Saju's Last Night Out: Part II

So as Donovan just posted, it was a helluva night in the Junk. The Jager and the hugs were free flowing. I guess I have all of this to look forward to as the new nightlife reporter. You know, as trashy as you think JC is, we'll show ya a good time. I promise. Some of the sweetest partying moments I've had were in the confines of Geary County.

A few additions to Donovan's account:

There was dancing at Coyote's. I danced with Saju. I danced with Pam. I danced with Lauren.

Donovan explained 'Do It For Donovan' to Dustin (Who I lovingly refer to as Douche Bag. He is my JC version of Bill.) and a friend, who had a goatee, of his from out of town he brought in to set up with Lauren. The two nodded and smiled and then Douche Bag accused bisexual people of being selfish and leaving fewer women for him.

Most TMI moment of the night could have been when I declared to our group just what would have happened had my boyfriend been able to come to town like he was supposed to. Sorry about that one ...

Donovan and I believe the Lauren/Goatee to be unsuccessful and Donovan witnessed an intimate and extremely awkward hug as Lauren left the house.

After everyone left Kevin and Douche Bag's house, I busted into Kevin's room as he tried to sleep and pelted him with bottle caps and marshmallows. At some point, someone spit a marshmallow down my shirt.

Douche Bag and his other friend from out of town (Who looked like a bit like Bob!) microwaved hot dogs and we had a big debate on why you should or shouldn't "poke the wieners" before nuking them. Douche Bag laid a bead of super hot hot sauce on Bob's wiener (that's what she said) and the guy unknowingly ate the entire thing before freaking out. He stood in the kitchen chugging milk for a while.

When I woke up the next morning, I was confused as to where I was. That hasn't happened since my first Barn Party.

Oh yeah, crazy production girl's mom looks JUST like Leah! Freaky.

Oh, and the guy who ran karaoke at the Country Corral had a rat tail and wore a T-shirt that read "Free Sex." No thank you.

May the Jager continue to flow like water — AKS

BYE SAJU! WE'LL MISS YOU!

Saju's Last Night Out

So Friday was Saju's last night out in Junction City. We ended in high style. Well, okay, maybe not. But it was fun.

We started at the Tyme Out Lounge in Grandview Plaza, a small town outside of JC that barely qualifies for being called a town despite the plethora of billboards on its stretch of highway. The Tyme Out is pretty good, it's like Johnny's Tavern but with better food and good service. I had a burger under the advice of Pam, the 47 year-old secretary who went out every night for the Week of Saju. It was quite delicious. Sajy showed up about an hour late for his own event.

After that, we went across the bridge to the Country Corral for kareoke night. Country kareoke night. AKS showed up about 30 minutes after we did and nearly wet herself after seeing every country song she holds near and dear in the song selection notebook. A few Daily Union people sang and the crazy production girl came with her boyfriend and her parents. That's right, her parents. And she grinded all over her boyfriend while they watched and clapped. Only in JC. And the weirdest thing was that her mom looked like Leah Shaffer, former Kansan managing editor.

We had about four pitchers of Bud Light at the Corral, me having about six glasses. Funny story, Kevin (one of the DU reporters) asked the bartender for two pitchers of their finest beer. She just looked at him as if he were insane and asked for a glass of milk. So then Kevin asked for Bud Light. The guy at the bar who got the joke told the bartender that instead of their finest Kevin would be having Bud Light. The bartender still looked at us as if we were crazy.

After the staff of the DU sang "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" to Saju, we headed into JC to go to Coyote's, the strangest country bar ever. It is very much a country bar in the decor and the clientle, yet they play the occaisional hip hop song and there are black lights everywhere. We got pretty wasted there, as pam kept ordering pitchers even though Kevin wanted to go back to his house and drink the stockpile of beer he had from earlier in the week. And we had Jager bombs.

Eventually, we did end up back at Kevin's, where we all just got drunker. AKS isn't sure how she got there because she was really wasted. And no, I did not throw up on anyone's couch.

Bill, don't hate me

Driving to work today, I get stuck behind this car that is trying to turn left at a large downtown intersection from the center lane, even though there are TWO left-hand turning lanes next to us. I look up, and on his back window: BUCKNELL. And then I rear-ended him.

Not really, but I wanted to.

-NJS

Prank phone call? yea, I wish.

Hyland, bow down to my "best of" reporting phone calls. Yes, this conversation is true. I know, it's sad.

Me: Hi, is this Mr. Smith?
John Smith: Yes it is.
Me: This is Nate Karlin with the Mirror. In case you didn't remember, I'm writing a profile story about you.
JS: No, I actually didn't know that.
Me: (awkward laugh)
Me: moment of silence
Me: Well I was wondering if I could set up another interview with you on Monday or Tuesday to go over some facts and get a little more information.
JS: Well, I am available both days.
Me: When's a good time?
As he answers, I realize he doesn't have the thick Texas drawl that my John Smith has.
Me: Well actually I think I have the wrong John Smith.
JS: I think you do, too.

