Free at last, free at last, thank Lordy, free at last

Me'sa write papers allll day long. Day's never finished, Masa got me workin', Masa got me workin' so haaaard. Ok, enough slave talk. But I was singing slave working songs over the past week as I work on the freak'n pantload of papers my professors were kind enough to crap all over me. But today, I finished the last of them. Halleuja! I feel like celebrating like a slave that made it to the north. Thank YOU Drinkin' Gord. You really can follow it, who knew?

But other than working on papers (and showing masa's wife why she can't go back) I've been having shenanigans, or misadventury if you will. I have had this 10 page paper for my government class that I've been neglecting for the past...10 weeks. Just not a lot of drive to do it, combined with not having a topic. I eventually stole one from a hot girl I know and went to work on it. My subject: The History of Jersey County. How fun. Turns out the only place you can research the history of Jersey County is IN Jersey County. Which gave me an interesting opportunity. Nobody can check my facts on this one, at least no one from my school. So, at various points in my paper random bits of history are inserted. For instance, did you know that the mayor asked the police department to shoot the birds off the statue on top of the courthouse, not realizing that it was hollow and would become infested with bees? Oops. Not quite how it happened, but it adds some zip to it.

So for the weekend at least I was back in town, Friday night I went and saw the variety show. Wow. I can't believe how much better we were. For starters, you could tell that everything the Emcee's (I love when terms that are actually abbreviations get to become legitimized words by adding vowels i.e. emcee, deejay, etc. It's the American Dream in word form) were totally going from pre-approved scripts. COME ON, where is the potential to get into serious trouble. Where is the lacking, clearly stretching for time dialogue? Not here that's where, not.

Then they ripped off my and Paul's Twelve Days of Christmas bit. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I ripped it off too. But I ripped it off from someone that did it six years before me. That's how you do it, that's how you steal. You steal something obscure enough that you can pass it off as your own. What are these kids learning in school? The only thing what they did could have been was an hommage to myself. In which case, they could have done a better job.

Moving right along, the next day Steve, Nathan, Myself, and Jacob went and saw National Treasure. It was like Indiana Jones but what's that thing it lacked, Oh yeah a decent plot, convincing actors, blood, any sort of interest, and credibility. Other than that, just like Indiana Jones. The gist of the movie was that Nicolas Cage was finding clues left behind by the signers of the declaration of independance, to some gi-normous treasure. The first (of many) problem(s) I have with this movie is that apparently the two things our founding fathers did with this treasure is: 1.) Hide it. and 2.) Leave clues EVERYWHERE about where they hid it. I'm surprised we weren't invaded by Canada.

Sunday consisted of me being too cynical in church and watching TV. Eventually I decided that I needed to head back to Springfield. The drive up was pretty uneventful other than almost getting pulled over by the fuzz for driving like I'm playing GTA. That game is bad on so many levels it's subliminal. Then I finally got home. To my crib, my pad, my home away from home. To an awful smell, one I think must have been hiding behind my El Rancharito bench. Because I walked in and was fine for about .25 seconds, then this sneaky bastard jumped out and socked me in the face. The nose specifically. My first thought was "it's either bad meat or good cheese." Turned out, bad meat. I had a flashback, I kid you not with overexposed borders framing the shot, of me throwing away some skanky ground chuck on Thursday. Good Lord, I thought it was skanky then... If I go another hundred years and don't smell anything like that again I'll have lived a happy life. If a fart farted, that's what I'd imagine it would smell like. And luckily I had enough fans and windows to air my place out, not like it was in the 30's last night. And that cold air moves so much, really helps disperse the smell... I went through a whole can of Oust, and half a can of Febreeze air spray before the place was liveable again.

Frankly, I reccomend against rotting meat as potpouri. Well, that's what's been up with me lately. In Rob French fashion I'll try to post again tomorrow now that I'm no longer in Alabama. - Scott