.o0o.

i live in monterey now.

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 08:05:01 GMT

hi, i'm here. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On Jellies

eileen_psyamesekat — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 19:46:48 GMT

This is my first published piece of writing. I've been hesitant to show anyone, due to regular old warranted insecurities and pervasive self-loathing. http://www.olympiadofthearts.org/ Creative Writing 2007 College Prose Division Creative Nonfiction Page 57

Pleasantly Moronic

eileen_psyamesekat — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 05:17:31 GMT

Hot Rod By Eileen Lewis Of The Valley Mirror B MOVIE THEATRE — I'll tell you from the start: If you're not fond of immature irreverent satire and kitsch humor, you will not enjoy this flick. But if you are, then this one is already on the way to its rightful place on your shelf of cult classics. Hot Rod champions the inane, the silly and the dorky. Thoroughly absurd yet surprisingly heart-felt, this movie was lost in translation to a significant part of the audience. As a Saturday Night Live production, one can only expect a corny and intentionally second tier B-movie. Unfortunately, it seems many people didn’t realize what they were getting themselves into. They weren't prepared for the weird. For instance, a group of teenagers (who were, if I might add, cursing profusely and talking loudly) left the movie halfway through. Um, excuse you? Sorry the corniness was lost on you. How can a movie about a caped moped-riding wannabe Evel Knievel be anything but? Hot Rod is the brainchild of the internet comedy troupe The Lonely Island, with some writing contributions from Will Ferrell. The troupe become famous from their YouTube shorts, which propelled funny boys Jorma Taccone, Akiva Schaffer and Andy Samberbg to discovery and landed them writing gigs with Saturday Night Live. On top of that, Andy Samberg — who resembles a young John Travolta in his Welcome Back Kotter years — was offered a coveted spot on the SNL cast. Expect to see more of him, I think this movie is the initial nudge before the shove into the spotlight. The movie begins with wannabe Evel Knievel boy Rod Kimble (Andy Samberg) jumping his moped over everything and anything. The hapless Rod wants nothing but to follow in what he believes are his deceased father's footsteps and become a successful stuntman. His daily antics resemble a good episode of “Jackass.” At home, Rod and his step-father Frank (Ian McShane) constantly spar and duke it out. Frank believes that being a respectable man means winning a fight. He has no respect for Rod, because he consistently "kicks Rod's ass." To Rod's dismay, Frank becomes deathly ill and needs a heart transplant that they can't afford. Rod becomes utterly distraught — Frank may die before Rod gets a chance to "kick his ass" and win his respect and love. At least Rod is kind enough to wait until his father gets better before he beats on him. Rod then uses his stuntman "skills" to perform and make enough money to pay for his step-father's operation. And so the story goes. It's also worth nothing that the soundtrack increases the hilarity tenfold — indeed, if it weren’t for the soundtrack, I’d have a much lower opinion of the movie. It’s drenched in primitive Moog synthesizer riffs and 80s hits: (I Just) Died in Your Arms - Cutting Crew; You're the Voice - John Farnham, Peter Tevis – A Gringo Like Me. Even if you’re not fond of 80s pop, the induced synesthesia will force visions of pink leg warmers and well-groomed mullets—a guaranteed eye-rolling nostalgic chuckle or three. Hot Rod also acknowledges the rise of new-media. It's a tribute to the success that comes with being a star in Web 2.0. The movie characters prove that anyone with a computer and a video camera can create anything, as lame as can be, and reach an audience of thousands. T The real life troupe characters magnify that — their Digital Shorts, filmed with regular camcorders and edited in a day or two, often turn into massive internet phenomena (Lazy Sunday, D*ck in a Box). Overall, it' a fun feel-good movie that would alleviate anyone's crappy day, or enhance your already amazing existence. Enjoy! Director: Akiva Schaffer MPAA rating: PG-13 for crude humor, language, some comic drug-related and violent content. Runtime: 88 minutes

