they couldn't get in. After the second day, this became quite annoying.

Also, I really thought I would be able to trust the DJs here to use basic manners and common sense. Everyday, Studio A is a pigsty; CDs everywhere, magazines half torn up and strewn all over the place, and remnants of food dug into the carpet. And everyday, I clean it up, ask people to keep it clean, but it never happens.

But those problems pale in comparison to the sheer number of little details that have to be taken care of on a daily basis. I have a problem remembering things anyway, so the fact that I have to remember to call this kid to make sure he knows about the meeting, ask that guy to get that thing done he was working on, return the phone call from the guy who is hounding me about an interview I do not want to do, respond to the e-mail from the teacher who wants to bring their classes down here and show them around, etc. becomes maddening. Not that these are huge issues, but it is a lot to keep track of, and I've always had a problem keeping tabs on a million little things like this. It does sometimes feel like babysitting, where you can't leave someone to do something on their own without having to check up on them every half-hour.

Luckily, we have a number of people down here who have been surprising helpful in sorting all this shit out, and making it easier to deal with. I don't know if the majority of people who read this blog are people I know from Oneonta, from home, or whatever, so references to specific people might get lost on some, but a few who have so far been a really big help have been Feldman, Dustin, and Lip Ring. Feldman I think lives down here (probably to escape his living situation), and Dustin and Lip Ring I feel confident in asking to do it and having it get done without needing to constantly check on them to make sure its being worked on. If you are a member of WONY and not mentioned on here, don't get pissed; these are the people that just first come to mind, and I don't feel like sitting here and doing a Stewie Griffin Compliment Sandwich.

I'm not sure if I need to lighten up and not be so anal and overbearing in my pursuit to getting things done, or if I am just overreacting; both are big possibilities. But my mentality to accomplishing things is to get them done right away, and not have the 'I'll do it tomorrow' mentality, and this can cause conflict with people who don't do things the way I do. I'm not scared of conflict, because I think its will help the WONY e-board to figuring out solutions. What I'm scared of is apathy. I want to make sure the e-board isn't overlooking responsibilities because of laziness.

But like I said, this is only two weeks into the semester. Things could get easier. Even though I feel overwhelmed with it sometimes, I think we're on track to have one of our best years in a while down here; we had a fantastic station meeting yesterday, without any sense of subordination that existed last year. Hell, people were actually laughing and listening to what we were saying. We've got the new computer for Studio A which will make our shows sound a thousand percent better, and everyone is making the effort to erase the clique-iness and elitist attitude that flowed through this place last year.

And if things don't get easier, whatever. I'll try to make the most of it and not turn into Rob for his last months here, with the personality of a cantankerous old geezer, like one of these people you see in the old civil rights videos screaming at the black kids to not go to their school.

Whatever happens, WONY will live on.

Check out the WONY Website:

WONY.com

Listen to us online (when we pay the bill and they turn us back on):

WONY Webcast

When Will This Blog Lighten Up?

Hopefully I'll be able to come up with something else to talk about other than the hurricane and gas soon, but I just keep watching it on TV and it keeps depressing me.

I read this on CNN.com, and thought it was something most people never hear about. You ever hear someone talk about how the US is always there to help OTHER countries when they are in need, but no one helps US? Here in an excerpt from the story, "Governments Pledge Aid After Katrina:"

The statement said offers of aid have been received from:

Australia, Austria, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bahamas, Belgium, Canada, China, Columbia, Cuba, Dominica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, France, Germany, Guatemala, Greece, Guyana, Honduras, Hungary, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Israel, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jordan, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Mexico, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Paraguay, Philippines, Portugal, South Korea, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Slovakia, Spain, Sri Lanka, Switzerland, Sweden, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, United Kingdom, the United Arab Emirates, and Venezuela.

Now I'm not so naive; many of these might just be empty pledges just to show the international community that they are willing to work with the US. But the fact is that they have said they would help us, the self-proclaimed sole superpower. Maybe we should remember this next time we want to criticize those countries for not agreeing with us on everything.

