sábado, noviembre 30, 2002

Matt Damon's Mother After Seeing Dogma:

(Assuming Matt Damon's mother is Jewish. Or Yiddish. Or something. You know.)

"Oy, we spend all that money on Harvard for you to make a movie where you use foul language. And you don't even live through the whole thing! Are you sure your agent isn't trying to pull wool over your eyes?"

It's not like it was a bad movie. It was a good movie, I thought. I agreed with a lot of it.

But it felt like it lacked something. I dunno.

posted at 23:33 ||

viernes, noviembre 29, 2002

TheSpark, an Injustice has Been Done

A long, long time ago. TheSpark was a great humor website, with science projects such as the Stinkyfeet Project, the Stinkymeat Project, the Fat Project, the Date-My-Sister Project; and editorials and tests galore.

Then Christian Rudder left. Okay, I thought, it'll be alright. Oh, how wrong I was. They sold out, making ad sponsored tests that were just stupid in comparison to the other tests. It's bad right now.

So I took it off my links list.

It was a good run, while it lasted. But, as all good things go, this one went the way of...hell, I don't know, Barbara Streisand.

posted at 10:36 ||

miércoles, noviembre 27, 2002

Things in My Email Box

I get a newsletter thing that puts out the schedule for A&E with the hopes of knowing when Armadillo will come on at the first of the month. This month's had a slot that caught my eye:

9:00 Cleavage. Sexy and fun, this 2-hour special surveys mankind's
fascination with breasts and cleavage, from the goddesses of antiquity to
today's silicone-enhanced TV and film stars. Offering their opinions on why
two simple mounds of flesh have wielded such power through the ages will
be comedian Joan Rivers; Cosmopolitan's Helen Gurley Brown; a plastic
surgeon; a female body builder; and others. Narrated by Carmen Electra.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

posted at 22:49 ||

martes, noviembre 26, 2002

What About Thanksgiving?

Everyone is just brushing off Thanksgiving. To most people, it's like the crazy rich uncle that no one wants to talk to, but vies for his money. To most people it's just a weekend of great sales before the almighty holiday, Christmas.

Today I was at the library, and they were handing out candy canes. Mom has already put up the Christmas decorations and gotten out the Christmas music. Last night on Fox there was a Christmas family videos thing kind of like AFV. My friend drives to school listening to Christmas music.


Thanksgiving won't forget. Vengeance will be hers.

posted at 11:29 ||

domingo, noviembre 24, 2002

Today's Lecture Will be Delivered by:

My dad.

It seems that he can't be around anyone outside the immediate family (even then) without feeling the need to prove his intellect and flaunt his vast ocean of knowledge.

Take my aunt, for instance. It seems that every time my dad is around her, he never fails to proceed with a dissertation of sorts. She'll bring up some topic, and lo and behold, my dad will konw the entire history of the topic. No shit.

What brings this up is that today the said aunt dropped by with some stuff for us. She mentioned that she went on the Santa's railroad thing, and she commented on how smooth the ride was comparted to the other railroads she'd been on. Dad informed her that the tracks on this railroad are welded, and kept on and on about how this specific railroad had been started somewhere in the Carolinas, and that the trellis bridge near over the Clinch River has been in books....blah blah blah blah.

Every time.

To cite further examples, I remember at one of the funerals I've been to in the past couple of years, he sat there and preached at the same aunt about something I can't remember, but I do remember sitting there watching him, feeling totally ashamed for him.

I don't know about the float, as I was away from him nearly the whole evening, but I'm sure he was on about something or another.

This is the guy who checked out a textbook on the geological history of America from the public library, for god's sake.

posted at 13:41 ||

viernes, noviembre 22, 2002

Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful/But the Fire is So Delightful

That's right, boys and girls! SNOW. Nothing to stick, really, but it was snowing most of the day.

My friend Mandy said of it, "I hate when it snows and doesn't stick. It's like when Cole strips his clothes off and doesn't follow through."


So tomorrow (at the game), we'll probably have to contend with this same sort of weather: cold, spitting snow, wet. I don't envy the other team, having to drive the entire way from Honaker on a bus in this weather.

No siree...

posted at 16:36 ||

miércoles, noviembre 20, 2002

thanksgiving is always fun
That is quite possibly the funniest family-related story I've ever read or heard.

