So I hope that, like, everyone will have, like, a good Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is really a time for peace and stuff. At my school we, like, talked about what we are thankful for. I said I was, like, thankful for my T.V. and, um, my iPod. My stupid teacher said I would have to, like dig a little deeper. I don’t even know what it’s, like, supposed to mean. What am I, like, supposed to dig? Does she, like, want me to, like, go to an archeological dig or whatever? Like, what am I supposed to dig? I’m like looking around my, like, room and it, like, totally describes me. I have a postcard from, like, my best friend from, like,  Bolivia. I have all the Harry Potter books ’cause, like, I like to read and stuff. I have my walls painted fuchsia and Chartreuse ’cause those are, like, my favorite colors like I said in the first blog thing. I know it’s, like, really late and stuff but my mom doesn’t even know I’m, like, up. I’m really proud of my, like, sneakiness and stuff. Oh Emfrea Kingjee!

So, in all today was a good(ish) day. I woke up semi-early, as James decided to call. I couldn’t go back to sleep because my brother was playing his shitty music intensely loud throughout the house, and at 3pm I met up with Josh and Manny and Colleen and we hung out at Peter Pipers Pizza. good stuff.

Of course, in between the shitty music and my brother dropping me off at PPP, he and his friend Carlos decided it might be fun to go mudding in the lot next to ours. mudding. yes, they did it. I was held as the cameraman and they got some good video. I have shitty cell phone video, but alas, if i need to implicate them in something, I’ve got it.

So after PPP’s, Josh and Colleen had to take off to his uncle’s in Monte Alto to go to a fish fry. So, it being about 5p, we decided we’d hang out a little longer and went to the skating rink. I suck at roller blading. Of course, we stayed there for a long ass time and Manny and Noe still wanted to hang out. I didn’t so much anymore, but they made me. Which later developed into my parents being utterly angry with me. Not fun. But skating was fun. I fell a total of 4 times. Which is decidedly less than when I went ice skating, but then again, when I went ice skating I was holding on to the wall and I still sucked.

I’m just not good with finding my center of gravity.

Either way, after that, we headed to Manny’s house. Still didn’t get dropped off, and headed towards the outlets. Got some Whataburger, because, c’mon, that is GOOD. and eventually, after about 2 more calls from my mom, Noe and I headed back to drop me off. He decided to ignore his GPS’s directions the first time, and that’s where everything pretty much went south.

We got stuck about a mile from my house. 2 miles. whatever, it was pretty close. But fuck, that road has potholes like you would NOT believe. My mom kept texting me angrily, and when I called to see if they could come in the truck to pull us (finally, as we tried to get out by ourselves for a while) she yelled at me, threw the phone at my dad, he didn’t say anything… but he did hang up. SO, we were fucked. So, I called Abraham and he was at BK, but he said he’d come when he was done. Which was more than I could hope for anything, so yeah. We scraped around, sunk our feet into mud and Noe got really down and dirty. It was pretty bad. Finally, my mom called me that she was on her way and that there were at least 3 more pot holes from the one we got stuck in. Either way, we were going to be fucked.  She was yelling at me, told me to walk to the Jimmy and I did. But Noe didn’t want to leave, so I told him to call his dad. I called him after I reached the Jimmy, but he still insisted on staying and for me to leave (as the ‘rents were being atrocious) So I’m home.

Abraham just text me saying that he did go to our stuck site. Then kept texting me that he was helping Noe and that it was really stuck in there. Then he said that as he was leaving Noe’s sister was showing up. So as of 12:10a (we got stuck at 10p) Noe is still stuck over there on mile 1 1/2. FUCK THAT ROAD.

But, because I basically abandoned Noe there, in the mud… I gave him an avocado tree on FarmVille. It doesn’t help, but at least it adds to his tree collection. =]

and P.S. FUCK THAT ROAD.

and also P.P.S. I pretty much really really want to move out right now. I mean, wtf, my dad hung up on me when I actually needed his help with something. What the fuck!

Italians seem to live in a state of semi-contained chaos about most things, but especially about time. Despite most Italians’ philosophical attitude about being ten minutes late to an appointment, they always seem to be in a hurry.   They stand and gulp down an espresso instead of sitting and they drive like they’re taking a woman in labor to the emergency room.  But what’s the rush if you’re already late?

