ball of lightning [dot] com

So tell me what the fuck this dream means…

I’m in Las Vegas– I’m not sure why. We’re lying on the ground way outside the cities– there are no buildings nearby. We are then for a while; it was sunny, a thunderstorm rolled through (I remember being pissed it moved mostly to the north) and was on it’s way out. While I’m busy hitting on this very cute local, I hear shrieking, and see (to my horror) two girls fall through the cloud deck clutching each other, as well as one balloon and one beer (can of Miller Lite). They are wearing blue and gold dresses and heels. They hit the ground about twenty-five feet away from me with startling force. I race over expecting the worst, but one girl is kind of groggily moving around on her hands and knees, while her friend seems to be twitching and rolling her head, but seems unconscious. I tell everyone not to move either of them, and have them remain as still as possible until the EMTs get there. The Las Vegas chic was also a volunteer EMT or something, so she jumped over them and I’m not sure what happened. I went off to call 9-1-1 because for some reason I needed to run like a mile to get service. I got through, and remember telling them the address was MY street address from Ithaca– some sort of weird Las Vegas coincidence, or my brain isn’t witty enough to think on it’s feet during these dreams. I got transferred 3 or 4 times; to the hospital, police, and fire and rescue services and I think some administration department for someone. Finally someone went, but not for like a half an hour (I later looked at a digital clock, it was 1:18 AM, this accident happened at 12:27 AM according to a police officer). I’m not sure how it happens, but I end up at a hybrid police department/hospital where the police come in to get a statement (although people who greet me at the front desk are administrators from Cornell). The police walk in– one black, one white– both with crazy-ass walking sticks. We get into this discussion about how I wasted their time, and the department’s money, and that they only thing they cared about was the death count on the wall (which stood at 115– no clue over what time). I kept saying “Wait, are you fucking serious?!?” They kept responding, “You should have just waited ’til tomorrow. I mean, she was gonna die anyway” (they only mention one, I assume this is the unconscious one). Right on cue, a doctor (who looks like the Colonel from KFC) walks in and with a chuckle says “oh yeah, she’s dead.” The police officers laugh and look towards me and go “see, kid– you just need more seasoning,” at which point everyone disbands laughing. I’m irate and confused at this point, but get up to leave and find my friends since it’s now very early in the morning. As I’m leaving, I see that girl, with an expensive silver necklace I had been looking into buying for someone (I don’t know who) around her neck. She smiles, winks, gives me a little wave, and gets in an elevator. I’m not sure if she wanted me to follow, and my waiting caused the door to close. Then I woke up.

This was seriously the most vivid, crazy dream I’ve had in some time. I almost never remember ridiculous details, but this one I do.

No drinking on planes I can fall out of.

The back of the packet of complimentary pretzels you get when you fly AirTran…

Along the way, Patriot fans lost their humility and turned into the very thing their region despised for the last fifty years– Yankee fans. “Fuck the world, we’re the greatest ever, who gives a shit about class if we win.” The fact that some of you still cannot shake your sense of entitlement and take a loss with grace and without profanity or shitspewing means you don’t understand the true nature of sport. Get off the fucking bandwagon; no true fan wants to see a drunk, arrogant frontrunner sitting next to him at the game or on the sofa screaming “we’re killing you with middle fingers a’blazing!” Sorry, Pats fans– tonight you got a taste of your own medicine. Learn something before you share the bleachers with me at Fenway this year. I’ll be the one that’s not a total douchebag.

Following mild tradition…

January: thecanucktruck@hotmail.com
February: Ohmygod! A lightboard! Holy shit! Bomb!
March: Note to self:
April: Keith, you’re killing me man…
May: The feelings disappear…
June: Grades’up…
July: Notes on spam…
August: Only if you’re (REALLY) bored…
September: Fuck flirting, seal the deal…
October: Control?
November: It was really more than five years ago?
December: Brick walls are there for a reason…

Goodbye ought seven, hello ought eight.