This happens to the best of us, right? :-/

I like the nightlife, I like to boogie ...

Beats were reassigned today at The Daily Union. Saju is leaving JC to run a newspaper on his home island of St. Kitts. Saju's beats were city, business, weekend/nightlife and cops/courts. Our hospital, education, agribusiness reporter (Kevin) got business. Andy, who covers the small towns in the region, got cops/courts. "I like both kinds of music: country and western" Stairrett got city and WEEKEND/NIGHTLIFE. Good lord. While this means a big reduction in page layout (hooray!), it means I must now venture out into the Junk's seedy nightlife underbelly.

Remember, this is the beat that produced stories like the one I posted on here May 27. You remember — the one with this little gem:

Thomas Kidd of Fort Riley said he would rather go to the Rodehouse than to a strip bar. "If Richard opens this place up it will blow up," Kidd said. "Tired of spending all of my money at the strip joints."

A little side note to that article: Saju said Kidd continued on about having to go home along and please himself, but the editor decided to cut it.

So just imagine it now, me covering the military, the Junk and nightlife in the Junk. Andy will surely be writing about me on his new beat. Now if I didn't already have a man, surely one of my beats would scare one up ... please pray for my innocent country soul.

Yeaaaaaaaaaahhhh! Okaaaaaaaaaaaaayyy! — AKS

Actual conversation from today.

Me: The Mirror, this is Nate.

Guy on phone: Oh, I'm sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number there, Shawn.

Not as good as Hyland's from way back, but I found it amusing.

-Nate

How hot/humid is it?

...so hot/humid that:

-My glasses fog up when I leave an air-conditioned building.
-I have to drive w/ my windshield wipers on at night, even though it's not raining.
-I'm electing to sleep in the DORMS b/c my apartment is so miserable.
-If I'm not already sweating profusely when I leave my apartment, I am by the time I manage to get my warped door open and my key out of the deadbolt that I've all but stripped b/c it simply won't come out.
-I don't have to iron my clothes; they're automatically steamed if I just hang them up in my apartment.
-I picked up a few tips from Maggie Gyllenhaal's recent appearance on Letterman. She used to live w/o air-conditioning, so before she went out, she would mist her sheets w/ water and stick them in the freezer. When she came home, she'd have like 20 min. of coolness. I decided not to do sheets, b/c by the time you got them back on the bed, that would be a workout in itself, but the pillowcase is worth it.
-I went to heated yoga and the yoga studio was the same temperature as my place.

And gas cost $2.43 a gallon. In some places, as much as $2.59. For regular. Unrelated to the heat, except that it's all ridiculous.

Sorry about the temporarily anonymous post. Bill, on the blog beat, got me straightened out.
-Neeley

Greetings from Yuma

Howdy, this is Neil checking in from the Wild, Wild West. Yee-haw!

I am now a copy editor/page designer for The Yuma Sun here in Yuma, Ariz. I can confirm for you that it's hot. No one has died in Yuma from the heat. In fact, I would rather feel 110 degrees than 90 degrees in Kansas

However, Yumans like to shoot each other. There is an unsolved six-person murder in the 'burbs, an unresolved double-homicide by the Colorado River, a missing homeless man called the Navigator and yesterday there was a carjacking that started a high-speed chase on Interstate 8 that ended with the Arizona Department of Public Safety shooting the guy in the leg. About a month before I moved a Marine jet crashed in a neighborhood here carrying four bombs which, somehow, didn't explode.

The great thing about Yuma is there's a burrito king on every corner, pigeons live in the palm trees and a minor league baseball team. Sportos take note: Rickey Henderson plays minor league baseball for the San Diego Surf Dawgs. He has a horrible batting average, leads the Golden Baseball League in walks and looks like he's been on a five-day coke binge.

Yuma is a weird place — PBR can only be found in two liquor stores, pigeons nest in palm trees and Mary (my girlfriend) calls "Los Angelas, Jr" because you have to drive to get anywhere. Half the population is Hispanic and in the winter time about 80,000 "I'm rich, bitch" Canadians move here.

The Sun is a decent place to work. I show about 1ish and work until the baby is put to bed four days a week. Two nights I copy edit, everything from 1A local copy to obits and on two nights I design. There's copy kids, an AM designer and a PM designer and a sports guy every night on the "desk."

Fellow design ninjas take warning: Beware the program PageSpeed. It's the bastard child of Quark and Dreamweaver — but with all of the reatarded elements of both. It has no stylesheets and in order to create a design element, say, a screened box, you have to type in a code like in Dreamweaver. Needless to day, we're making a slow migration to InDesign ... but not soon enough. Smaller papers tend to use it and the entire Cox chain uses it.