I spent the first few weeks I was here constantly on the go.  In order to get somewhere on time, you have to leave so far in advance! I hardly had time to breathe because I was so busy running to catch a bus or sprinting down a street.  After complaining about this to Aria, our program director/life in Florence guru/friend, she shared a crucial bit of wisdom with me: that semi-contained chaos of Italian life cannot be precisely enough manipulated to allow for promptness.  The only way to successfully get along is to quit fighting and simply eke out the easiest path you can through the muck.  Basically, you either spend tons of time and energy racing to get somewhere on time, or you slow down and accept lateness.

As my harried roommates can attest to, this is still an aspect of Italian life I struggle with.  None of our professors seem troubled by starting class 15 minutes late (one especially lax prof usually arrives after the whole class has assembled), but I am.  I can remain calm until we are actually late, then the panic begins.  Clearly my assimilation to the Italian style of time-management is only skin deep… On the plus side, my legs and my shoulders have gotten a lot stronger this semester, the legs for speed walking to site visits and the shoulders from muscling through hordes of fat tourists on the sidewalks.

My latest battle: my jeans.  My mom sent me some much-needed new jeans (remember my earlier complaining, Blythe?) but they were 4 inches too long, so I sought out a tailor.  After much effort, I finally dropped them off somewhere successfully last Thursday.  They said they’d be ready Friday, which is an awfully long time for one pair of pants to be hemmed, but whatever- we’re on that cute Italian time, you know??  But then I realized these infamous jeans wouldn’t be ready for my trip to Paris this Thursday, and that’s heartbreaking because I really wanted to paint a stylish and well-put together picture of myself for Parisians and Lauren.  So then I went back today to see if I could get them a day early (HA), only to learn that they will actually be ready later than expected because the tailor was “sick.” I say “sick” because Italians are weenies who deem any ailment fatal so they don’t have to work.

This small injustice aside, I love it here.  It’s beautiful and calm and delicious and perfect, but sometimes you just want your damn pants.

It’s arriving something more it’s arriving but now I’m too busy.

PLease wait…

I am a figure known all around the world, to many different people, as many different things. You can simply call me God. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m here to offer you worldly advice or the secret of life or something like that. Well, that’s not it. Seriously, don’t fret about me; I just wanna tell you a story.

It is currently April 23, 2006, 2:47 p.m. We are located in the city of Abbott, Arkansas.

The air in the jail cell is drafty yet warm. It presses on Peter’s skin, forming tiny beads of sweat on his partially bald head. Peter stands at 5′9″, weighs 233 pounds, and has small, watery blue eyes. He is currently squatting on his flat mattress, in his bright orange jumpsuit, reading his Bible. Ironic; he’s never been religious before. That’s no matter, though, no matter. In precisely three hours, and now, nine minutes, he will be killed. He will be killed at exactly 6:00 p.m. and there isn’t anything I’m gonna do to stop it.

Peter had a very classic childhood. He was a shiny boy, born in 1959. His mother wasn’t a feminist, she lived her life the way her mother did. His father was an upstanding citizen, respected by many. Like said, all fairly normal. On his seventh birthday, he was dressed in a yellow and brown striped shirt, he wore a small, paper crown that his mother had bought for him, and he was surrounded by his three brothers and one sister. His sister’s name was Patricia. She was probably one of the most compassionate people he had ever known. Peter’s older brother’s left early for school every day in order to not walk with him and his little brother, Timmy. Patricia always waited, even though she was the oldest. Even if it meant being late, she always waited.

His dad was working late; and with one simple phone call, they sat down and ate meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, and were now watching him blow out the candles. He wished for basic things. A new bike or perhaps that really expensive baseball glove he had picked out at the store. His mother fussed over the candles, and the wax that dripped on the cake. She cut perfectly symmetrical pieces, giving him the first one. He absolutely loved being served first. It was the perfect cake on one of the most perfect days he had lived. His baseball glove was wrapped in a dull green paper with trains on it, and a baseball from his brothers and sister was wrapped in matching paper. They had all made him cards, and his parents had bought him a card. All of this thought had made him smile.

After he went to bed, and had maybe been asleep for twenty minutes, his father crept in. He sat at his son’s feet, and lightly shook young Peter awake. When Peter came to, he smiled at him.