More Than Meets the Eye

eileen_psyamesekat — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 04:43:07 GMT

for: The Sacramento Valley Mirror Transformers is the ultimate summer blockbuster By: Eileen Lewis A Movie Theater—I now wish that I had spent my childhood in front of the tube differently. Instead of the Smurfs or Muppet Babies, I should have been watching Transformers. Religiously. The summer’s blockbuster has finally arrived, after a barrage of less-than-thrilling action flicks. I entered the theater not expecting very much; at the very least, an impressive fireworks display of cutting edge computer graphic imagery. Alas, this was not the case. This is the best summer action movie I’ve ever seen. It pushes the formulaic and has set the curve for the genre. I periodically looked around the theater, and I wasn’t the only person whose back wasn’t touching the seat, laughing raucously or who seemed wide eyed and thoroughly impressed. Despite my usually shorter-than-most attention span, I didn’t even realize I was in the theater for two hours and twenty minutes. Based off of the popular Hasbro toys and their many comic book and cartoon manifestations, the Transformers movie is a jackhammer of all trades. The immaculate CGI, courtesy of George Lucas’ Industrial Light & Magic visual effects, is undoubtedly a modern technological masterpiece. The movie was genuinely funny-- so absurdly corny that even the most pugnacious of critics would be stifling a chuckle in the back row. The movie was slyly sprinked with promilitary, antifederal government tendencies, but that's by no means new to the action genre. The plot was somewhat weak yet inexplicably entertaining. Many of the subplots and minor characters were beyond dispensable, but that's not really a tragedy when there are gargantuan robots duking it out on freeways, annihilating buildings, and looming over screaming woman #281. The movie hosts finely tuned elements of familiar favorites. The Transformers scale buildings faster than King Kong ever could—and look cooler doing it. Their fluid mechanical movements as they careen from skyscraper to skyscraper shame Spiderman into looking like a drunk ladybug. The military fight scenes, which look resurrected from G.I Joe--especially tyhe aerial battlers--make Top Gun look like a paper airplane toss. The titillating GM automobiles make the cars in The Fast and The Furious look like second-hand jalopies. Okay, well, not that bad, but I think you can conjecture what I'm attempting to convey: the movie does it bigger, better, faster and louder than any of the above. Before they hit the big screen or dazzled young boys in Ninja Turtle pajamas watching Saturday morning cartoons, the Transformers were merely cars-that-turn-into-robot toys. Despite being out of the mainstream eye for a few decades, hardcore fans remained. This is what executive producer Steven Spielberg and director Michael Bay (of Armageddon and Pearl Harbor "acclaim") realized, and decided to cash in on the potential tenfold — a good choice on their behalf. Wisely, throughout the filming process, Bay adhered to the advice and desires of true Transformers fans. The Transformers fictional universe is so vast that it upholds contradicting continuities in story lines, but as long as the main characters are there battling, it’s usually accepted. For millennia, two factions of a sentient robot race have been warring relentlessly: the fair and gallant Autobots, headed by Optimus Prime, and the malicious, self-serving Decepticons, led by Megatron. The continuous war led to the destruction of their home planet, Cybertron, and they have since been scattered throughout the universe. The Decepticons’ only desire is to take over the universe, using the technology and machines of inhabited planets to further their species. The Autobots are defenders of life and believe all sentient beings have the right to freedom. Both the Autobots and Decepticons seek the Allspark — a powerful life giving device that the Decepticons intend to use for evil. The Allspark has ended up on earth, and both factions have come to earth to retrieve it. The fate of humanity lies within the sweaty hands of the unsuspecting awkward teenager Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf). Sam has a severe crush on the unnecessarily gorgeous and popular Mikaela (Megan Fox). The teens are swept into the middle of this giant epic robot battle along with other humans—hackers, the military, bystanders—and join the fight for freedom. Sam's crush Makaela is a scantily clad grease monkey who knows more about cars than anyone else in the movie; obviously, she is aimed to entice the primarily male demographic. It is unfortunate that writers Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman chose not to use the "female" (it's pink) transformer, Elita One. It could have brought in more young girls, and sold Hasbro canyons of toys. I've been doing a lot of loitering at the snackbar at AMH this past week, and the movie has been emoyed by more than just men. It wrangles in the general audience because most everyone can relate to technology and the emotional attachments we've developed with our Blackberries, video games, the internet. Even ebaty plays an integral part in the film. Transformers will please the hardcore fans whose bedrooms have been drowning in Transformer figures for the past twenty years, the casual summer moviegoer, parents, boys, sisters, mothers, accountants — whoever. Enjoy! Rated: PG-13

Your Advice, Please.