Surprise, Surprise

This comes from the Reuters story, Bush Warns Looters, Urges Americans to Conserve Gas:

"Asked in an interview on ABC's "Good Morning America" if U.S. oil companies should forfeit profits during the crisis, Bush said instead American corporations should contribute cash to hurricane relief funds."

How about both?

Impending Sense of Doom, Anyone?

I don't know what the hell is going on lately, but I have had this consistent sense of things being unsettled and chaotic lately.

I don't know what it is. I've felt so restless and not in control recently, and it's driving me insane.

• I'm still not used to being back in Oneonta yet
• I'm not used to living in the apartment yet
• I'm not used to the "teaching" styles of my professors
• Everyday something goes wrong at WONY that I have to deal with
• I have a pain in my lower abdomen/groin area that won't go away and is making me nervous
• I have to move my car every few hours to keep in line with the insane Oneonta parking laws
• Gas prices are spiraling out of control
• New Orleans is under water
• I've been trying to track down this mysterious financial aid I'm counting on
• I get to hear kids screaming on Main Street every night, pissing in the alley underneath my window
• I keep losing everything

I am a creature of routine. If I don't feel like I can anticipate that will happen next or that I am in control of what is going on, I get very tense. Right now I'm very tense.

Is this just me or is anyone else feel like this lately?

If I was a black businessman, this is what I would look like.

Black Gold, Texas Tea

This will be quick, since I have to get ready to go to class.

Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm going to fill up my tank tonight in preparation for the forecasted $3 a gallon which will be entering Oneonta by Friday.

I'm going to try to drive around a little as possible for the next few weeks, taking the bus to campus and things like that. I almost genuinely cannot afford to drive anymore. I shouldn't be paying $30 to fill up the tank of my STATION WAGON.

I can't imagine what you rich snobs in SUVs are paying; what's an SUVs tank? 20, 25 gallon tanks? I hope you don't like money, because $75 to fill up on gas is fucking unbelievable.

But that will be nothing when a gallon of gas costs $4 in a few weeks. Don't believe me?

Expert: $4 a Gallon Gasoline Coming Soon

And make sure you give big thanks to Bush for all of this. Now, Bush supporters, I know what you're saying: "The president has nothing to do with this. It's because of Hurricane Katrina." Wrong.

According to OilOnline, which appears to be actually run by the oil industry, quote:

"Twenty-four major U.S. energy companies reported overall net income (excluding unusual items) of $16.7 billion on revenues of $213 billion during the second quarter of 2004 (2Q04). This level of net income represented a 67% increase relative to the second quarter of 2003 (2Q03)"

So pretty much Bush and his gay ass pals keep making MORE money every year. Hmmm, seems to me that if it truly was things like foreign oil dependence and natural disasters like Katrina and Ivan in 2004 that were keeping prices so high, the oil industry's profits wouldn't be JUMPING 67% IN A YEAR!!! 67%?!?!?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

But that's fine. $100 to fill up a tank of gas? Great. As long as I can drive my kids to soccer practice in a car designed by the military for heavy duty transport and not have to see two guys married or kissing. That's gross.

David v. The San Francisco Treat

Tonight I come home from a long e-board meeting at the station, chop meat and hamburger rolls in hand, anticipating a nice meal of some sloppy joe's with a side or two. I decide that I would like a change of pace from the usual Lipton bag of noodles, and will have some of the Rice-a-Roni we have in the cabinet.

I get everything ready without really reading the instructions; some butter, a pan to cook it in, etc. When I'm finally ready to cook it is the first time I truly get to inspect the directions.

Step one says to mix the rice and butter in a skillet. So I do this; I let the butter melt a little bit, then poured the rice in. About a minute into the prep, I think something has to be wrong; all the rice is sticking to the pan, and the butter is no longer melting because its been overwhelmed by the rice, like a big buttery rice ball. Someone tell me: is this truly the way it is to be prepared? I have huge mounds of rice sitting in the thing that I have to keep moving constantly, because otherwise it'll all burn onto the bottom of the pan and I'll be scraping it off for ten hours.