“There’s my boy. You’re growing up so fast. You’ll be a man soon, yah know?” He said quietly. Peter knew he had given the same talk to his two older brothers, but it meant so much more when it was directed at him. It made him feel special. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I wish I coulda been there tonight. You like you’re present alright?” His father’s voice sounded kind, not authoritative like it usually did.

“Yes, sir, it was perfect.” His father smiled at him slightly, patted him on the head, and exited as quietly as possible. Peter drifted off, the excitement of everything slowly waning.

He continued to turn the aging pages of his Bible. This makes me smile, to see his dedication. His eyes are strained. Peter has been reading for quite some time now, determined to finish before he dies. I can see it. He is afraid, though I am certain he has accepted the inevitable. Time has been granted to him, allowing him to come to dread his impending death. He has waited on death row for six long years. Years of routine and dread. What a way to come to an end.

When he was nineteen, Peter got a job at a diner down the street from the University of Arkansas , where he was studying to be an accountant. Though he was extremely bright, financial aid was lacking, so one afternoon he walked into this rustic, cozy diner with the intention of getting a job with his best friend, Jordan. Mrs. Eberle, the owner, made snide comments at him as he filled out his application. Jordan watched as he mopped the floor.

“I can’t be paying you much, especially if you just plan on standing around,” She snapped at him. Peter smiled and took the remark with a grain of salt. He was at the point of desperation.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Eberle, you pay me what you can afford. I promise I’ll work as hard as I can.” She rolled her eyes at his; and Jordan, a tall, lanky, fellow, chuckled to himself.

“I don’t like a kiss ass either. You start tomorrow, three o’ clock sharp! Black work pants, a white t-shirt, and hats are allowed. I’ll provide you with an apron.” She sidled away; and Jordan shot him thumbs up. Mrs. Eberle was rather large, grey haired, and wore over sized glasses. It was ridiculous, how she looked. However, he beamed with pride at the prospect of making his own living for now.

Peter closed his Bible. He laid back on his bed, his mind swirling with thoughts that none of you, I’m sure, could imagine at this point in time. The fear of not finishing taunted him a little bit. It is the one thing he had left to do, the one thing he felt like he might not finish, and here he was lying down, avoiding it all together. Peter all the time felt nauseous with guilt as he read. He wishes desperately to be with normal society, but he feels as though he deserves to be where he is. His eyes closed, and he drifts slightly into a different world than this.

Even though he had been offered overtime that night, he didn’t take it. Emily, his wife of exactly three years today was waiting at home with his favorite meal- meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. His life was going well, but now it felt complete. They were young and head over heels for one another. He entered their small apartment with a tiny bouquet of carnations. He wished he could afford better for his love, but he couldn’t. Right now they were struggling as is, but he was determined to make this night somewhat special.

She wore a red, knee length skirt, white knit top, and an apron. Her brown hair was pulled tightly into a bun. Emily had been working hard all day to get the meal exactly right. Peter swept right in, with a rather flat stomach and full head of hair, and kissed her hard on the mouth. His happiness had reached an all time high, and he never realized how surreal a home life could be.

Emily giggled and put the carnations in a vase, absolutely thrilled with their beauty. As they sat down to dinner, he talked excitedly about his job. She listened with great attention, and never let it falter. After dinner, they sat on their couch. For the time being, they couldn’t afford a TV, but they sat in silence, enjoying each others company.

The warmth in the apartment was different that the warmth in the cell. Now it is sweltering. It is now 4:34 p.m. Soon, he will be served his chosen meal, then taken into another part of the building, and be killed. He jumps up and starts reading his Bible furiously. He is determined to finish.

None of his family would come to Christmas that year. He watched as Emily and Allie, his now nine year old daughter, put up the decorations. He just got in from shoveling the driveway of their small townhouse. Everything was finally coming together; they had the kind of life that Peter had always wanted to build for them. His daughter bounced around, hanging up her favorite ornaments first. She was a small girl, with brown curly hair. She was perfect in his eyes, everything a father could want in a daughter. Peter had been working extra over time these past few weeks to buy his daughter and wife everything they could want. He bought the really expensive porcelain doll that Allie had wanted, and the pearl necklace that Emily would never even admit she wanted.

“Daddy! Daddy! Put me on your shoulders so I can put the star on top. I wanna do it!” She exclaimed, while pulling on his arm. He chuckled softly. He lifted her up; she was so heavy now. Heavier than he remembered. Emily beamed at her family.