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 08:13:38 GMT

An odd shade of red versus a large golden mammal. Alright friends the time neareth. I am in Purgatory. St. Peter stands before me wearing Vivaldi's hair piece that he borrowed from my hypothetical boyfriend. Slam: Gavel. Stanford vs. Cal -- ah, that was the question ... big fuckin deal. I knew all along that Stanford was such a stretch (4.5 acceptance rate for transfers... I ain't no math mayjer but I'm thinkin that's a beautiful, majestic, incrediblistic spantastical 95.5 percent rejection rate. Guarded by 136,836,578,000,000 watt/volt electric fencing, dotted fwith lashing orange sirens and green lasers inconspicuously writing "MWAHAHAHAHA" up and down them ivory towas. Not a chance in Hell. In fact, it's probably easier getting into that place, why don't you give it a go? So here I stand before the Gate Guardian awaiting my trial. It has yet to begin, so I had better go to the bathroom since I have to be in here until May, when the verdict arrives. Until then, I ask for your advice, concerns, questions and comments. Have any of you attended the UC of CSU systems, what were your experiences? Pros/Cons of your schools? Do you know anything about anything? BcUz Plzz ShAR3 ^_^

Mexican Independence Day

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 07:42:15 GMT

9/16/06 I'm sitting on the increasingly deflating inflated mattress that I've chosen as my designated bed in lieu of my proper bed which pokes out of the depths of rumpled clothing. Mexican Inedependence day was today or yesterday? Either way mariachi is here in surround sound. Living by myself has usurped the questioning of state of mind, responsibility and the likes -- issues that I've left to MIDI renditions of Sade's greatest hits for the past year or so. So I'm forced to acknowledge. This is hard. I blame school for getting in my way of cleaning up and vice versa. BRB Mama yan tha fo noodles. Back - speaking of yen tha foe, my sister donated cans of food which I assume were beans, mangoes and apples -- the essence of The Young Moo -- as well as packets of MAMA yen ta fo noodles to the homeless. From time to time, I like to imagine the look of the down and out man in Detroit/LA/SF who was handed the pink packet of noodles with the funny writing on it. This is what I'm eating, minus the delicious luk chins and in a plastic purple bowl whose shape is beginning to warp. See, I went as far as to upload a picture of a bowl of noodles.

a pearl that is not round but of unpredictable and elaborate shape

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 07:33:47 GMT

I am *obsessed* with baroque chamber music. It's all I listen to anymore! Well that and koxbox. Vivaldi ... If I were a necrophiliac with a cause, I'd be searching for his grave right now. ALthough now that I think about the logistics, he would no longer be a corpse. Hrm. Get one or more boyfriend(s) to wear a wig and/or have white don king hair and/or play the violin/viola. Sigh Here's an interesting fact y'all! The word baroque derives from the ancient Portuguese noun "barroco" which is a pearl that is not round but of unpredictable and elaborate shape. Hence, in informal usage, the word baroque can simply mean that something is "elaborate," with many details, without reference to the Baroque styles of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. PART DEUX Ah the rain has come. Time to buy a cute pair of golashes to save my other shoes from getting fucked, as I unfortunately learned last fall. I finally took some time to myself today, I transcibed 1/4 of Vivaldi's flute concerto F VI, No. 7 in A Minor by ear -- easier done than said in this case (it costs money for the actual sheet music!) for the recorder and sat around playing. I suppose in the end the music theory class did pay off because I was getting rusty. I'm still really keen on picking up the violin again and the flute. My dad said he'll buy me a new violin if I'm going to stick with it. I don't really have the time for it... in middle school my school work was second to music but in all honesty, during my six years of clarinet tooting.. I never liked that instrument but I never wanted to give up first chair. I always had dreams of playing the flute.. I even began to try to play my clarinet sideways when I practiced at home. I love music. I remember when my dream was to play for one of the Philharmonic Orchestras, but the dwindled when I thought band was geeky and dropped out. Sigh. I need to play again. I feel good!!! I usually sit around fretting and brooding over assignments. Now that I'm re energized I can write this essay. While sipping on this jack and coke. Yes. Tis a beautiful life, oh, oh oh oh. P.S I love you P.P.S Thanks to leatherlongcoat's past suggestion, I have given up coffee for almost three weeks and only drink ginseng and green ... until I buy some more delightful teas. Lovely. Now time to give up .. hrm. Pizza?

