whatever you do, don't request 'patches' by dickie lee... you'll die laughing.
07.04.02 @ 12:06 a.m.
Oh. My. God. I am so pissed at Netscape right now. I had this MASSIVE entry written, and now I have to try to remember what I wrote.
I wussed out on the bellydancing class I was going to start taking tonight. If I end up getting a job, I won't be able to continue taking the class in all likelyhood. So instead, Mom dragged me to Target to drop off my application, where I had to stand around and wait to have a preinterview and watch all the customer service people look like gorillas who'd just been handed a copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare. They were all "Where'd you get this? I've never seen one of these, have you?" Jesus, they're computer application system goes down for one day and everyone is thrown into a total spin. *sigh* So that... pretty much went nowhere because I don't have retail experience. Bugger. Then I had to go to Hollywood video. I did the whole computer application thing, and then the checkout lady was a total bitch to me. "Who said you could fill out an application? We aren't hiring right now." Ex-CUSE *me*, lady, that's not what it says over there on the sign. I didn't know I had to get YOUR permission to waste my evening answering multiple choice questions in full view of every customer renting a movie. In the end, I did rent something, though I didn't expect to. I rented the DVD of Daydream Believers: The Monkees Story, which premiered on VH1 a couple of summers ago... something like that. Yeah, had to be. People were bitching about it around the time I joined SYMK, and I've been there quite some time.
Anyway, I've seen the movie multiple times, since I have a copy taped off VH1. I watched tonight with Micky's audio commentary turned on and laughed my ass off. Mick is pretty funny, and the whole thing has thrown me into a vaguely fanfictiony mood. (I even joined the fanfiction diaryring tonight.) The odd thing was that the cut I saw was not the same as the one I saw on VH1 in the sweltering heat of my neighbor's empty house that summer. I happened to be housesitting, which was extremely lucky for me, because they have cable... and I do not. Except at school. God, do I miss the Daily Show. There was this extension of one of the concert scenes where Fake Micky plays air guitar at Fake Mike's feet. By the way, Fake Mike is mega hot. Check him out at www.jeffgeddis.com. I mean it, he's GORGEOUS. Not as gorgeous as second season and late first season REAL Mike, but pretty damn hot in and of himself. The commentary was funny, but in some places Micky's memory doesn't even scan with recognized Monkee history. But hey, he's gettin' older, he did an awful lot of drugs back in the day, and we can all forgive him because he really was very fucking funny. Soon I will watch with Davy's and Peter's commentaries on, but I don't expect them to talk though the whole damn movie except in a couple of very emotionally strong places, where I suspect Micky didn't speak because he was actually watching the movie. And there are a few places where I guess he just didn't have much to say.
I also heard something (not on DDB, somewhere else) that suggests that Mike Nesmith shares an interest with me... Dogs. I heard that maybe Mike's dogs are Champions or at least participate in AKC shows. Sweet sassy molassy, that's the family business! *sigh* Maybe Mike will pay an outrageous amount of money for a Bungee-Ibanez pup, eh? Maybe Uncle Don will sell him Quinn. I like Sally too much to sell. And, well, I'd be a bit embarassed to let him know about the Monkee-themed litter. Oh, here I drift off into my own imagination. Mike probably isn't involved, and if he is, odds are high that his breed isn't German Shepherds, though in the '60 he had a couple. On DDB's Commentary, Mick said Mike's Fraak was a "German attack dog" and I've read in Total Control that he had another one that scared the crap out of Cher when Phyllis had... eh, Jonathan, I think. Geesh, how loserly am I? I know all my favorite musican's children. I make far too many cracks about Nurit, mother of Jason Nesmith. Not like, mean, but I bring her up... when I'm talking to myself, because NO ONE WILL FUCKING WATCH THE MONKEES WITH ME, except Belle. No one gets the jokes, either, or my mother tells me to stop telling her the same thing over and over. Sorry, Mom, you're the only one who knows the slightest bit about the Monkees that I have daily contact with. And even then, most of the jokes I make make no sense to anyone in my household. So I talk to myself. A lot. Poor poor pitiful me. I hope that someday I'll find a Monkees friend at U of O. I should contact my Comp. Lit teacher next term, she's a fan. She even asked me about DDB. Cool dat. I have to say 'Cool dat' because I'm wearing a preppy khaki baseball cap, but I'm wearing it backwards. Yo. If I wear it sideways, I have to talk like my Gansta Philosphy paper. Dawg.
I am so pathetic. Really, I am. I mean it. Are you doubting me, punk? Don't you think I can rate myself on the pathetic scale? HUH? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE SAYING? This is my defense mechanism, maybe. Pretending to get all mad. I do it too often. Mostly to my mom and my dog, doin' all this 'You wanna piece? Huh?' LOSER! Okay, it's time I go to bed... not necessarily to sleep. Maybe to write some fic 'cause I'm still in a fic-y mood, maybe to read, maybe I'll just lie there and stare at the ceiling. And you can't do anything about it, neener neener neener.
(Oh, PS, that reminds me of Dave Barry. I finally saw my mom reading at least the first half of Dave's Bad Song Book. It's fantastic, go read it. It was so odd... I don't think I've ever seen my mom laugh that hard. I read over her shoulder, even though I've read the book before, and managed to laugh at the EXACT SAME TIME as she did, though I didn't plan it that way. Mom told me she was surprised I wasn't embarassed to read that book on the bus. Which is where I did read most of it for the first time, on the LTD bus from Gateway Mall. People probably did look at me while I was snickering through the whole ride back to University Station. That was before I figured out the good bus route.)
Now I'm really going. I swear. This is just like when I'm on the phone. I don't talk on the phone much, but when I do, I say a half a dozen goodbyes because the convo just restarts itself everytime I try to let someone go. Must be my innate charm, right?
Why are you laughing?
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