That's all folks ... for now ... Here's a snippit from a Sun obit. I wish I met this guy.

Elmer ‘Duke’ ‘Dukieburger’ R. Juul

Elmer "Duke" "Dukieburger" R. Juul, 77, of Yuma, died July 18, 2005, at Yuma Regional Medical Center.
He was born July 29, 1927, in Astoria, Ore., and was a retired international labor representative.
Memorial services will be held at 2 p.m. Friday at the Elks Lodge No. 476.
Kammann Mortuary is handling arrangements and a private cremation.

TOODLES AND POODLES SWIMMING IN RAMEN NOODLES,
Neil Mulka

What Would Lloyd Do?

In case you haven't noticed, our happy little blog is being stalked by LloydChristmas69. Instead of ignoring an ignoramus, it is time to have a little fun at his expense. Bill and I are sponsoring a "What Would Lloyd Do" contest. Bill says the prize is a lap dance from either of us, your choice, and/or a XL 2003 blood drive T-shirt. My contribution is a Jayplay Live T-shirt and almost new yoga DVD. If you want to donate a prize, let me know.

Do a little research on Lloyd by heading on over to his blog. Please enjoy observances such as "nursing a major case of brown ass pee" (and no, Lloyd isn't Bill) and "Are you asses jealous? ... Up next? Shopping for a new pair of chinos at Sears. Hells yeah!"

Because we are journalists and we love to speculate, there have been some rumors about who Lloyd is. I have heard that Lloyd is Bill (which he denies), Jesse Truesdale, Durb and "Someone who nobody knows. Just stumbled across this blog in some manner."

The contest is to answer the Inside the Actor's Studio questions as Lloyd would. Post your answers as comments after this post. Here are the questions:

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
4. What turns you off?
5. What is your favorite curse word?
6. What sound or noise do you love?
7. What sound or noise do you hate?
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Also, please answer these:

11. How old is Lloyd?
12. Where does Lloyd live?
13. What does Lloyd do?
14. WHO IS LLOYD?

Take care my friends,
AKS

How to not get a job in journalism

So, to what I’m sure is no one’s great surprise, I didn’t wind up pursuing a career in journalism. Still, I’ve been enjoying everyone else’s posts, so in case you were interested I figured I should introduce you all to the glamorous world of contract archaeology.

For anyone who has no clue what contract archaeology is – I didn’t until last year – it’s the kind of archaeological field work that the government hires people (through consulting firms) to do when they need to do construction in an area and don’t want to rip through a piece of history. It involves a lot of survey and shovel testing, but not a lot of excavation. Also, it involves being hired for one job at a time, and constantly searching for work. This is my second contract job for the summer, and at the moment I’m staying in Branson, Mo., while my eight-person crew surveys a portion of Mark Twain National Forest.

Every day I go out into the forest with three liters of water on my back and walk roughly 18 miles looking and shovel testing for potential archaeological sites. I cover myself in sunscreen and 100-percent Deet, and when I get home I shower with Tecnu and drink beer with the rest of the crew. There are probably enough toxins in my system right now to qualify me for rehab somewhere. On a good day, it’s getting paid to hike around with your friends and look for history eroding out of a hillside. On a bad day, it’s a sucktabulous death march in 106 degree heat through a poison ivy-, tick-, spider- and bramble-choked hellhole with no breeze.

Right now I’m staying in a haunted Super 8. According to the desk ladies, some ghost with heavy footfalls is inhabiting either my room or the one next to it… never can be sure. Not that it matters – I don’t think I could even find a ghost under the massive piles of crap that migrate from my car to the motel room each session. My laundry sits on the floor in assorted boxes: a Ravenwood Wine box for the clothes fresh from the laundromat, a Sam Adams 12-pack case for the grimy clothes fresh from the field. Contract archaeology is somewhat of a homeless, haphazard lifestyle. This haunted Super 8 is my fourth hotel for the summer. There’ve also been floors, couches, my tent and so on. The thought of traveling all the time sounded romantic at first, but trust me: there’s nothing romantic about not getting to see your girlfriend more than a handful of times in three months. That part of the job sucks hard.

We get $31 a day in addition to our pay and motel room, and you can tell how long someone’s been in the business by how the spend it. The older members of the team buy high-quality food and beer, using their portable grillers, rice cookers, steamers and toaster ovens to prepare gourmet field cuisine. The other 22-year-old and I pocket our cash and live on canned soup, peanut butter and PBR. The other guy blew his saved per diem on a girl who came to visit him last weekend ($1,000 in two days… and on a married woman who broke up with him, no less). I save mine for my time back in Kansas, to cover any future Paige Worthy-related expenses that should arise.