I have got the hugest zit on the left side of my nose. Apparently it's like an oil field, where there's a little on top, but to get to the real deal, you have to dig deeper. In accordance with this line of thinking, the bulk of the zit is somewhere near the bone.

Stupid fucking paper.

posted at 21:45 ||

Last night, my bowels moved as the Ganges, both in quantity, and in quality.

And you know, there's nothing more wonderful than waking up and taking a plunger-worthy shit first thing in the morning.

posted at 14:23 ||

martes, noviembre 19, 2002

Meet Bob. Bob has plans for the evening to practice for his auditions come the new year. Well, tough shit, says his english teacher. I'm not going to let you. You have to read Hamlet and write a paper for me.

Bob dreads an evening reading Victorian English, wishing rather to eviscerate himself and be done with it.

posted at 14:49 ||

lunes, noviembre 18, 2002

speaking of alaska
Regarding my previous post, not wanting to sound shallow is negated by the goal discussed, isn't it?

Thought so.

posted at 11:13 ||

This trip has made me realise a few things:

  • I need to be practicing my ass off for auditions coming up
  • I need to be working on my VCU applications
  • I can't wait for college

That last one is just a re-affirmation. I've known I wanted to be out of high school since I was a freshman.

I had a good time. I did some thinking during the trip. Mostly nonsense stuff. For example, I came up with a way to speed up how we find out how well we did for All-District auditions using Microsoft Access. That is, if they don't do it already.

And I was wondering who to take to the prom. But it's November. The prom is in May! You've got ages! you say. But that's precisely my point: it is November. Already. Seems like band camp was just yesterday and here it is the Eighteenth of November. I've got five months to arrange a date, tux, dinner reservations, corsage, transportation, pictures, etcetera, etcetera.

And apart from all that, I've actually got to think about who I'm going to take, which is a dilemma in itself. After going to the prom three consecutive times, I've decided I'm going to this one with a goal: to make out at least once during the course of the evening. Now, I can't take last year's date, because she ended up being a bitch (but not there, only lately). There's another girl, let's call her Susie, who is definitely interested in me, but as she isn't the type to make out, she is put in the last-resort pile (that is, if she isn't involved with Other Dude come prom).

Then there's the other one, let's call her Hermione, who would definitely go and I could probably get her to make out with me, but she's a freshman. And as shallow as this sounds, I don't want to be the only loser who brings a freshman to the prom, especially because I'm a senior. And she might be involved with Soccer Dude come prom.

Then there's Betty Sue, who would definitely be an enjoyable time, both with the company and with the making out, but she is involved with College Dude, and I have seen them go at it, so that leaves that end of the date-ship open to all sorts of questions: Would she feel uncomfortable? Would I feel uncomfortable? Would I feel like I needed to watch myself because College Dude will come back and slit my throat? Does she have plans to invite College Dude to her senior prom? If so, that leaves me with nobody, which is kind of a twist of fate, because I've been saying for a while now that I'll probably end up going this year alone.

All alone.

How much fun would that be? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Or I could invite College Dudette, but last year there were so many alumni there, you'd think it was some sort of frat party. Plus she's already had her go-round, so it wouldn't be fair to the others.

Then there's Green Wave Girl, but she goes to another school, and they'll have their own prom, and I wouldn't want to get tangled up with having to go to two proms, and having to drive for 1.5 hours to fetch her. Same goes with any of my Wise County peeps.

I really don't want to go alone. And I certainly don't want to spend the evening at home.

What's a guy to do?

posted at 10:43 ||

domingo, noviembre 17, 2002

things i don't like #1

about my body

  • the hair that is spreaking like kudzu from my legs upward.
  • the fat that isn't absolutely essential to my survival
  • all the fucking zits. everywhere.
  • the receding hairline

things i like #1

about my body

  • the way one of my front teeth is longer than the other
  • my hands
  • the way my second toe is the longest damn thing on each of my feet
  • my height
  • my hair color
  • the freckle on the bottom-most section of my left index finger

posted at 15:51 ||

jueves, noviembre 14, 2002

and they swooned at the sight of him...
Things pertaining to me that have been freaking me out:

