With Spring semester finished, I’m finding myself with an incredible amount of free time. There is only so much time I can devote to sitting in cafes writing, so I often end up laying in bed, watching a movie on my laptop.

All of my friends and co-workers know my love for terrible movies. I’m talking straight up horrible, critically panned films. They make me laugh and feel better about myself… but afterwards, I usually realize I’ve wasted two hours of my life that I could have used to read, write some more, or play with my chinchilla.

As a result, I’ve given myself a new personal rule. Every time I watch a terrible movie on purpose I’ll have to purchase a new classical book that I haven’t read, or haven’t read since I was in high school. This rule doesn’t count if I thought the movie was going to be good, and it turned out being awful, such as The Golden Compass.

I only started doing this to myself two weeks ago, and here’s the movie watched / book purchased list so far.

Skinwalkers / The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde
Timeline / The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
PS I Love You / Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
Doomsday / The Wasteland & Other Writings by T.S Eliot
10,000 BC / The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper

I’m hooked on picking up Borders’ editions of classic books, especially because they look so nice sitting on the bookshelf.

Heather’s birthday party is coming up. Heather and I will be watching Diary of the Dead and Zombie Strippers during the course of the weekend to celebrate, since she’s seen almost every single zombie movie… except these two recent ones.

I wonder, what two books will I buy after that.

So I’ve been working on my book for two years now. It’s done, but right now I’m editing it, adding pieces here and there, really trying to flesh out some of the more shallow points in the story. I’m also working on creating a better ending. I recently caved and let a few friends (thanks Glen & Helen!) read it, and I’ve been getting some positive feedback.

However, I just caught this.

Here’s the scene towards the end of the book. One of the main characters, the love interest, Hannah, is leaving to go back home to her beloved state. The lead character chases after her bus, yelling for her not to leave in a super cute and highly (but purposely) cliche moment. He screams.

“Don’t go back to Montana, Hannah!”

… FUCK!

Seriously, did I really go two years working on this story, and not realize this?

Alexis: “find–>replace“

You sure said it Lexie.

Late last night, while in the midst of studying for finals and playing Grand Theft Auto IV, Mittens was whining in his cage with his little belly pressed against the bars. This means only one thing. “Let me out!”

So, after a while, I caved, and opened up his cage, giving him free reign of my bedroom. He ran around, jumping on my desk, scampering across my bed, hiding under my couch… his usual, adorable deal. I kept working on my final papers, until I heard furious, frantic squeaking coming from my bathroom.

I bolted over to my bathroom, only to spot Mittens in the toilet, sitting in the cold water, attempting in vain to climb out. I’d have been squeaking a lot too, if I had fallen inside of a giant toilet. Poor guy. I scooped him right up and called up my vet, who told me I’d have to blow dry him til he was completely dry. The problem with chinchillas, is that they can’t get wet. Not because they are gremlins or anything, but because of their super sensitive skin.

So Mittens was treated like quite the diva for the next hour or so, bundled in a towel, having his fur blow dried. No, the blow drier wasn’t actually that close to him while turned on (see picture above). That was just for the picture. I had to keep it several feet away from him.

Lesson learned, keep the bathroom door closed.

So my pals Standard of Living were in town this past week, on tour with Maverick Records artist Ben Jelen, who you might remember from his hit single in 2005, Come On. With the water coming out of the piano. Good song, weird video.

We hung out a lot in the backroom of the World Cafe Live, playing cards, and watching the guys hit on the various waitresses working at the club. It was great seeing old friends, who I hadn’t seen for the greater part of a year, which is about how long it’s been since I’ve last been in Buffalo, NY.

They played a fantastic live set. The acoustic at the World Cafe Live are really great. I took a handful of photos, but spend most of the time shooting some video on my camcorder. Thought it would be fun to put together a nice acoustic video for the guys. I’ll be working on that over the next week or so, since I really need something relaxing to do in the midst of finals and work. Seriously, I have way too much going on right now, and nothing relaxes me more than sweet piano rock.

Mittens was loved by everyone who stayed at the house, both fans of the band who came to party, and the rockstars themselves. He just loves attention and a good snuggling.

Give Standard of Living a listen on their Myspace. I’ll be heading up to Buffalo, NY for their album release show in June, no doubt about that one.

