Upon Further Review

In hindsight, the last post was a waste of your time. That is, if you even read it.

And this is sleepy Ray, a very poor evaluator of quality. Usually, this is the state that causes me to review my own work later. Sad, really.

Bloggin' downtown.

Okay, with a view of downtown. If I had a cellphone...well, the money to use the cellphone with, I'd post a pic of the lovely view. Alas, I'm stuck here in English 101, waiting to turn in a paper that's probably not complete, as well as a reaction paper only a true bullshitter like myself could enjoy. Also, I'm nodding off at perhaps inopprotune moments.

Like sitting up in science, whilst the professor is going over the lab. I wilt like a flower in heat.

Or eating lunch. Nothin is quite as embarassing as going narco with a slice of mini pizza in hand.

That, and I have "Henry VIII, I Am" stuck in my head.

I'm Hen-a-ry the eighth I am...

I'm also analyzing the lyrics. Think about it: if you're this Henry dude, why in hell are you marrying her? Not only has she been married secen times before, but every one was a Henry. She wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam? I don't think it's you she lusts after, amigo. I think it's your...name. How sad.

So I'll admit, I do aim to get it stuck in your head. And if you know the song, it should be blaring by now..

I'm Hen-a-ry the eighth I am...

Heh.

Oh, to be a dude tonight.

#2 Boston College @ #8 Virginia Tech. An amazing game at one of college football's best stadiums. At night. Boom.

World Series, game 2: Colorado @ Boston. Perhaps the series-maker or breaker for the Rockies. Woot.

And the season premiere of Scrubs, a dramadey that men can actually get behind.

Testosterone, ho!

It's coming...

Photo from Flickr user TIO.

Yeah, I secretly love being horribly ambiguous about this, but yeah, it is coming. You could very well guess or even know exactly what it is if you've read my other blogs (ie MySpace) or actually talk to me, but all I've got left to say about this is...no. Nothing more. I almost gave it away there.

Anyway, I'm sorry about the lack of updates for all zero of my loyal readers out there, I swear, I've been writing funny stuff. Or at least...eh, I've been writing. I even had a pretty decent running diary of last Monday going, but my dog ruined my notes. Seriously. How ironic, the dog messing up what I should have done instead of schoolwork.

Anyway, more posting to come. I swears.

Riddle me this: WHY DOES A 10 YEAR OLD NEED A CELL PHONE?!

Success (OR: Surely one step closer to 2012)

Losing My Credibility As A Mature Sportswriter (Before I Really Even Get Started)

Tonight's starting pitcher for the Yankees? Chen-Ming Wang (a former Clipper, I might add).

To give what I am about to tell you some credit, tonight's is a must-win game for the Yankees, and even more so for their manager, Joe Torre - if they lose, their season is over, and Torre's probably a goner. (and as of now, Wang - pronounced "Wong" - has been pulled. pity).

Anyway, I'm going to lose some legitimacy here, but I couldn't help but notice the ESPN.com headline:

Torre confident in Wang.

Just giggle, dammit.

Storytime

Once, there was a little frog, sitting by the river. A scorpion comes along, and asks the frog for some help.

"What do you want me to do," asked the frog.

The scorpion asked the frog to carry him across the river.

"But you are a scorpion, and you sting things by your nature."

"Well, I cannot deny that," admitted the scorpion.

"Still, I propose a deal," said the frog. "I'll carry you across the river and you must promise not to sting me."

"It is a deal."

The scorpion climbed onto the frog's back, and they set out across the river. They made it about halfway when the scorpion suddenly stung the frog.

"Why would you do something so foolish?" asked the frog. "Now we shall both die."

The moral: Scorpions are jerks.

Radiohead to Record execs:

YOU ARE ALL FUCKED.

Have a nice day.

A Ray Lockman original drawring