  • There are these two little girls that hang around the band room because apparently they have the hugest crushes on two of the weiredest members in the band. One of them is really pathetic (kind of like Helga on Hey, Arnold!, except for the stone cold bitch part), but the other one is not as bad; nevertheless they are still both girls. Anyhow, one of them told me that on Halloween, a little trick-or-treater showed up at her grandpa's house dressed like me. Complete with trumpet and everything. According to said girl, someone asked the little boy who he was dressed as and he said my name. This horrifies me, because I do not wish to be anyone's role model. It scares me to think that out there, some little boy wants to be just like me.... Jesus, isn't one enough?
  • Today after school as I was walking home, I got to just outside of the building around the flagpole where there were two guys and a girl just standing around. One girl was the "Mary" and the other was the "Rhoda", and they were both obviously floosy-ing over the guy standing there. I didn't like the look of the guy; he was the type of guy to look at me in my birkenstock sandals with socks and trumpet case and backpack stuffed full of books and think "queer," the deadliest of words to be accused around here. Just as I passed them, Mary and I made eye contact and she said, "You look like Cole Baty." My retort: "That's because I am." What the hell? I've never seen this girl before, and she knows my name? This isn't the first time.
  • In the same vein, tonight at work, a minivan came through the line and after the woman had placed her order, a little boy poked his head up to the front of the vehicle and said, "Are you Cole Baty?" I affirmed his question, and he said that he thought so, because he'd seen me playing at pep rallies. What the fuck? Who is this little boy? How does he know my name? They don't announce it at pep rallies.

Frankly, I'm scared. I had no idea my name was this widely known.

I'm going out of town until Sunday for VCU's open house. Which means that my nemeses/solo backup will be playing the solos this Saturday. Not that I speak ill of my fellow band geeks, but I would want to be in the bathroom during the halftime show.

Ooh, I won't be in band class tomorrow! Thank you sweet Jesus Damn.

Hopefully, during the ride/drive up there, I'll catch up on some reading. With the help of my CD player, of course.

Adieu, mon pommes de terre.

posted at 23:56 ||

martes, noviembre 12, 2002

A while back, about May, I was flipping through Newsweek, I believe, and came across an article similar to this (which is not from Newsweek, but rather World Press), which is an article explaining how hydrogen, if developed and marketed properly, could be the next major fuel resource, for when coal and oil run out. Essentially, the hydrogen could be used in fuel cells. Fuel cells are wonderful because their only waste is water. When I came across the Newsweek article, I thought it was so important that I copied it and took it to the chemistry teacher (who probably hasn't even read it, even now). The article mentioned the applications of fuel cells in the automotive industry.

Then today, I was flipping through Time magazine, and came across an article about the Hy-wire (link courtesy GM). The Hy-wire uses Hydrogen fuel cells with by-wire technology to make a car that looks like something on the Jetsons. All of the controls are electronic rather than mechanical, and it's customizable, meaning (apparently) that one can switch the steering column between the traditional driver's seat and passenger's seat. The on-board computer, the fuel cells, the hydrogen tanks, and the electronic equipment are all housed under the cabin in the chassis, which looks like an oversized off-road skateboard.

Apart from being the most environmentally safe vehicles, this is the coolest looking car I've ever seen. The article I've linked to doesn't have the pictures that Time Magazine does, but the ones that were in Time looked really cool. The designers made gratuitous use of the fact that the car doesn't have to carry a combustible engine in the front, so it's a lot roomier. And the steering wheel is no more; it has been replaced by a steering column.

I know most of you don't give a fuck, but this is really important. I just wanted to do my part to get it out there.

posted at 22:24 ||

lunes, noviembre 11, 2002


  • A+ on my paper for my english class, thank you very much.
  • PACE banquet. It was nice. There could have been some dancing and party stuff after the eating, but it was good otherwise. Got to see all my Wise County peeps, yo.
  • I spent nearly the whole day out of school playing at random places. Good times all around.
  • My absence was noticed, and not just by teachers taking roll. Yay.


  • Because I missed all this school, I've got a lot of makeup work to do, namely calculus and watching my other AP classes which doesn't look like it's going to happen
  • I didn't get on the all PACE team, which I was kind of hoping for. I mean, I was noticed by fucking R.A. "Buddy" Shull at multiple matches, and that I have word from our coach that the other coaches were asking about me because i was kicking ass all over the place. *sigh*...
  • I missed a note on the star-spangled banner this afternoon. Dad noticed. It bothers me.