Standard of Living
www.myspace.com/standardofliving

Today I bought some Rogaine and it wasn’t my intention
To lose my hair at 25 and hate my own reflection.

It was once long and wild, stylish, yet messy
In the vein of John Stamos, who once played Uncle Jesse.

But now it’s fading fast, and I don’t know what to do
Soon I’ll look like Bruce Willis, while filming Die Hard 2.

I can’t pull off that bald look, and Heather, it’d be really mean,
If you decided to leave me, for resembling Mr. Clean.

And it it doesn’t work, I hope you’ll still give me a kiss.
When I’m bald and posing for pictures…

… looking just like this.

When the movie Good Luck Chuck came out, and consequently swept the Oscars with multiple wins, I heard about it from various friends across the country. Everyone, after seeing this piece of cinematic garbage, couldn’t resist the urge to call me and give me the great news. That a movie, practically based on my life, had been released.

The movie tells a story of Chuck, who, after women sleep with him, they find their one true love. Thanks everyone, for helping me making this connection to my real life, since every single one of my ex-girlfriends, even ones I didn’t sleep with, are now either engaged or married… to the guy they immediately dated after me.

Hard to believe? Check this fact out. (#1) When I was 15, after we broke up, my very first girlfriend met her life partner. You heard me. She’s a lesbian. I guess I was a bad kisser? Hahah… LOL… hee-hee… *sobs hysterically into hands*

I couldn’t help but think about this today, as I uploaded this new photo gallery onto Flickr. (#2) It’s of Steph, one of my ex-girlfriend’s from my days at Ramapo, and her wedding to one of my best friends, Glen. I know that sounds weird, but there’s a complicated back-story to the whole thing. I didn’t know Glen until he and Steph got back together when we had broken up, and once he transfered to my college, we became inseparable. I was a groomsman at the wedding.

I got Steph a sword for her wedding present. Glen and I told her to try it on. It was awesome.

They’re both visiting me here in Philly this weekend. And no Glen, you can’t have sex on my couch. Stop saying that you’re going to do that.

I’m heading to (#3) Christina’s wedding in June, a girl who I dated for quite a while at Ramapo, where I will undoubtably take photos that are better than the hired wedding photographer’s. Despite a break-up and an attempt at friendship full of turmoil and fights, we became friends again, and chit-chat on AIM regularlly. And I’m happy about that.

However, it’s important to note that this little curse isn’t limited strictly to Ramapo. (#4) The psycho girl who I dated at Kean, who everyone hated and made fun of, who thought Linkin Park counted as punk rock (shut up Tim), is getting married to the guy she started dating immediately after I broke up with her in a memorable and devastating way. What can I say, I’m old fashioned.

This of course, brings us to now. Heather and I are together, insanely happy, and I love her something terrible. Heather, you’re not allowed to break-up with me. My heart couldn’t handle seeing you with anyone else. Not even Brian.

Seriously, why is my life a movie?

With the semester winding down and some new projects in the works, I find myself sitting down at my laptop in my room, far busier than I’ve been since January. This of course, infuriates Mittens, who is in dire need of attention when I come home from work and/or school. He’ll put his little paws up and grab the cage, whining until I take him out. He sounds strangely like a puppy when he does that.

Lately, his new favorite habit is running up onto my desk while I’m working, leaping onto the monitor, and sitting there, sometimes for almost an hour, watching me type, work on photos, or edit video. It’s adorable as hell, but also extremely hard to photograph, what with the monitor and all.

And yes Sara, those are some of your Etsy stickers next to my laptop.

He’s always so curious. Whenever I let him out, regardless of the amount of open space he has to run around, he loves hopping up next to me. I could be playing Halo, reading in bed, or working on my laptop. Just sort of amazes me, seeing this kind of bond form with a little critter like a chinchilla. Maybe it’s because I got him when he was so little. Still, pretty crazy. Who knew!

This weekend, I stopped by a passport business in Old City, Philadelphia, where I got myself fingerprinted for a Peace Corps application. I’ve never had to be fingerprinted for anything before, so this was definitely something new… and expensive. Seriously, $55? Come on. There was no work involved in fingerprinting me. Most of the labor was done by me. I even had to wash my own hands. I was not impressed.