The best part of working in the field is the freedom. Well, that and being surrounded by people who are interested in – and often more knowledgeable about – the same things I’m interested in. My days of wearing suits and ties and being polite at work and sitting behind a desk all day are done for the foreseeable future. If I ever actually “make it” in archaeology and get that PhD and teach classes, then I probably won’t get to spend as much time in my dusty bluejeans and safari hat. But for now I’m in the clear on that front.

Anyways, I spose this has gone on for long enough. There are about a million things I haven’t mentioned, but I have my doubts that I’ve retained any readership this far and my mind is wandering. I hope everyone’s doing great – it sounds like everyone is – and I hope that my frivolous use of m-dashes has pissed at least one copy editor off. Later.

-Bob

Check out who got 21st place in this 8k in D.C.

That name should be recognizable to everyone. What a genius that guy is

http://www.mcrrc.org/racing/race05/05twi-res.htm

Life is like a hurricane
Here in Duck - burg
Race cars, lasers, aeroplanes
It's a duck - blur!
Might solve a mystery,
Or rewrite history!

Ducktales! (a - whooh ooh)
Every day they're out there making
Ducktales! (a - whooh ooh)
Tales of daring do bad and good
Ducktales!

D - D - D - Danger!
(Watch behind you)
There's a stranger,
(out to find you!)
What to do?
Just grab on to some...

Ducktales! (a - whooh ooh)
Every day they're out there making
Ducktales! (a - whooh ooh)
Tales of daring do bad and good
Ducktales!

Not pony tails or cotton tales, no
Ducktales!
(a - whooh ooh)

Forgot to post a title

Bill is probably cursing my name (and yours, too) as we speak/write, yearning for the post I promised to do from work this afternoon. Oddly, I've been busy since I got here. Definitely unusual for me. Earlier this week, we were overstaffed and I did two stories plus obits, for a total of one hour of work. I spent the other part of the evening reading Harry Potter at my desk. I have no shame. (unlike the people in Jersey. but that's another story.)

As Steve has dubbed me a "concert junkie," I started thinking about how I've been to a live show four out of the last seven nights. So yeah, I guess I am. But most of it is just small, local stuff. And here's my little PR bit: Spinto Band, out of Wilmington, Del., is a great show. It's seven guys, none of whom are older than 23 or so. I only plug this b/c they're going to be at the Jackpot Saloon on Aug. 6, and I want people to go out and see them (I would go, since I'll be done here, but I've got a date with Springsteen in St. Louis that night). Also check out Walker Lundee. They only play around here, but you can hear them online. If you don't like upbeat, poppy music, disregard my suggestions.

On Wednesday I went to see Elvis Costello and the Imposters featuring Emmylou Harris. This was fuck-I'm-dead amazing. He played for three hours straight. My best friend even flew out from KC for the show. He played his classics. He played the classics. Johnny Cash. Merle Haggard. Nazareth. OK, so Nazareth isn't "the" classics. I didn't know what to do afterwards accept smoke cigarettes on my stoop.

This is totally self-indulgent. I'm sorry. This is why I can't have a blog.

In the professional world... ah, screw it, I don't care. I want to quit copy editing and become a rock star.

Neeley

Juvenille humor never gets old

I was talking with someone the other night and we started playfully dissing eachother. I know there are some among you who will appreciate this exerpt of the conversation:

Me: *Makes some comment about her weight*
Her: Your mom!
Me: ... Your Grand-mom!!!
*joint laughter*
Me: I wonder if 'your mom' is getting too old to keep using. I think I'll start using 'that's what she said.'
Her: I don't know. I always thought 'your mom' was good.
Me: That's what she said!

Jon

Kitten cannon

So I just walked in on my brother playing a rather disturning game — Kitten Cannon. Shoot kittens out of a cannon, make them bounce and bleed, then find out how each one dies. Some go through spikes while others get eaten by plants.

Have fun killing kittens kids.
http://www.addictinggames.com/kittencannon.html

Ashley Doyle

Best week EVER (without beer, women or a playstation)

So Quetico Provincial Park was awesome. Great weather, amazingly vivid night sky, water that was clear enough to see through for 20 feet and still enough to reflect the trees. It was basically the most pristine nature you could ever hope to see. And I pooped on it. Eight times.

Sorry. But not really sorry, or I would have deleted it before posting.

ANYWAY, as for the questions that needed to be answered on this trip:

1) Yes, I made it the whole way, despite the second day, which included five portages. The first three were cake, but the fourth was uber-steep and the fifth, which was longer than a mile, was mostly mud up to my knees. No fun with a canoe on your shoulders and 70 pounds of crap on your back. The trail was pretty easy from there, though.

2) The insects sucked (no pun intended), but the mosquitoes weren't abnormally large. They were very abnormal in number, especially on the mud portage, but we learned to co-exist. The horseflies, however, bit much harder and thus are still on my bad list.