Finally, I decide this has to be wrong, and pour a little bit of the water from step two into the skillet. After stirring this for about a minute, the rice starts to resemble gruel; it took on a thick, oatmeal texture. To combat this, I just poured the rest of the water in. This did no good. So I got a pan of hard, uncooked gruel rice simmering in front of me, and I figure if I'm going to screw it up, I might as well go all the way with it, and pour in the seasoning. So now I have yellow gruel. I just cover it with the lid on low heat for about seven minutes, until I realize all the rice is fusing onto the bottom with no chance of ever coming off. So I just turned it off and put it into a serving bowl and actually ate some of it with the rest of the meal, which turned out fine.

Now, I don't contend that there's a chance I have some low level of retardation. Rice-a-Roni has been around a long time. They have to know how to cook their own product. But I don't understand how those directions could be accurate. You're supposed to stir dry rice around in the pan? What? And the rest of the directions, they're too vague. Everything else you cook usually has precise times on how long something should sit and cook. Not Rice-a-Roni. They just assume you have cooked rice all your life and know what to do.

I'm never cooking this crap again. I should have known better than to break from routine.

On a side note, if you know what the hell I did wrong, leave a comment. I have another box of this stuff that I don't just want to throw out. Although, it could make a great gift for someone I don't like.

Me Fail English? That's Unpossible

The person who wrote this sentence attends an accredited four-year college:

Auto response from CulliganMan (6:33:54 PM): making some spaggetti and braciole in sauce with pork pieces...it guini night

About 60% of the sentence is spelled wrong.

We're, Like, Totally Self-Absorbed!

With the arrival of the fall semester, one annual tradition inevitably follows: Rush Week. Now from what I understand, this is the time of year when fraternities and sororities try to find the most impressionable students who crave the acceptance of their peers at any cost, and recruit them to basically treat them like dirt for four months so they will be friends with them. There's nothing like calling someone a fat ugly slut and making them binge drink to truly earn a person's friendship.

It doesn't take a detective to see my stance on the whole Greek Life phenomena, but I noticed one thing today that I felt I had to comment on. Why do sororities come up with the most obnoxious, pompous slogans to put on the back of their shirts? The logic of this really perplexes me; a sorority wants people to join their house/club/whatever,
so they write phrases on their backs that would make even the most pliable person have nothing to do with them?

Today I was out in the Quad, and I saw some of these sorority people out trying to get people to come to their little party or whatever it was. They all had new shirts made for Rush '05, and all of them had some outlandish saying on the back. Here are the most audacious:

"You take them because you need them. We take them because we want them."

"Fulfilling our dreams, living your fantasies."

"We might be bitches, but you still want to be us."

And so on and so forth. How is that supposed to draw someone to your organization? Why would any person with a shred of self-respect be associated with such a group? Still want to be you? Who the fuck do you think you are? Nobody wants to be you. YOU want people to be you; you like to think people want to be you, that's how you define yourself. You think because you can have those million dollar handbags and cars and shit, and go tanning four times a week, that you are living some sort of posh, luxurious lifestyle. But anyone who's got half a brain knows that in a few years when you graduate, you'll have focused too much of your time in college on being a legend in your own mind, and won't be able to take care of yourself. Once the trust fund money runs out, you'll either have to learn to suck dick really, really good, or you will end up as that 45-year-old woman working at Banana Republic in the mall, wondering what the hell you're going to do now that you've got cellulite on your thighs and crow's feet in the corners of your eyes.

I'd love to hear an explanation from somebody in one of these spoiled brat sororities about why they write shit like that on their backs. Oh, man. I would get so much pleasure out of that argument.

Anyone reading this, I implore you: if you have a friend in a sorority who has shirts with something like this on it, stop being their friend. They are too fargone to be saved and will just drag you down with them.

I hate sororities so much.