I'm super-stoked about the paper, though. Four hours of lazy-ass spacing out hardcore researching and writing paid off. I even got a note that said "Excellent work!" I'm so happy! And over a stupid paper that won't mean a thing in a year, but it doesn't matter!

And with that, I leave you.

posted at 21:41 ||

domingo, noviembre 10, 2002

Remind me to get the following two people to write letters of recommendation to JMU's school of music, for which I have an audition on Feb. 17.

  • Scot Fleming
  • Ron Wilcox

posted at 15:06 ||

On the bill for tomorrow:

  • 9:00 - be at the elementary school to play 'taps' for their veteran's day program
  • 11:30 - leave high school for veteran's day program cum tank dedication I'm playing at
  • sometime - be back at the high school to play 'taps' again for high school's veteran's day program
  • 5:00 - leave from high school to PACE banquet in Norton.

I know that doesn't sound like much, but trust me, it entails a lot of running around.

I went shopping yesterday and got (yes, another list):

  • two sweaters for $13 (score)
  • a new dress shirt ('cause you know, i needed it)
  • W;t (very powerful. now I must acquire the movie)
  • the Hannibal soundtrack

And I also ate at Fazzoli's. Mmmm....

posted at 14:35 ||

viernes, noviembre 08, 2002

why oh why...
...can't I have a body like this?

posted at 15:04 ||

a little late
But here it is. Have a look.

From salon.com by Tom Tomorrow.

posted at 11:08 ||

In a blind and hurried effort to make a works cited page for my research paper due sometime next month, I think I've found what I'm going to write it on: Nietzsche's justification of athiesm. Or something.

It might help if I'd actually read the sources I put down. I'm gonna have to go to the Johnson City Public Library to see if those books are even there that I put down so I can actually use them. It's hard to find stuff concerning Nietzsche in this area. Probably because of the subject matter associated with it.

Anyhoo, I feel a bit better about it now.

Tomorrow I'm going out. Then I have to work.


posted at 10:46 ||

miércoles, noviembre 06, 2002

Thir13en Ghosts Reviewed
This movie is retarded. The premise is as follows: basically, some crazy motherfucker needs to capture twelve specific ghosts that will power this eye of hell, which is a means of all-powerfulness. In the beginning of the movie, the guy dies while capturing the last ghost...or does he? So then, months later, Tony Shaloub (aka Monk), whose family is riddled with debt and death, inherits the family fortune that Crazy Uncil Cyrus (aka crazy motherfucker) squandered on the eye of hell and catching ghosts to power it. They get to the house and are met by Matthew Lillard, the crazy psychic pussy that Cyrus employed to help catch ghosts, posing as a power man. As it turns out, he's there because Cyrus owes him a lot of money.

A lot of things don't add up in this movie. For one, Uncle Cyrus. We see him at the beginning with a fender through his neck and blood running down his fine clothes. Then later, we and the characters see him, but the special ghost-seeing glasses aren't needed to do so. So he's alive, you think. But he's still got the gash in his neck and his clothes are still all bloody. So he's dead. But then Monk gets in a fight with him and the dude ends up with a bloody nose. And then he gets tossed into the whirring globe of death and is torn to shreds. So he's alive...right? Well, obviously, if he could bleed and get torn up by the whirring globe of death, then he's alive. But if he's alive, don't you think that after all that time, he would have cleaned up a little bit?

And on and on...

And there are supposed to be twelve ghosts to power this eye of hell, and they have to be certain ghosts, like the withering loved one (who turns out to be Monk's dead wife. Go figure), and the juggernaut, and the tortured soul, the jackal, the fallen prince, the big-ass-dude-with-railroad-spikes-all-in-him, etc. And then the failsafe, the only thing that can turn the machine off, is a ghost created out of love, out of sacrificing his life for others. Sweet, isn't it? But then there's one ghost whose name is "The Great Child and the Dying Mother" which is actually two ghosts. So if you add them all up, you actually already have thirteen ghosts, and the failsafe would be the fourteenth.

From the title (which, if read properly, sounds like "thirthirteenen ghosts"), to the ending, the whole thing is utterly stupid and hardly worth the money spent to make it, and the money we paid to rent it.

posted at 11:37 ||

martes, noviembre 05, 2002

630 + 520 = big disappointment
So, my SAT scores came back today. I could have sworn I did so much better in my math. Oooh...