3 & 4) No huge insects, as noted above.

5 & 6) Inexplicably, nothing was attracted to my loins for the whole nine days, not even bears.

7) No, I cannot live on fish and noodles for a week. Which is why we had lots of oatmeal and dried peppers to liven things up. Still, the philly cheesesteak I had after we got off the trail was a nice treat.

8) I did not consume human flesh.

The drive to Ontario sucked, even after we reached the north woods. Spruce trees are only exciting for so long. Once, I thought I saw an Aspen tree and got really excited, but as we got closer it turned out to be another Spruce tree. Major foliage blueball.

There were a lot of highlights of the trip, which I'm going to write about in a more serious manner for my troop's Web site. I won't bore you with them here. Instead, I'll conclude with some O'Toolian jokes that came up on the trail.

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID
Don't put used (fire)wood in the bush.
I wouldn't eat (the berries) on that bush.
Dude, you need to work on your J-Stroke.
Extend your pole, damn it.
Watch it! You almost hit me in the chin with your (hook and) rod!
Let me see your rod.

Ahhhh it's good to be home.
-BC

Things that make you go... Behh

So, should we make fun of this story because it happened in the not-so-great state of Missouri.... or because it's Kealing's hometown? Hmmm...
-Nate

ST. LOUIS — A man is being sued by Missouri Attorney General Jay Nixon for allegedly sending garbage and even feces to eBay customers who thought they were bidding for new or slightly used clothing.

Nixon filed the fraud suit against Michael D. Pickens of Bethany. His wife, Tamera Pickens, told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch he is disabled with a rare blood disease, is unemployed and has never sold anything over the Internet.

The suit claims Internet ads promised top-quality clothes, including ads from Victoria Secret, Banana Republic and other well-known brands. When customers placed their orders through the online auction site eBay, the suit says, Pickens arranged for the shipment to come from companies that sell industrial rags, unwanted clothing or household items meant for poor countries. In one case, a customer received feces.

Nixon said Pickens either ignored or refused requests for refunds.

The lawsuit, filed in Harrison County Circuit Court, seeks a permanent injunction and fines of $1,000 per violation.

This one's just for you, Amanda

I wrote about this story in my online journal last week, and it just keeps getting better. A police dog was shot and killed while pursuing a suspect and the Indy Star played it up more than the suspect being shot and killed by police.

A local scrap metal business is donating money to
replace Arco, the police dog killed in the line of duty
last week, as well as $2,000 for bulletproof vests for
canines.
General manager Matt McKinney of Capitol City
Metal will present a check today during a ceremony
at his business at 331 S. Shelby St. Arco and his han-
dler, Cpl. Mark Archer of the Marion County Sheriff’s
Department, were helping chase a suspect when Arco
was shot and killed. Officers fatally shot the suspect,
Jerry L. “Big” Stephens, 29, of Indianapolis, moments
later.
Capitol City Metal will give $2,000 to the Sheriff’s
Department to find a successor to Arco and to buy
protective vests, and $1,000 to the Indianapolis Police
Department canine unit, also for vests.
Keith Manring

Still no word if there's going to be a department funeral with a 21-gun salute for poor Arco. In other furry-creatures-meeting-untimely-deaths news, a pack of wild dogs got into the Indy Zoo and ran amuck in the Australian section, killing 8 birds, inculding 2 emus. Of course it was made into an overly dramatic A1 story, with subheads such as "Aftermath Uncertain." They do love their doggie news here.

I just got back from a trip much like Neeley's recent dabblings in Atlantic City. I went up to Chicago for the weekend to play poker at one of Trump's casinos, won $40, went out and about in Downtown Chi-Town, got drunk and fell asleep on the floor of a hotel room with six other interns. Hooray for benders!

Fall Kansan gets under way in less than a month. Hmmm...

Jon

It is with sheepishness that I make my post here. I confess that in the bustle of moving into my apartment late and getting situated at my internship in Paola, web activities kinda fell to the wayside. Except for Livejournal. We're "involved."

Despite my ever pessimistic nature, the Miami County Republican is TEH ROXOR. I have awesome editors, cool fellow reporters, and a two hour commute. Okay, so that last one isn't really that cool, but I'm willing to overlook it for the two months I'm there. Things are going well enough that they want me to stay as long as possible, which is cool and all that jazz.

While I do mostly reporting, I also write heds and copyedit, which has led to my share of embarassing moments (nothing like leaving your name off your own news column). And since we don't have an actual photographer, I take most of my own pictures for my stories. And I like it. Keep an eye on your job next semester, Rylan.