Inter-generational IM'ing

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 07:17:51 GMT

excerpt from a previous e-mail: Oh whatever university you get i will be happy for you. Nu look yai..just keep at it..never let the ouside influence take over you..i mean friends..or all external pressures. You have to learn to be resilient..humble...have a lot of perseverance...and keep thinking of mama ..hahahha. I am always there for you..with no money but lot of love and rice. Our conversation in gmail: me: mommy??? hi it's eileen!! can you see my message? i'm doing my homework Rak: yes..hi honey me: hi mom!!!!! Rak: you ARE doing homework and on the net? me: hahahaha yes i had to e-mail the document to myself so i can print it out at school anywqays my computer is always online Rak: mama is just get on in a second ago..Na nok sons is on vacation and they are addicted to games. me: hahahaha they need a healthier activity i remember that time nong note got so excited at the marathon he shoujld run Rak: i basically let them use the computer and watch the cable TV.. i just go up to my room and read...ha noisy..noisy..oh at least they will go see yai soon...so i can walk around maked me: HAHAHA mommy! Rak: are you still working what time is it there? me:6 am i woke up at 4 am midterms studyyy writing a paper I told my friends about the email when u said u have alot of love and rice and they thought it was funny Rak: what friend?//boys!..hahhaha me: hahahahah NO Rak: oh so i do not have to be called grandma so soon..hahha me: they were 4 girls hahaha mom! Rak: tell them hi..eat mama..na ka. me: okay ka no wait u didnt understand this was a few days ago right now i am at home its 6 am u know! i don't go to school at 4 am hahaha Rak: mama just email daddy..and i saw your email..jumpingmmgood me: what? jumping what? Rak: Hi dr. mollie margaret chongruk lewis..hazhhaa i mean on the right hand side..there is something moving me: hahaha you are so silly what time is it over there Rak: ..ans katie told me what to do..oh it is 8:00p.m. me: what did katie tell you Rak: a fwe week ago..mamam what on the gmail..and she saw me on her screen..and she give me direction me: ohhh! you chatted in here too with her Rak: i useaully do not chat..it ia a waste of time me: hahahahaha no its not well sort of Rak: i have ahusband already me: what?! haha what are you taliing about Rak: but now i can talk to you guys.. me: yeah its cool Rak: can i go to hotmail and talk too me: what did u do today mama? no u cannot u have to open a new browser Rak: or i have to saty on this page me: if u close this gmail browser the chat box will close yeah u have to stay on this page, but you can open one more page Rak: see i have RIS mail..amd hot mail. me: ah u hav emany.. are u still getting the gross junk mail Rak: i am going to Hong Kong Novem.10 to 12 for a CONFERENCE..I WILL USE THE NEW airport YES..all the medicine..and enlargment stuff. lucky that i am not a pervert..hahaha me: haha eew! mama i have to finsih my paper na ka i loe talking to u Rak: ok..i need to go to the pther pagre i need to chenck on my stock. i will keep that for you and katie when i die you can get dividend still///just a little bit me: MOM! Rak: bye baby i love you me: i love you mom miss u Options Pop-out Star this chat Go off the record Block Rak

Westcoast Ivy League... Prove It!