Then, all at once, it hit me. My God, there were so many opportunities out there that I could have taken advantage of, that I will never be able to do, now that I’ve been fingerprinted. My dreams were immediately shattered, as I counted the jobs I’d no longer be able to have, with my identity and fingerprints forever captured on a governmental sheet of paper.

Jewel & Art Thief: Every time I watch some sort of thriller that involves a high profile jewel or art heist, I can’t help but yearn for that sort of life. Planning elaborate robberies involving futuristic electronics, cameras, and laptops. Developing a getaway plan using disguised vehicles or a speed boat. There’d even be some sort of sneaky plot involving the authorities, where I’d pretend I was there friend or something. You know, like Pierce Brosnan in After The Sunset or The Thomas Crown Affair (above).

International Super Spy: Who doesn’t dream of being just like Daniel Craig in the James Bond franchise? The answer… Communists. Seriously, I always felt the slight pang of envy watching any of the 007 movies. The fast cars, the awesome inventions and gadgets (supplied by John friggin Cleese!), and the high tech weapons… awesome.

And yes, the image of an awesome international agent applies only to Daniel Craig’s 007. He kicked ass, the others just talked way too much or didn’t do enough. I’m looking at you, George Lazenby.

Assassin: Now, I’m sure you can be fingerprinted and still be an assassin, there’s no doubt in my mind. You just have to be a GOOD assassin. That is exactly what I wouldn’t be. My former roommates had to deal with me playing Assassin’s Creed until the wee hours of the morning on a semi-daily basis when the game came out, and I spent most of my time assassinating innocent people and guards, running away, and getting myself killed.

So yes, number three on my list… crappy assassin.

Professional Gangster / Mobster: As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster… well, not really, but when you watch a lot of Martin Scorsese movies, you kind of want to be one for about two hours or so. Then they get shot, stabbed, or arrested for various drugs, and you immediately change your mind.

Plus, who wants to end up like Ray Liotta? I’m not talking about his character in the movie, I’m talking about him in general. Did you see In The Name of The King or Smokin’ Aces? I did, and those are four hours of my life I’ll never get back again. So this one makes number four.

Men In Black Agent: I know, you put your fingertips on that giant orb and it burns away your fingerprints. I know. I’m just too big a pansy to do that. That looks like it hurts!

That’s it!

Graduate school is almost over, applications are out for PhD programs and the Peace Corp. Wish me luck! Besides, I’d rather be more like Indiana Jones than James Bond any day.

So recently, I went up to visit Heather, and we spent some time volunteering at the Ronald McDonald house in the suburban area of Albany, NY. Heather and her fraternity made some food for the local hospital, whipping up some tacos and Mexican dishes.

I spent a lot of time walking around the house and taking photos of the old mansion. It was a pretty shocking experience, seeing this beautiful place. I mean, McDonalds is a pretty terrible company, right? They’re responsible for a wealth of economic problems, the fattening of America, they are THE example of globalization, and a list of other things that I’m probably not educated enough to comment on. Afterall, I’m an English major.

But after seeing this, maybe they aren’t so bad.

Or perhaps that’s what they want me to think.

*shrug*

My neighbor in Queen Village has quite the setup in front of his house. Daffodils (above), little bushes in pots, even a tree poking out from the sidewalk. Me? There’s a discarded pair of underwear near my steps that have been there for about a month, and some dead leaves. I decided it was time… time for a change.

I was pretty psyched about my recent purchase at Ikea. Two enormous Terra cotta pots, in which I could plant a number of things. Two small trees, maybe some assorted flowers, perhaps a shrubbery and… another shrubbery! Unfortunately, in my quest to purchase plants, the conversation was always the same.

Ikea Employee: Nope, no dirt here.
Me: But you sell plants… and the pots… and there’s trees over…
Ikea Employee: I said no dirt! Besides, it’s like, out of season.

Target Employee: Nope, dirt is out of season.
Me: Out… out of season?
Target Employee: Yup, you can’t get dirt nowheres these days.

Hipster Looking Whole Foods Employee: Can I help you?
Me: Yeah, don’t you guys carry topsoil for the plants you sell outside?
Hipster Looking Whole Foods Employee: Sure do, but it’s out of season.

Out of season? What the hell! If you hear about a guy getting arrested in Fairmount Park, digging up some topsoil… blame Ikea, Target, and Whole Foods.