what's interesting about this new yorker is that it features a short story by someone who i went to college with. or, we were there at the same time, or maybe he was there the same time that some of my older friends were, and they remember him, while i do not. my brother did freshman year at the college i went to, and he knew him. the commonality to people saying that they remember him is also that they fucking hated him - he was the 19-year-old sort of douche who carried around a leather attache case. his published story is the sort that you can only write if you spent some time in the peace corps or simply bumming around africa for le experience and to gather material for, say, your debut new yorker short story. getting your short story published in the new yorker is like the holy grail for writers (and, since i use lazy metaphors like "the holy grail," i will never be published in the new yorker), and an amazing feat for a previously-unpublished dude in his early 30s. it's hard to be happy for people who you are jealous of, as well as for people who suck.
anyway, i read this in the week:
"Bad week for station identification, after the federal communications commission issued the call letters KUNT to a new hawaiian tv station. the station's owner has already filed a request to have the call letters changed."
i would totally open up a tv station just so it could have that name.
the bad news is that work is still too busy, my free wireless is still missing, and pos' house doesn't have internet. the good news is that there is "free" wifi at the caribou coffee at the corner, and even though you have to spend $1.50 on food and drinks an hour, that is an option. maybe scissors happy will just have to become caffeine-and-muffin fueled. i have tons of links to post, plus my very important and exceptionally insightful analysis of lollapalooza this past weekend. i'll get to it when i can, promizez.
* pos is fucking funny. he came in from my back porch this weekend to tell me that a woman drove by with an open box of oatmeal pies on the seat next to her, and he thinks that she might be a secret eater.