eileen_psyamesekat — Mon, 10 Jul 2006 00:09:29 GMT

Tomorrow my class at Stanford begins. I'm shaking in my Demonias. The readings we were assigned to analyze before class started are downright crazy hard. This is my first real upper division level class, so I feel like I'm stepping into the ice skating rink for the first time wearing socks. I'm going to try my damn best. I know I can do it, I'm just really intimidated. Summer school is incredibly difficult. My preconception of summer school originzaed from the mendacious sand box days of yore, when we painted bottles and glued yarn to our foreheads and were given gold stickers regardless of our mental capabilities. What a crock! Fuckers tricked me. Here I am thinking that I'm going to be lounging in the quad sipping on vodka and lemonade lackadaisically moving wooden pieces on an abacus but instead I've unknowingly volunteered to join the People's Republic of Shit You'll Never Need in Life But Have to Learn Because The Board of Education Said So. Minimum 5 hours of math homework (ASIDE from studying) and 4 hours for english. No wonder you don't see me out and about anymore. If i *do* happen to venture out, it's only within a 30 mile radius and it's a quick cameo at that (hah!). To give you a perspective on what's happened to me within the past 7 months: Last night, I woke up in a cold sweat, shaking, eyes filling with tears. My nightmare? Is so embarassing and skewed that I prefer not to share it but I will, simply because it's the monster I've become. I was at a college graduation/funeral in a buddhist temple, more specifically, a crematorium. (My best since grade school, Chris Jay Cleary had passed away two years ago. I always have dreams where he comes back and is about to die.) Anyway, he was smoking a cigarette right outside the graduation. The female graduates were sitting inside the crematorium on the wooden floor in the traditional thai style, legs to the side, feet pointed daintily behind us. I was about to light up a cigarette while sitting in the middle of the ceremony and realized I didn't have a lighter, so I ran out to Chris asking him for a light. He lit my cigarette, and I stood there smoking in silence. I began to hear bells. The kind of soothing temple bells where you can close your eyes and can be at total peace. Instead, they caused me to panic, and I began to choke and thought I was going to die. A masked messenger (wearing a <i>khon</i> mask from the Thai version of the Ramayana called the Ramakien) me a tiny pink envelope. "You're philosophy grades are inside." He walked off. I started choking and opened it up, seeing that I got a B+. I started crying and screaming and kicking over chairs, running through the alleys dialing my Professors cell phone #. I asked him if I could write my paper again ... etc., etc. The main points of the dream being: A funeral A graduation Chris Encounter with an ancient epic fictional character?!! Unhealthy and distorted view on personal grade expectations The really, really sad thing is, is that it's true. I'm going to find out tomorrow, and I fear I'm going to act the same way if that happens to be the outcome. I am a sick, sick human being. See why I don't come out anymoe?? :( :( :( :( I miss you all hope all is well.

welcome back me

eileen_psyamesekat — Sun, 09 Jul 2006 23:49:53 GMT

I haven't posted on tribe since December 05. I've been sucked into the land of LJ and Myspace. The only aspect I like of myspace over tribe is the fact that you can add music to your page (and also, it doesn't look like some drunk person chose the ugliest shade of red they could find and made it near impossible to figure out how to surf a once overly simplisitic networking site). Granted, when people stumble upon your myspace page, the first thing they do is scroll down as fast as they can to press stop on your stupid music player. At least that's what I do. But I feel like I need to educate the masses and tell them that their music sucks, because the majority of my friends listen to .. sucky music. What high horse am I galloping in on with my nose in the air, swooping up the less enlightened and saving them from total damnation? A real pretty rainbow colored one that isn't gay but just really likes rainbows. Alas, I've become so sick of myspace that I'm about ready to delete my account altogether yet so many of my friends from H.S and around the globe are on there so it would just be severing my only tie to them, god forbid either party decides to pick up the phone or press 'compose' in gmail. Lois - I miss you. I keep trying to call you but the number still doesn't work?! I think I have the wrong number typed in.

it's about time.