I'm so disapponted. I dreamt of making somewhere around 1450, but obviously my subconscious isn't operating at the same frequency as the future. I'm not as disappointed with my Verbal score (guess which is which) as I am with my Math score. I mean, they both went up ten, which is good, but, I know I can do so much better.

And why the fuck am I worried about these arbitrary numbers anyway? It's not like they really asses my reasoning skills. It's just a standardized test.

Anyhoo, maybe tonight will pick my mood up.

posted at 15:47 ||

lunes, noviembre 04, 2002

a query
Nathaniel and I are watching television, when he says:

him: Why do the floors in the huts on Gilligan's Island look like concrete?
me: That is a good question.
him: And if they can build a fucking stage so Ginger can make a movie, why don't they just fix the damn boat and go the fuck home.

He's a funny guy sometimes.

posted at 21:15 ||

open mouth, insert foot
Boy, do I feel stupid. Today, after forgetting completely about the youth for youth concert this morning and getting there thinking I was late but was actually on time (yes!), I had a big discussion with Alexis and somehow separation of church and state came up, and I argued that it was used to keep religion out of the government. Which is totally the opposite of what it's supposed to be.

And to make it worse, we lost our PACE match this evening. Against Burton. Andrea, if you're reading this: *flips you the bird*. Muahahahahaha... But really, congratulations, and I hope you kick Kelly's ass Wednesday. I sure would have liked to.

Anyway, so after spending an entire weekend with my eyes buried in To Sir, With Love, I come to discover that it was all done in vain. My poor eyesight ruined, all so I could answer three questions dealing with the fucking book. And the books theme is basically "Oh, woe is me. I'm black and oppressed. Boo hoo." Eh. Get over it, I say. But that's just me.

Tomorrow's election day. And, as there's no school, a big group of us are planning and going to some meal late in the evening. Yay! Group things are always fun. With the exception of the couples doing...couple things. That always makes me really lonely...(cue audience saying "aww...." sympathetically).

Anyhoo, dear readers. I'll see you later.

posted at 21:02 ||

domingo, noviembre 03, 2002

shame...so much shame
God help me, but I like that Everwood show on the WB.

posted at 18:58 ||

I had my symphony Concert, which I forgot to tell Rachel about, and which caught me by surprise, so I was actually late to the pre-concert rehearsal. Or something...anyway, I consider it payback from last week when I was the only trumpet and we had to do fuckin' Capriccio Italien. Eh.

They (being my employer. funny how the english language is, huh?) tried to call me into work today, but luckily I had remembered about the goddamn concert. Eh.

I read To Sir, With Love for the goddamn PACE match tomorrow. Which we're going to lose because it's against those J.J. Kelly motherfuckers. Now, if only I could brush up on all the math I've ever learned. Eh.

Um...I'm not really this depressed right now.

posted at 18:51 ||

viernes, noviembre 01, 2002

I just realised that, in addition to saving my paper's file with the wrong name (11-2paper.doc as opposed to 11-1paper.doc, you know, because it's due today, the first), I also forgot to put the inline citation in the very last sentence of the paper.

So, for you, Ms. Gibson, here it is, in corrected form:

During the murder of Becket, the opinion of the Chorus of women, representing the population’s consensus, changes from lamenting at Becket’s arrival, and now lament at his death, saying, “We are soiled by a filth that we cannot clean, united/to supernatural vermin,/It is not we alone, it is not the house, it is not the city/that is defiled,/But the world that is wholly defiled” (Eliot 74).

And the last paragraph before the Works Cited page is center align.

Ruin my day. Damn.

posted at 14:40 ||

ucmycav no more
My *cough* nemesis in band was in an automobile accident yesterday that totaled his automobile. He was trying to get to work because apparently he was running late, and was sideswiped or hit int he side or something; bottom line is, his car flipped completely over, his seatbelt broke, and his airbags deployed, thank god. He has personalized license plates that read "ucmycav" ("you see my cav"). No more.

*hides glee*He's alright. He's at home now, recuperating.

I'm watching my AP English tape right now, and the teacher just made fun of me.


posted at 14:13 ||

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