Kappa Phi Sigma: We Have Less Visible Herpes Than You

Quiet As A Train Accident

So last night about 1:30am I'm in bed, awaiting the coming of the first day of school. Silva, for some demented reason and compulsion, was out drinking. The night before classes start. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but that seems a little ridiculous.

Anyway, so its 1:30, and all of a sudden I hear a tremendous slam, followed by what sounded like a girl crying. I figured one of the girls downstairs fell down coming back from the bars. So I open the front door, and there are a few people standing outside Silva's bedroom door, the one that opens directly into the hallway. I see two people who I've never seen in my life standing in the doorway, I hear a girl laughing, and Silva, in a drunken stupor, saying something along the lines of, "MY room, look at this, it's my room. There's this, and those."

So I go back into my room and wait for the people to leave. When they do, Silva comes in my room. I asked him where the noise from before came from. He said:

"I had to kick my door down to get into my room. The front door was locked."

"Why did you kick the door down? Why didn't you just knock on the front door?"

"Well, I didn't want to make any noise and wake you up.....Hey look, King of the Hill. I love Hank Hill."

That makes sense.

PS - He also left the oven on for five hours yesterday.



This man, when drunk, doesn't realize sound travels.

Round 4

By some fancy trick pulled on me by the forces of the universe, I am somehow starting my fourth year of college tomorrow.

Today was spent prepping the radio station for our return to the airwaves, installing a new computer in the studio, and then wanting to smash the computer when it refused to work.

Also, another fun activity was when my dad called me, asking why I was getting a bill for $105 from Bank of America, the institution I left more than a month ago. I had the joy of going through their automated phone service, having to wait until the very last option to talk to a real person (you ever notice that? every single phone menu has 'Speak to a Representative' as the last possible option, so you end up hearing about all the languages and other shit for five minutes?), and find out why they were sending me bills for no reason.

It turns out for some reason they created a new checking account in my name and never told me. When I went to the bank and asked them I wanted to close my account, my real one was ended, but not this imaginary one. Since BoA charges at least $5 a month in fees, and since there was no money in this phantom account, they had to use overdraft to pay the fees. And when the end of month came, and I hadn't paid for the overdraft cash, they had to overdraft to pay the new bill. They continued doing this until it came to $105 and sent a letter home. When I asked the lady 1) why I had two accounts when I was only supposed to have one, and 2) why this second one wasn't closed when I left the bank, she made kind of a drooling noise and articulated the equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders.

I also checked out a book from the library that hadn't been checked out since January 16, 1969. When this book was checked out last, man still hadn't been on the moon.

Silva is out buying taco meat for a little taco dinner we're having together. Yes, we ARE a couple now.

Holy shit I don't want to sit in a classroom tomorrow.



I wish the first day of school was still like this. I could totally kick all of those kids asses.

Snapple Fact # 98

Beware of a girl who has the exact same pose and face in every single picture. You know you've seen 'em, that girl who has sat in front of her mirror, trying to find her best side, and has practiced enough so as to have the same look in every single photo.

Seriously, think about how vain a person you have to be to have down a "picture face." And some might shrug it off, saying "Oh, it just happens that way." Wrong. There is no way that in every picture taken of you from the age of 18 on just by coincidence you look the exact same; same smile, same tilt of the head, same angle at the camera.

Which, by the way, is the most usual pose these girls take. Face tilted down, slightly looking up at the camera, showing the majority of either their right or left. I think the goal is to try and look sexy/hot (and not in the way guys think of hot, the girl "hot" mentality)/elegant.

It's not working, bitch. Get over yourself.

Place Bets Here on the Date of Kodi's Return

Anyone know anything about setting up odds? Because I think I could make a quick buck making odds for when Kodi will return to Oneonta.

For any of you who have his screen name, I'm sure you have seen this in recent days:

not only am i leaving so many friends at oneonta, but now i find out that two more of them are comming back to school there....life is so fantastically shitty




lake...wakeboarding or something

Two things about this are classic Kodi: his yearning to be back in his natural environment, a college town. But notice how he deals with this pain and strife; "Wakeboarding or something." Fucking Kodi. I've got you down pat.