eileen_psyamesekat — Fri, 16 Dec 2005 10:03:33 GMT

Your crumpled body lies in a heap atop a mountain summit, disheveled to the point where you would embarass an 18th century child worker spawned by the industrial revolution covered from head to toe in soot who lives underground in what you would have no problem calling a dungeon. Clothes that are tattered and filthy hang uselesslly off your body; it's reached the point where it would be to your benefit to just take it all off and be one with nature. Perhaps, you think to yourself, you should have shaved that long horned ram on the way up. Gasping for air.... eyes bulging out of your skull... broken blood vessels and a crazed glare is all that can be seen in your eyes... Sanity has fallen head first into the well, you heard it hit the water with a resonating SPLASH ages ago. You use the last of your strengh to attempt to stand up... but your legs and arms have become useless and hang limp at your sides like lonely wind sockets... then it hits you again. The crazed glare is still there, but behind it, gaining strength, it's now possible to make out a glimmer of what might be strength and underlying fortitude that was there from the start but has since been shrouded by the perils of your journey. You've reached it, you realize! The very top.. for the past 3 and a half years... you have finally made it. The sheer majesty eminating from the surrounding mountains of an unfathomable age reaching so far back in time that the human mind could never possibly comprehend such magnitude.. humbling you, as you are not even of an ant's status nor do you exude an equal presence whilst traversing over such ancient wonder... the age of the mountains is not unlike the vastness of the universe in it's entirety.. and the dimensions within... and the quarks and the neutrons... that took eons to form, the cosmos above, within and below surround and engulf you, enchancing your triumphant glory on this auspicious occasion! With a final push driven only by the desire to succeed, you stand on two legs, having triumphed and conquered to the very end. Perhaps the last one to cross the finish line, but the point is that you crossed it and didn't give up when the going got tough. Tears stream down your face, for you have achieved the unachievable. Attained the unnatainable. In essence, you did it mang, you did it. Move forward ten spaces! COME ON DOWN!!!!! - price is right We came, we saw, we kicked it's ass!!!! (The above can be summarized as: School's out!) It has taken me 3 long years to finally complete one full semester of school without dropping out. Finally, I have pulled my life together, with age comes wisdom I suppose? How many times are you going to trip over that tree root jutting from beneath the soil? Wow that was the most retarded metaphor ever. But really, this is a true accomplishment. These next few school years are going to be a blast. I truly am happy.

The Meaning of Life: Part Two: Growth and Learning.

eileen_psyamesekat — Thu, 24 Nov 2005 11:09:23 GMT

HUMPHREY WILLIAMS: ...And spotteth twice they the camels before the third hour, and so, the Midianites went forth to Ram Gilead in Kadesh Bilgemath, by Shor Ethra Regalion, to the house of Gash-Bil-Bethuel-Bazda, he who brought the butter dish to Balshazar and the tent peg to the house of Rashomon, and there slew they the goats, yea, and placed they the bits in little pots. Here endeth the lesson. The Meaning of Life part v: CHAIRMAN: ...Which brings us once again to the urgent realisation of just how much there is still left to own. Item six on the agenda: the meaning of life. Now, uh, Harry, you've had some thoughts on this. HARRY: That's right. Yeah, I've had a team working on this over the past few weeks, and, uh, what we've come up with can be reduced to two fundamental concepts. One: people are not wearing enough hats. Two: matter is energy. In the universe, there are many energy fields which we cannot normally perceive. Some energies have a spiritual source which act upon a person's soul. However, this soul does not exist ab initio, as orthodox Christianity teaches. It has to be brought into existence by a process of guided self-observation. However, this is rarely achieved, owing to man's unique ability to be distracted from spiritual matters by everyday trivia. [pause] BERT: What was that about hats, again? HARRY: Oh, uh, people aren't wearing enough. CHAIRMAN: Is this true?