So far, I've talked to cancer survivors, a 100-year old lady who's first car was a model-T, and a guy who collects B-westerns. AKS, you might be interested to know that I interviewed a guy riding across the country on horseback and looks remarkably like a real cowboy. If you want his number, let me know. Oh, and I also did a story on how Kansas has more "lakes" than Minnesota. Eat it, Twin Cities.

I've read some other people's work as well. Vockrodt, liked your historical site story. Rachel, saw your pics in the Herald. Miranda, saw something from you, too.

So yeah, this has degraded into a lot of pointless rambling, much like how I talk in real life. I have better writing over at my LJ. Go read it. There are also pictures. http://www.livejournal.com/user/tequilaprophet

I hope everyone is having fun, whether they have finally entered the real world or are just sampling it for a few months. I look forward to hearing from and seeing any of you.

With that, I say "Here I am, rock me like a hurricane."

-Ty

You know you're a hick when...

you give your DOG two names. The Journal-World had a story in today's paper about pets left in hot cars. They focused on this 5-month-old Beagle named Sally Anne. It was a good story -- stupid owners -- but good lord, just call the dog Sally... or Anne.

"You go outsod, Sally Anne! Don't make me git the hose!"

-Nate

p.s. the owners live in a trailer park.

http://www2.ljworld.com/news/2005/jul/15/number_pets_left_hot_cars_increase/?city_local

Apparently affairs are OK

So I always knew there were greeting cards for basically everything and everyone. There are cards for grandparents, god parents, mother-in-laws, cousins, teachers, blah blah blah. Well there's a new card out — for people who are having affairs. Example: The Christmas card, thanking of you while we are both with our families. Honestly now, what the fuck?

Ashley Doyle

Gems of the day

I've been a little gone here, and I attribute that to an extended weekend that can only be described as a bender, which included two trip to Atlantic City (one for beaches/drinking, one for gambling, naturally). My coworkers with whom I went think it's a miracle that I'm even alive (that has more to do with the 2 am ocean dive than the drinking). I maintain that I didn't have more than 4 Manhattans (before the lager) on Saturday night, a fellow intern contests it had to be 6 to 8 ... Keeping the spirit of journalism alive, people!

And now for the gems...

"The 24-hour extended-release medication was approved by the FDA in September for people in chronic pain who were already using morphine-based painkillers.

The agency said the withdrawal was triggered by a company study that showed potentially serious or even fatal consequences if a person abusing the drug also drank alcohol."

They're using pain medication, on top of morphine painkillers, and drinking alcohol ... FDA, I'm going to go and say they already want to die.

As seen in the earliest edition of the Inquirer, an R. Kelly review:

On his new album, TP.3 Reloaded (***), released Tuesday, the perennially priapic love man is offering his services. He'll be happy to go "In the Kitchen" and get you "on your tippy toes" over "by the buttered rolls." Then he plans to "toss your salad" and "Hit It Til the Mornin'."

A meek intern tried to warn them about the tossing of the salad, but the three old white dudes just thought it was part of the extended metaphor. After a 25-year-old associate editor saw it on the proof, she had to explain, in depth, to David Sullivan exactly what it meant to "toss your salad."

Then, in an email sent out by the same associate editor, in charge of finding pictures for A1's rail, she sent this to all her superiors, for a story about wildlife in the city:

"I need a beaver shot for A1."

Old white dudes were rolling over that one...

And in conclusion, in the words of a Brit: "Terrorists. What a bunch of cunts."

An Actual Conversation From Today

Andy: "Hi, I'm Andy, I'm with the Daily Union. Do you mind if I ask you a few quick questions about the city's budget?"
Other Guy: "What?"
Andy: [repeats]
Other Guy: "What's a Daily Union?"
Andy: "Why, it's a newspaper! In Junction City!"
Other Guy: "Never heard of it."
Andy: [thinking of best response]
Other Guy: "I have no time for this. Goodbye." [click]

You can't make this stuff up.

~AH

What the fuck?

So I bought the drinking game What the Fuck awhile ago, but I was looking through it and there are some interesting questions. You know, questions you should know the answers to.


1. If you were flexible enough, would you perform oral sex on yourself?
a - yes
b - no

2. What would you rather assume the starring role in?
a - a drag show
b - a tampon commercial

3. Would you stick a tiny cactus up your butt for a new convertible?
a - yes
b - no

4. Would you snort a line of flour if doing so gave you the same high as cocaine, without posing a health risk?
a - yes
b - no

5. What magazine would you rather be on the cover of?
a - National Geographic
b - Playboy (or girl)

6. Who would you rather see naked?
a - Cross
b - Kealing
(sorry guys, I had to make you players one and two)

7. Who would you rather be handcuffed to?
a - Cross
b - Kealing

8. Who are you more likely to have sexual fantasies about?
a - members of the same sex
b - relatives

9. Who would you rather receive a phone call from?
a - the mayor of your city
b - satan

10. If you were a cannibal, who would you eat first?
a - Cross
b - Kealing


-Ashley Doyle
PS - Cross and Kealing - I love you.