The part in Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight” where he sings “it’s no stranger to you and me” and then the drums go “BUH DUH DUH-DUH DUH-DUH DUH-DUH DUH-DUH DUH” is easily my favorite air drum moment in rock history.

Today’s blast from the past: Mastergrip. As told by our favorite formerly-mulleted (in 2002) friend.

It was sometime around 8:30 I believe. Myself, Colin, and Brandon were bowling on lanes 31 and 32 when Mike Morrison aka gnome came over to where we were bowling as he was on lane 30 at the time. He picked up my container of Mastergrip. Now, Mastergrip is used to prevent your hands from sweating while you bowl, it’s basically an alternate to rosin. So anyway, Morrison asks what it is and basically became fascinated by it and started to shake it around excessively. The cap was off and well some of the Mastergrip wound up falling onto Brandon’s scoresheet. A white, sticky substance is on the scoresheet. It then is absorbed into the sheet so it’s clear. Now at this time, we are all basically falling over on the ground laughing at him, responding with such remarks as “Morrison, take that into the bathroom” or “Morrison, she’s not that hot” or even “Morrison, where’s the fire?.” This went on for about 20 minutes and he became enraged, turned red, and kept screaming at us to shut up and then he got all of his stuff together and left. Yes, this may not seem as funny to read about, but if you were there, you would understand why we are calling this “The Moment of The Century.”

Also, a little later on after this very hilarious moment with Morrison and the Mastergrip there, I called Amie and talked with her for about an hour. I was just walking around outside and Colin and Brandon didn’t know where I was. So they went and called me on the payphone like morons. Eventually, I got off the phone with Amie so Colin could call his Dad. After that, Colin and Brandon went over to a payphone and attempted to call Amie via 1-800-CALL-ATT, but I managed to call her first so that didn’t happen. There’s nothing else to say about any of this. After that, we all left, except for Brandon who stayed a little longer and eventually found a ride home. Oh well that’s the end of that story.

Whatever happened to the gnome (other than he’s a straight up fucking pimp now), or that bottle of Mastergrip? For that matter, whatever happened to Amie?

The Price is Right LIVE! goes to Foxwoods!

Mashantucket (WTNH) - Game show lovers come on down. Foxwoods Resort Casino announced today that it will host an 8-week run of America’s most popular television game show, “The Price is Right.”

The onstage “live” version will be held in the Fox Theater from October 30 through December 19.

Patrons will have a chance to win prizes daily. Shows will be held on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at 7:00 p.m. and Tuesday and Thursday at 2:00 p.m.

Tickets are $25 for general admission. You can purchase them at the Box Office or online at http://www.foxwoods.com or by calling 1-800-200-2882.

I mean.

Seriously.

How cool is that?

Eight students at Smithfield Middle School in Rexdale have been charged with sexual assault after allegedly restraining and groping four girls on school property after class. The boys are all 12 and 13, and can’t be identified under the Youth Criminal Justice Act. The girls are all 13.

All are students at the public school for grades 6, 7 and 8.

The alleged incidents occurred separately over 45 minutes on Sept. 25, during a basketball game on the court behind the school, which is on Mount Olive Dr., near Finch Ave. W. and Kipling Ave.

A surveillance camera is in the area and videotape “did play a part of the investigation,” said Supt. Ron Taverner of nearby 23 Division.

Taverner declined to discuss what the tape shows or what exactly police and the girls are alleging.

But one of the mothers says, “Seriously, come on!”

“It’s kids playing basketball. People touch people – it’s not that they were groping the vagina or breasts or nothing, they were just playing around.”

Am I the only one that finds it ironic that hippy-shit Ithaca makes you PAY to pick up more than one recycling bin per household?

Two points:

1.) Guitar Hero is an awfully addicting game.

2.) I’ve been bowling like shit lately. And it’s getting to the point where I’m not sure I care anymore.

Picking bowling over baseball was dumb. Then again, if only my rotator cuff wasn’t shredded like ground beef, I could be riding the pine for a certain shitty D-III team right now.