If it's not Raven, it's crap...

Before you ask: 1.) No, I don't know why her hair's braided and 2.) I don't know where the Jesus-Bling came from. All I know is that it's not my fault. My niece Zoe just seems to be a walking photo op these days. She's a pretty cool kid, though. Funny as hell... I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon at my brother Darron's house in the ghetto. He got a computer awhile back and needed my help, as he bas-i-cally doesn't really have the slightest clue where to begin with the thing. All he knows is a.) he MUST have one b.) it's supposed make his life easier c.) all of this is somehow done mag-i-cally. It's always a trip when I go over to his house (or whatever house he is living in at the moment). My oldest brother hasn't always been involved in the most upstanding of activities and his house is the place where ghetto meets fabulous in a big way. Darron popped by my parents house (unannounced) to come pick me up to fix/look at his computer.

"M-O-O-M, that spells Mom" In the last 2 years or so, I've started a horrible habit. One that I really should try to break. More and more, I find that I speak of my mom in the past tense. This is a horrible habit, namely because my mom is still alive. And it's hard because I love telling stories about her, but the person that she is now is nothing like the person she was when I was growing up -- or even the person that she was, say, 5 years ago. The summer after my freshman year in college, my siblings and I started to notice that my mom was becoming more and more forgetful. She would ask us the same questions over and over, but without recollecting that she had already asked the question multiple times before. At first, it really got on our nerves. My mom had always been a great caregiver and we just assumed that she was just trying to be helpful, but figured she could be doing it in a less annoying way. And we didn't hestitate to tell her this. Near the end of t

A (somewhat) wise(-ish) man once told me that "happiness is a big bed". He was kinda on to something, I think. Don't get me wrong, happiness can also be many other things, but having just graduated from the World's Most Uncomfortable Bed to possibly the exact polar opposite of that, I do have to admit there is definitely a correlation between general happiness levels and bed size/comfyness.

Just thought y'all would like to know It all started that summer before I left for Germany after my sister Robbyn and I went to go see the remake of the movie Dawn of the Dead . Wait, no -- allow me to correct myself -- before she tricked me into seeing the remake of the movie Dawn of the Dead by promising me a 6-pack of the beer of my choice. On the ride back home we got into an argument about what would happen should one of us be bitten by a zombie and eminent zombiehood were approaching. Robbyn's point of view: If she gets bit, she'd want to be shot in the head right away before she could become a zombie. Additionally, should I be bitten first...she'd preemptively shoot me without a second thought (because "you know, it's, like, gonna happen anyway). My point of view: If she were to get bitten by a zombie I'd let her bite me (not in the face) and then we could be zombies together. Frankly, I was hurt when she told me she'd shoot me...and we didn'

Not so good news: In my case, it doesn't necessarily mean that my stuff is in the same place that I left it. Problemkind in Training: Can you feel the love tonight? Home Sweet Home ... or something to that effect. I finally made it back to Oklahoma City. The flight was a huge (albeit semi-anticipated) hassle, as my plane out of NYC spent about two hours on the runway waiting in line to take off, which in turn caused me to miss my connecting flight to OKC from Houston. I managed to sleep through most of the flight from NYC to Houston -- an amazing feat, since I normally have trouble sleeping in planes. I think I figured out a trick... if I pretend that a plane is just a big flying car, then I can just doze right off. Because I love sleeping in cars. I've always loved the approach down into Oklahoma City. During my college days, coming back to Oklahoma for Christmas or the summer meant that I could get away from the insanity that was Smith College. When the wheels touched the gro

Q: Are we crunk or drunk in this picture? A: A lil from column A and a lil from column B Last night I went on a pub crawl through the East Village that was organized by Katie's friend Ali. Since I'm leaving on Monday, I was pretty much looking forward to hanging out, drankin and generally having a blast before I have to go back to Oklahoma: Native America (not that I can't have a blast there as well, but it might be awhile before I see Katie and Co again...and you know how "last hurrahs" go). Ali and her roommate Sarah live in a hoppin little section of the East Village where there are booze locales as far as the eye can see. I'm talking one right after the other right after the other. Ali had planned it out so that we would visit a handful of these places and then end up at everyone's favorite dive bar before calling it a night. And drink we did. The first stop was a swanky-swank bar called The Dove. Our band of merry women and man (Cossar: the lone boy w

Some of you know and some of you don't, but I arrived back in the States last Thursday -- my departure basically as hasty and unorganized as my arrival. Despite the horrible head cold that plagued me during the plane ride to NYC (and the 7 hour train ride to the Frankfurt airport) I was pretty psyched to be back in the US and about seeing my Non-Sexual Life Partner , Katie, and a host of other Smith alumnae, including: Courtney and Hannah (for the former's Weetibug initiation on Saturday) Jess and Sabs (for an Edison One reunion special and chinese food good times on Tuesday). So many in-jokes, so little time. In fact, I was so psyched that I remarked to Jill, a fellow CBYX program participant, that I could do my "so- happy-to-be-here-interpretive-dance-in-the-form-of-an-irish-jig if I didn't have this pesky cold." So, in an act of infinite kindness, Jill offered to perform the dance for me. Even though her version was not an irish jig, I think it accurately conv

It's been a long time I shouldn't have left you Without a dope beat to step to... I know, I know I've been "gone" like a week. But that is a long time...like in dog years or something. And, if you hadn't noticed, I've done gone off and gotten myself a new blog... Why? Because I fuckin felt like it, that's why (pardon the harsh language). I mean, I could probably list of a bunch of reasons why, but they'd basically just be half-assed ways of me saying...well, you know...the previous statement. That said, the basic concept hasn't changed at all. I'll still be writing updates about what I've been doing and posting random shit I find and that I think is funny/interesting/generally worth sharing. Consider it my small gift of procrastination to you. You're beautiful people. You really are.