Some gems from the style guide

BAD-HAIR DAY

BANNED WORDS: fabulous; gushes/gushing "unless we are attempting to discredit or undermine the speaker. It implies fatuous enthusiasm ... save it for those moments when that's what we mean"; rocked and rock on; gal pal; 'just want to have fun' in heds, deks and pull quotes; ho and ho tops.

BLOWOUT: The process of blowdrying hair straight.

CALF HAIR (n.); CALF-HAIR (adj.): Don't use pony unless we can prove it is.

CHAT UP: Use this phrase only in the flirtatious sense; use chatted with otherwise.

HOT: Limit to one occurence per page.

SEAN COMBS: Preferred. Use Puffy or P. Diddy only when we're being breezy.

FACELIFT: One word

SIZE: For clothing sizes use numerals, e.g., She is a bite-size 2.

VA-VA-VA VOOM: Use only once per issue.

VOGUEING

Do you really think I could make this up?
—Bechard

Noooooo! Don't spray my pants: Why D Money, AKS, booze and JC don't mix well.

What's up dirrrty dogs?

Friday was an interesting night here in the Junk. I decided to throw a little shindig at my house. I made invitations with an image I found after Googling "Jagermeister" and passed them around the office. An interesting mix of people came: all but one reporter (who was on vacation), Annette the circulation manager, Jeff the press foreman, Jordan the kid who answers phone calls from irate customers who didn't get their newspapers, Pam a receptionist/ad rep who is reminiscent of a certain female journalism professor and a few others. Annette asked Donovan if he and I were married. We are not.

We had tiki torches going by my new patio set. It was a sweet, laid back time. Jager was present. I also drank too much Malibu/pineapple juice and was intoxicated by the time my boyfriend called after midnight. I talked to him inappropriately for a little bit and then did some inappropriate IMing about how I was talking inappropriate to him (sorry, Kealing). The party started to wind down, and I was having trouble standing up. I stumbled into the house to talk to my boyfriend yet again (yes, I was that girl). Donovan asked if he could stay a little bit to sober up. I know, I know, but he didn't want to stay the night ...

So I'm laying in bed in my pajamas, yip-yapping to my boyfriend. I hear quite a bit of activity going on in my house. I stay put, thinking, "sweet, Donovan's cleaning my house!" Oh no, Donovan was not cleaning my house. After hanging up the phone, I step outside my bedroom door and look to the right. Donovan is slumped, shirtless, at my computer in the spare bedroom.

"Amanda, I threw up all over your new slipcover," he whined.

The activity I heard was Donovan peeling my new red slipcover off of my couch (which I made him put on before the party started) and throwing it in my washing machine, along with his puke-soaked shirt. I stepped into the living room and the pungent odor of puke bitch slapped my sensitive olfactory glands.

"I'm soooooo sorry," he said.

"That's OK," I said. "I'm gonna blog about it though."

Turns out Donovan had laid down to rest and left remnants of White Russians, Jager, beer, chocolate cheesecake, salsa and lil' smokies on my slipcover, rug and couch cushions.

"I'm soooooo sorry," he said again.

I was still drunk at this point and was giggling like a stoner. I asked him to hang my area rug on the clothesline and I took the cushions out on the front porch. Now here comes the white trash, JC moment: I stood drunkenly on my front lawn in a nightgown and bathrobe next to a drunken, shirtless Donovan as I hosed off my couch cushions. It was 3 in the morning. Donovan complained that he got puke on his pants too. I graciously offered to hose him off.

"Nooooo! Don't spray my pants," he O'Tooled.

We trashed it up even more and sat out on the front porch, laughing. Actually I was the only one laughing, Donovan nearly threw up again. We hung out for an hour or so, waiting for the slipcover and his shirt to dry.

"I'm soooooo sorry," he repeated yet again.

Finally the shirt was dry and we both sobered up. Donovan left to go back to Abilene and I went to bed. In the morning I got up and immediately went outside to see the aftermath of my attempts to clean up while drunk. It looked like a tornado hit. Empty Miller Light cans were strewn about, plates, glasses, chairs turned on their side, my earring laying in the driveway, bottle of Jager on the table ... you get the picture. It still looks like that.

Defeated, I walked into my once-neat bathroom. Apparently Donovan didn't just throw up on my couch, he also threw up in my sink. A thick, puke residue lined the bowl of my sink. It was red. The doorknob was crusted with throw up and there was a swipe of it on the wall next to the sink. My sink is clogged.

But it is OK because Donovan and I are married. And really, what is a friendship without ridiculous, surreal moments on front lawns at 3 a.m.? And blogging. Sweet, sweet blogging.

Y'all come back now, y'hear?