I can see now that Peter has given up. He has reached a passage that has made him stop, and can’t go on. Good thing too. It is five minutes until five, and time for him to eat.

The guard opens the door to his cell and hands him a plate with his dinner on it. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, which is exactly what he had asked for. Peter eats slowly, savoring the flavor that dances on his tastes buds. It’s the perfect meal for a horrible ending. He tries not to think about what is going to happen after he is finished. His iced tea is entirely too sweet, not how Emily makes it, but he makes do. Peter is grateful for this last piece of pity he has received before they kill him.

Peter hasn’t had a chance to live a full life, and it’s a shame he doesn’t. Great things will happen after he leaves your world. Do not think me angry or anything. This is not my punishment for him, it’s yours. I do not find him a failure for what has happened. Or a disappointment, I understand that things can happen. Even bad things.

You can see now he was a normal human being trying to live his life the best, and only way, he could. A normal human being, maybe just like you, or your dad, is marched down the hallway. The only one who has come to bid him goodbye is Patricia. She says she loves him, and she’ll miss him. He doesn’t answer, though. He can see the hate in her eyes. Peter doesn’t want to cry. It’s too late for that.

He sits in the chair calmly. The doctor injects a lethal fluid into his arm, and he closes his eyes as his life runs away from him. The memories, pain, and happiness; all of it flees his body. His sister cries harder, and then leaves before the process is complete.

Peter’s body is soon limp and lifeless. He is dead now, and some of the cruel people in the world think society is better off with him gone. Take heed, however. Do not be so quick to cast your judgments on others. A man is dead now, and the people he loves mourn, despite their own judgments about him.

Some can be so horrible and mighty to pass out consequences to others. And who do you think you are exactly?

Like I said, it’s just a simple story. Just a life lost, among the millions I’ve created, and the millions you’ve destroyed. Not a big deal…right?

Well, not long after my last post, I finally received a call from P, the Japanese Bondage gentleman. I was so pleased to hear from him (otherwise I would have cleared my day for absolutely no reason and it would have been a week since my last client), but I was also a bit put off because he called half an hour before i was supposed to be there. I explained that if he wished, I would be more than happy to quickly get ready and get there as soon as possible. I did also remind him, however, that I usually spend about three hours getting ready for my clients and I obviously would not be able to do the same for him. He agreed and not only did he pay for my travel expenses that I mentioned before (I usually charge a flat rate if I have to go outside of my regular zones), but he paid for my cabs as well, which equalled up to about £75. I don’t normally like for my clients to spend extra money on me like that, but it was the only time we could meet and it was going to go past 12am so it was necessary.

The bondage was sensual and an amazingly different feeling. the cotton Indian rope was definitely the softest rope I have ever felt and it felt wonderful when he was running it down my body, wrapping and circling my breasts. The praise I received over the site of my breasts and then seeing them bound up, and sticking out away from my body was exhilarating. I also have to admit that I loved the aesthetic look of it all. I wish I could have videotaped the bonding. He was so very gentle with it all, unrushed and very concerned about not giving me rope burn. I was able to even keep the rope. I will definitely treasure the souvenir and practice my Japanese Breast Bondage.

Join Sirius Satellite because your truly missing out on Greatness. In this clip Howard Stern discusses the size of his unit. He speaks with his mother on the air about it. Hilarious and how I got hooked as a Stern fan. His late 1980’s broadcasts when he went over to K-Rock were my heroin and crack. I was hooked.

Part One

Part Two

I’m bleeding all over the bandage box.

There’s blood on a 20 bucks.

The cashier flinched some as she clenched fresh mushrooms

All right, I was re-shopping at 3 in the night.

If you ask, I was too clearly too early after waking to take up the task

Of red sauce for 20, and due to new knives

Just sharpened that morning

I sliced a thumb along with a nice onion  then

I  compromised , handily,  red sauce for 20 family

With my own red sauce, now burning

W/dangerous genes to scald a newborn or

 Imaginably an  std that they

or even me would never dream of,

(One of the wages of  a dream love)

So I ditched  that batch.

Shoot,  it’s surely less polluted 

Than the bloody mix up merlin

Stirring on his convoluted Special,

Spilling in too much as usual.