But that's not all. I would just write about what his profile says, but it has to be seen to get the proper experience. Here are some of the highlights.

Emotional Breakdown: T minus 6 days

its gonna take a lot to pull me away from you ... <3>

The emotional breakdown is counting down to when classes start here at school. Yes, it struck me as gay, too. Not to mention all the other sayings.

Now Kodi is a great guy, and I'm no psychology major, but Kodi seems to be having some serious separation anxiety. And I don't think its from being away from Oneonta per se, but from the "college life" in general. Kodi's whole lifestyle and personality were designed for the college experience. In no other environment on earth could you be like Kodi and be successful, but at Oneonta he was like king of the castle. Someone who will light themselves on fire or jump out of trees, hitting every branch, for no good reason, they're bound to do well at college.

But what Kodi doesn't know is he is still making waves here in Oneonta. Literally every station person I have seen has said to me, "Have you seen Kodi's away message?" People are fascinated by his metal problem.

I know I've written about Kodi's away message before, but it seems to be such a hot topic lately.

I'm going to say that his ugly mug will be making an appearance here within two weeks. Anyone like to take that bet?

Back in Black, Back to the Future, My Boyfriend's Back, Men in Back? And Any Other Phrase Containing the Word 'Back'

Unless you are retarded, you might be able to deduce that I am once again living in the old stomping grounds of Oneonta.

My life for the last three days has consisted of the assembly of furniture and violent scrubbing. The second action is because my landlord, who seemed like a nice enough guy and claimed he was going to paint and clean up before we got here, couldn't find the time. Maybe that's because every time I called him, he wasn't available and/or was on vacation. So I came back to find everything dirty, and Lisa K. and her roommate's hair all over the place.

The bathroom was horrendous; the toilet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years, the tub had more streaks than the Yankees this year, and the shower curtain looked like it had bread mold growing on it. Unfortunately, I had to shower in it once before I got to clean it, and stood there like a little girl on my tiptoes, scared to touch anything. Although that and the kitchen have been pretty thoroughly cleaned, they still need to be mopped. But I don't mop. I have my maid do that for me. My maid's name is Kristin.

The even more joyous activity has been putting together every stick of furniture together by myself. Since Captain Silva is in Maryland sitting on a yacht in one of those sea captain hats playing shuffleboard, having caviar fights, and living in the lap of luxury, I'm the only one here for five days. So that bum gets to have everything ready for him when he gets here. I told him he owes me a night of hardcore drinking when he gets back, but he peed his little pants and said no he doesn't. He's at the very least buying us a communal bottle. Fucking mooch.

But back to the point. The last 48 hours of my life has revolved around diagrams such as the one here on the left. I bought a dresser at Target before I left, and figured I'd be able to put it together no sweat. This started bets at my house about how long it would take me to either: A) Shatter the pieces of the dresser in frustration, or B) call my dad and ask him when he could come up and do it for me.

I started to believe it, too, since I'm not too mechanically inclined. But guess what? That shit is standing up next to me as I type this. Granted, it did take a while for it to be completed, but that was because it threw me the unseen curveball of having to glue pieces together, which I wasn't prepared for, and had to give that shit time to dry. But other than that, it was no sweat. Booyakasha.

My bed and dresser also had to be assembled, but with no directions. They too took a while to become what one would consider furniture, but all's well that ends well.

This weekend will be dedicated to setting up the station for our Wednesday on-air premiere. We've got to clean down there, open about 11 tons of mail, and just make sure everything is in working order.

The first WONY-ites to be in town, Miller, Matt, Dante, Mabb, and myself (I would say Lisa P., but SHE'S NOT A MEMBER ANYMORE!!!! PPPH!!! SCHOOL HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET, AND YOU'RE BACK ALREADY?!?!? PATHETIC!) went out last night for just a regular, relaxing time. Other than when we were walking to General Clinton's Pub and saw some guy kicking the shit out of the passenger of a car, then the car tried to go in reverse really fast to get the guy off the car, but he hung onto the door and kept kicking until the car screeched away. I still can't believe we witnessed that, it was so surreal.

