Thugs, Crooks, Football Players


I love the Ravens--or as some would say, the Raiders of the east. Hey, at least they keep things interesting. Latest wrongdoing here.

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Still no computer, but that story made me want to write something. Since there are a couple other things I've stumbled on in recent days, thought I'd share a bit more...

The Nimrods: a school that's inexplicably too cool

A job title that's definitely not cool...and sounds barely legit, if you ask me.

Maintaining self-control...so easy in some areas of life, completely impossible in others. Maybe that's the problem.

I think I'm going to offer a link to this website on the righthand side, eventually...but wanted to call attention to the DC-version of Gawker. The stuff on Powell and Pottery barn...very Washingtonian. I love that a State Dept. spokesperson had to spend time defusing this mini-scandal...just think, that could be me one day.

No time to update the music links these days...but if you're looking for something to listen to, really recommend Snow Patrol's Final Straw and Jupiter Sunrise's Under a Killer Blue Sky. Dilated Peoples' new stuff is good too. And Reed Arvin is an entertaining, John Grisham-esque writer for a weekend read...all can be found on Amazon.

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Some of you may have already seen this...as I sent it to the guy friends whose e-mail addresses I could remember/had on-hand...judging from the response, a thought-provoking article...thought I'd share it more broadly.

Courtesy of the Washington Post:

Boy Friend
Between Those Two Words, a Guy Can Get Crushed

By Libby Copeland
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, April 19, 2004; Page C01


The worst kind of temptation, as Tantalus found out, is the sort that's closest, the fruit that's barely out of reach. This holds true for infatuation, which is why the cruelest crush is one between friends.

We call this the friend-crush, and it happens when one member of a platonic relationship secretly harbors a desire for something more. The friend-crush survives through crying jags and significant others and drunken walks home. And when it ends, it often goes out with a humiliating fizzle, accompanied by something like, "I can't date you, Jason/Bobby/Steven/Mike. I value our friendship too much."

Apparently, no one talks about the friend-crush, about the fact that it's quite common, that it usually seems to be the guy doing the crushing, and that it is endemic to high schools and college campuses. Last autumn a college kid named Matt Brochu wrote about it in his school newspaper, and it was as if he'd just translated the Rosetta Stone of adolescent longing.

When Brochu's column ran in the University of Massachusetts paper in November, a cry of recognition arose from the young people of this nation. At last, someone had given voice to their silent suffering. Through instant messaging, the column spread from Amherst, Mass., to Boston to Austin to Muncie to Berkeley. It spread to England and Belgium and to a Navy enlistee in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and to a woman in eastern Canada who "almost cried" when she read it...

The rest of the Post article.

Brochu's tear-inspring column.
- posted by DD @ 6:06 PM

 
It's been a while.
To the handful of you who have written, inquired, or casually referenced in conversation that I haven't updated my blog in a while--though it obviously wasn't too big a problem, as no one posted a comment here--I broke my laptop one February morning stepping out of bed and onto the computer, which--if you've ever wondered how a laptop sounds when you step on it--went "crunch."

This isn't my laptop, but it might as well be.


So until I get a new computer, this blog will remain in a psuedo-frozen state of suspension, like General Zod in Superman II. While I have many poorly constructed thoughts on events, both pedantic and global, of the past month-plus, as well as numerous weblinks that I've stumbled across, there's only so much time you can sit at your desk pounding on the keyboard...and I think the ten hours per day or so is about it for now. So hope this holds you until...whenever.

Matt "Loco" Simon is a pong god.

Calvin "Hotlanta" Oung's newest addiction.


Get in line, Conan.

They may be pieces of junk, but I still want an iPod mini.

I once read a fiction book about a marketing expert who traveled the world, identifying trends before they became fads (in an interesting twist, though, she was allergic to brand logos. Most nausea-inducing was the image of the Michelin Man.) This guy sounds sort of like the real deal--without the allergies, that is.
- posted by DD @ 10:30 PM