Darren Dods scores a last-minute headed winner for Dundee United at Tannadice in a pulsating match…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: soccer league table. The blog is also related to: soccer tickets.

Well, its 2′o clock in the morning and here I am sitting in front of my lappy. This isn’t new to me as I am used to staying up late into the night. But today is different. Almost everyone of the 250 odd children of my hostel have gone to sleep. Am still sitting an staring at my desktop [which happens to have Deepika Padukone as the background image ] and listening to “500 Days of Summer OST” [the movie was awesome and so is the sound track]. I wanted to read some book, but the only one I was interested was taken by another friend. So am still sitting and staring [but the track's changed-it's now Broken-Lifehouse]. Having nothing to do I started to reflect on my day and realised that I woke up at 3 in the afternnon, missed lunch,had snacks, then dinner and then watched “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind“, played Counter Strike for an hour and chatted with an old friend.That’s all I did the entire day.

Now I will have to pause for some time as am going on a walk with some friends. I know it sounds odd, but trust me, nothing is more refreshing and soothing as a walk at 2:30 in the night with friends in Goa in the month of November

My next post will come soon and I guess it will be about something more important. Till then, adios

Acid Jazz Records will celebrate their 21st anniversary in some style at a venue just a hundred yards from the east London label’s legendary and late lamented Blue Note club in Hoxton Square.

The label, founded by Eddie Piller and Gilles Peterson back in 1988, became a buzz word in itself and provided a welcome antidote to the bleeps of acid house that swept all asunder in late ’80s clubland. Artists like Brand New Heavies, Jamiroquai, Galliano, Terry Callier, Paul Weller, JTQ, Corduroy, A Man Called Adam and a whole host of others found a natural home at the indie label that pushed back the musical boundaries

The birthday party, hosted by Eddie Piller features dj sets from some of the best dj’s associated with the label’s long and varied history, including Chris Bangs, Ali B, Snowboy, Dean Rudland and Andy Lewis playing a mix of Jazz, Soul, Beats, Funk and Northern + a hip shaking live set of soul, jazz and funk from The Filthy Six.

Expect a spectacular one-off!

Author: Sandra Stammberger -
Source: articleage.com

If you’re a movie lover, and you, dvd, incessantly rent DVDs, the recent wave and exponential growth of the popularity of online DVD rental stores should please you. The Internet’s ability to offer you literally any product has grown. Now you can rent DVDs and video games through the Internet and at a serious advantage to your local Blockbuster too, dvd, .

Sites like Netflix.com offer numerous advantageous, dvd, to the “old” way of renting DVDs. For example, you get to choose from almost 50,000 different titles. Imagine the size of a, dvd, Blockbuster that held that many, dvd, choices! You get, dvd, all the new releases, dvd, when you want them. No more waiting to see a movie. There are no late fees whatsoever. That’s a savior to some people! There is free shipping to and from your doorstep! There are also no long term contracts and you can cancel your economically, dvd, priced membership anytime you’d like!

It’s so simple that even, dvd, a child could do it! After filling out some basic information, you simply add whatever movies you’d like to see to a queue, dvd, and they arrive at your doorstep! Most membership prices range from $4.99 a month to $39.99 a, dvd, month. Obviously, the more expensive plans allow for you to take, dvd, out more DVDs at one time.

DVD turnaround time is amazingly speedy. DVDs usually arrive in my regular mail within one or two days after ordering, dvd, . And when I return DVDs, the company usually receives them in about the same time. Keep in mind I’m not paying ANY postage fees as well!

Keep your DVDs as long as you, dvd, want, too. You won’t be charged any late fees at all! Keep a movie for two months if you’d like! Of course,, dvd, that makes, dvd, no sense, but you can do it if you please! This prevents you from forgetting to take movies back and paying late fees that cost more than actually buying the movie! The money you save from late fees per month is alone enough to cover, dvd, the cost for this service!

All in all, it’s a simple, dvd, choice. For simplicity, to save money and to have a better selection: online DVD renting is the way to go and will be the way to go for years to come!

Harvest (324/365 11-20-09)

Originally uploaded by CarusoPhoto

I was driving around north-western Illinois just looking for photographs. I saw a small cemetery at the side of the two-lane I was traveling and decided to explore. I saw this garbage can overflowing with old flowers juxtaposed with the late autumn field and just knew it was somethings I wanted to photograph.