eileen_psyamesekat — Mon, 14 Nov 2005 12:01:55 GMT

MC Hawking - A Brief History of Rhyme

eileen_psyamesekat — Mon, 14 Nov 2005 12:01:28 GMT

Last Monday, I was very blessed to attend the most recent public lecture 'The Origin of the Universe' by one of the foremost, prominent, renowned and venerable theoretical physicists of our time, Sir Stepehn Hawking himself! .......... It was fuckin rad! hahaha. How amazing. I was so excited to see this man, a once in a life time experience that I will never forget. Thanks so much to dad for shelling out the 75 bucks a pop balcony seating. Being a public lecture, it never got too technical. It was more of a generalized summary of his new book, "A Briefer History of Time" with Leonard Mlodinow. The pre-recoreded presentation was really brief (it takes him a good 5 minutes to answer questions)but still very interesting. The Q&A section at the end of the presentation was the best. The presenters ignored the questions about Dr. Hawkings views on string theory and the rest of the hundreds of questions that were brought up to the stage on little pieces of paper by those in the audience, but they instead chose the more flippant and casual questions, as if they were getting ready to create a myspace profile for the doctor. Some of those questions were, What does he like to read? And the answer surprisingly was that he doesn't read ever, at all! It would be really hard to turn the pages and he just .. doesn't partake in it. Another was, what internet browser does he use? Netscape He loves spicy curies, enjoys the opera, Wagner and likes to attend art galleries. He was asked about the time he was featured in the Simpson's episode, and what did he think about the possibilities of a Homer-esque donut shaped universe? His response was a bit more serious saying that actual extra dimensions are curled up like a donut. Finally, the ultimate highlight for me, was when the question was brought up of whether he knew about the theoretical gangsta astrophysicist MC Hawking, and the 'A Brief History of Rhyme' CD, featuring classic hits such as The Hawkman Cometh, Big Biz-ang, Fuck the Creationists, Entropy, and All my Shootin's be Drive by's . This was the question I was pondering over for years but to a much greater extent in the coming weeks prior to attnending the lecture, whether or not he knew about this satirical music. YES, he does, and he loves it, thinks it's hilarious, but is sad that he doesn't get any royalties from the cd sales. Someone also asked what his I.Q was, and the reply in his WillowTalk halting inflection was 'I have no clue. People who care about this stuff are total losers.' That had me laughing so loud my dad had to tell me to shut the hell up because the INTELLECTUALS surrounding me might have been disturbed. So yeah, overall, it was a fuckin rad experience, so glad I got to see him. People like him makes humanity as a whole just that much better. THE END.

I've got peas on my head

eileen_psyamesekat — Fri, 12 Aug 2005 01:38:34 GMT

One of the best shows I've seen on T.V in many years is the Andy Milonakis Show, although I can go from hating him to loving him in a matter of milliseconds. I recently found out that he's 29 years old. He has that Gary Coleman Webster deal going on. Here's the most disturbing part of this post. In fact, you will probably try to crucify me sooner or later. Dear Diary, Is it weird that I have a crush on this weird fat retarded kid? I thought he was 13, and now I know he's 29, but does that make me any less of a paedophile? This innocent crush has forced me to step back and take a look at my ghastly, child loving, perverted and head-cemented-in-the-gutter inner self. Is it weirder that he's not even cute and more often than not tends to exude a slightly ... demonic aura about him? I wonder if he's a virgin? Love, Me

you made it

eileen_psyamesekat — Fri, 12 Aug 2005 01:27:33 GMT

The other day I was driving my sister around to pick up job applications. There was this homeless guy in front of the six star factory outlet wearing that corny shirt. Oddly enough, that made my day. And many days to come.

Banter

eileen_psyamesekat — Tue, 09 Aug 2005 00:10:44 GMT

I think this is now the 6th "blog" I have on the "internet". I feel my target goal should be 22 blogs, 5 dedicated soley to what I eat for breakfast every other morning. How about it? As of this afternoon I am a tour guide at the Winchester Mystery House. The beach party this weekend was lovely, thanks to all who made it possible. My contribution was holding the flashlight for Bedouin to gather accelerator fuel at the bottom of the hill. Oh also, I'm trying to get ... here ... (see above image) ... so, if you know of anyone with a spare seat I'd be happy to help with the cost of gas and I have some pretty good 'choons. That would be great, thanks. Have a beatiful day.