My Vegas travelogue ends at our flight out there. I planned on paragraph after paragraph of patented Powell pratfalling, but Vegas took it to me so quickly, I soon realized that my goal for the trip should be survival, not capturing the essence of the moment for my ones of readers. This idea was reinforced soon after landing, when I saw a puppy sitting outside of the airport. I tried to pet him and he bit my hand off, as he turned out to be no puppy at all, but Cerberus. The trip was fun, yes, but the type of fun that, if I had to relive it, I'd need some rubber pants and a local anesthetic.
When I first moved to Austin, I wasn't living the sweet life that I currently enjoy. In an unfamiliar city with only a couple of friends, I spent far too much time in front of the TV. I realized I had a problem immediately after I mailed a Christmas card to Paulie Walnuts from the Sopranos. Anyway, one of the shows that I really got into was Carnivale on HBO. It's sort of an apocalyptic, David Lynch meets Flannery O'Connor thing. Being a weirdo who cabbages onto such things, I dug it while it was on, then life continued. When I saw the second season was starting up in January, I had a rush of nostalgia and vowed by Odin's raven to become a fanatic again. Well, I've watched the first episode of the new season and I now have conclusive proof that I'm getting dumber, because I have absolutely no idea what's going on. I spent the entire season premiere whispering to my cat, "Who's that guy again? Do you think he's bad? Is that a cursed banjo that he's holding?" Either this show needs to come with flowcharts, or I need a tv show tutor. Luckily, until I master the story, there's a bearded lady on the show for me to giggle at.
This week, I got my first little taste of what the Spring of Doom will feel like, as I try to balance work, school, and the responsibilities that come with a new set of walkie talkies. Let me say this now: it's a good thing I've set the standards for myself astoundingly low. Me wearing pants + falling asleep in class + getting locked in the bathroom at work = a winner of a day. Don't expect a whole heck of a lot from the 'lash until I get this schedule tamed. Oh who am I kidding, continue to expect everything from the 'lash. You get nothing but the best 15 minutes a day I can muster.
Posted by Cody at January 17, 2005 7:02 PMwhere you going to school? what for? i thought college gradates were supposed to sit around smoking cigars all day
Posted by: xyz at January 17, 2005 7:26 PMI'll be at UT, doing God knows what. And it's not just cigar smoking priviledges; college graduates actually get entire wardrobes made of tobacco leaves.
Posted by: Cody at January 17, 2005 9:01 PMOh don't be bashful Cody. Bitch is taking Topography. He sits around with all the geography grad students and makes elevation maps while thinking to himself, "Is it puff, puff, give or give, give, puff?"
Posted by: Danza at January 17, 2005 9:19 PMIt pains me to ruin such a delightful scenario, but I'm actually taking topography. Even so, I really want to go to class tomorrow dressed as a mountaineer.
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