Well, time to stop jerking around on the computer, and get down to the station.

You Call That A Summer Recap?!?!?!

Since my summer is drawing closer to an end with every day, I have decided to do a recap much like Silva's, only mine won't suck.

David's Summer 2005

• Moved furniture up to Oneonta two weekends in a row
• Got a new cellphone
• Interned at News Twizzle
• Worked at Barnes and Noble when not at N12
• Survived Harry Potter night at B&N
• Played Human Beer Pong 2.0 @ Dane's on the 4th of July
• Saw two car accidents within a twenty-four hour period
• Wrote a five page paper at the end of the internship
• Watched the Marlins be good one day, shitty the next
• Barely hung out in Joe's basement
• Never changed my bedsheets
  
• Changed financial institutions (Take that, Bank of America with your out of control fees!)
• Took a drug test, which by the way, was the most elaborate, careful, fool-proof thing I've ever witnessed
• Spent $4 million on gas
• Discovered the genius that is the Crunchwrap Supreme
• Sold my CMJ South Park guitar on eBay
• Beat Prince of Persia: Warrior Within
• Came upon the awesomeness of Da Ali G Show
• Drove around town looking for lost dogs
• Only got talked into going into Huntington one night (more on this later)
• Finished the USA trilogy
• Had the worst overall movie experience of my life at the Commack movie theater when watching the literally 60 minute movie Madagascar, where I spent $20 on movie tickets alone, and got a tray of nachos that had I shit you not about 11 chips on it for $4.50. So for an HOUR'S worth of "entertainment," I spent in total about $30. I'm not bitter about it.
  
• Read All the King's Men, Portnoy's Complaint, and The Adventures of Augie March
• Forgot my keys to get into the house one night when I had been drinking, and crawled through a window 6 ft. above the ground without anyone waking up and confronting me
• Had a giraffe drool all over my hand
• Got into a political debate with about seven drunk 19-year olds who have no idea what the hell they are talking about
• Bought stuff for the apartment
• Tried to get stuff for the radio station done over the phone, which would have been more productive by carrier pigeon
  
• Got my bank card stolen
• Got a job at News 12
  
• Got a haircut that would probably rank in the top three of the worst I've ever had in my life (the guy started the fade about 7/8 of the way up my head. I looked like the top of a crayon for about 2 weeks)
• UPDATE 8/13: And lest I forget, I also performed surgery on a Playstation 2, got the thing to play games again, saving $100+. YOU ever seen the inside of a Playstation? Didn't think so.
  

But overall, really not an eventful summer by any stretch. I was too busy splitting my time between News 12 and Barnes and Noble. But it paid off with having a "real" job, so I don't care. Plus, now I'll have a lot more money to burn up at school. I have decided that I'm going to grab this year by the horns and try to enjoy myself more this year rather then focus everything on my grades. But who knows, old habits die hard.

I'm sure I'll be updating this on a nearly daily basis again once I get back up to school, that is if I have internet in the apartment. Or electricity.

Booyakasha.

As Local As Local News Gets, Mothafucka

As of today, I am officially an employee of News 12 Long Island. With my internship ending last week, I was able to get a job in the editing department. I'm going to be able to work this week, and then go back to school, but luckily, I'll be able to come back and work during the vacations from school, and when I graduate next year, I'll have a place to come back to.

What's so great about this is that its actually in the industry. Judging from the track record of people I know who graduated, it's not easy to find a job in the mass communications field. That's why I went in three times a week for the entire summer and busted my ass for free. It's the kind of job where when I'm at work, it's really not work at all. When it really comes down to it, I'm playing with a video machine, sitting on my ass in an air conditioned/heated place, "working" for like two hours, then have the rest of the time to sit and jerk around. I love it. I've never had a job that when I leave after an eight hour shift, I don't feel like I've been working.

You should be proud of me.