AKS

STUPID ADDIES

The softball game and my BBQ are cancelled. The addies only have 3 players and don't want to play. I guess that means they forfeit. We'll try to reschedule something soon. Even if we don't I might try to setup a fun game of kickball, drinking and BBQ.

Andrew

Laura Bush Waves and Perfect Pearls

I promised Azita I would post something today so she could read it when she got off work but haven't been able to think of anything nearly as clever as the other posts. I mean, seriously, how can I compete with a Martha Stewart song?

Anyway, life in sororityland is as exciting as you can imagine...Personally, I'm picturing a theme park decked out in pink and rhinestones with lots of swoopy fonts, exclamation points and, of course, millions of Laura Bush waves and pearl necklaces. Unfortunately -- or fortunately -- that's not quite how it really is.

And for those of you who had the pleasure of being in my 415 class, our favorite TV boy, Kevin MacDonald, is making nightly appearances on the channel 13 news in Topeka. Oh, the memories of that class and Kevin's famous voice-overs...

Jon, I apologize soooo very much for not getting to see you when I was in Indy in June. I'm coming back up on July 17 and will be there for three weeks, so I'll give you a call.

Well, I should get back to maintaining my fantastic Shawnee County social calendar...the demand for my time is almost overwhelming.

Adios--Anna

Yes, I believe I show a flare for the lyric.

So Amanda always tells everyone about the kind of stuff she has to deal with at The Daily Union. Well, here's a sample of what I have to deal with every Thursday. One of our "columnists" always writes these really random columns that never have anything real to say, although they are usually entertaining because they are so out there. However, this week she wrote about how she recently read that some guy was writing an unauthorized musical about Martha Stewart. I know, but it gets better. Because of this, she was motivated to write her own lyrics for a Martha Stewart musical, using much more famous songs for the music. Unfortunately, when AKS tried to sing one of them aloud it didn't work. Partly because of AKS' singing voice, but mostly because of the columnist's choice to use too many syllables when replacing words. Here is a small sample of her writing:

MARTHA’S FAVORITE THINGS
(To the tune of “My Favorite Things”)
Martha-brand roses,
Perfect little kittens,
Bright copper kettles,
Hand-loomed woolen mittens,
Taupe linen packages,
Perfectly tied up with strings,
These are a few of my favorite things . . .

Growing my own fruit,
For crisp apple strudels,
Ringing Wall Street’s bells,
And beating assistants with noodles,
Wild geese that provide the down from their wings,
These are a few of my favorite things . . .

Sewing white dresses,
With blue satin sashes,
K-Mart shoppers that give me their cash-es,
Silver white sheet sets,
That cover the bed springs,
These are a few of my favorite things . . .

When the cops bite,
When the feds sting,
When I'm getting mad,
I simply remember I own all these things,
And then I don't feel so bad . . .

As you can see, Oscar Hammerstein she is not.

The best part is the end of her column: "Yes, I believe I show a flare for the lyric. While others might be doing the unauthorized musical, I’m sure that I will capture the imagination of the Great One. Please don’t call me for a week or two; I want to keep the phone lines open for Martha’s call."

— Donovan

another one

Daily Unionclassified ad update:

MIXED breed puppies free to god home, 785-539-7986

AKS

I now have a price

So I was just offered $2,000 to spend the night with some guy. I still haven't quite decided if I'm flattered or deeply insulted by his asking price. Believe it or not, I've never thought about how much I should charge for sex, so this kind of caught me off guard and I don't know how much is standard pay. This was definitely a topic I don't remember learning about in Malcolm's class, which I originally thought taught me everything I ever needed to know. Although James (the wannabe sugar daddy) didn't call it payment for sex, he referred to it as my monthly allowance. While $24,000 a year for someone I'd only see once a month, I guess is a generous offer, I had to turn it down. Though if any one else is interested, I'm sure he'd be thrilled.

Just trying not to be a play thing,
Ashley Doyle

Whoooo waaants more buffalo penis?

Looking back to May, it all makes sense why AKS replaced (stole) my shinier buffalo nickel with her rusted, hard-to-see nickel.

This is kind of old news, but I came across it again as I was cleaning out my email.

http://www.snopes.com/business/money/buffalo.asp

-Nate

boundary waters preview

On Friday, I will leave for a nine-day hiking adventure on the boundary waters in Canada and northern Minnesota. I will be sure to post as soon as I return, and here is some of what you have to look forward to.

EIGHT QUESTIONS TO BE RESOLVED IN QUETICO:

1) Do I, Bill goddamn Cross, have the STRENGTH and COURAGE to go the 50 miles?
2) Do I have the STRENGTH and COURAGE to fight off insects the size of Neeley's head?
3) Do mosquitoes the size of Neeley's head actually exist?
4) Do mosquitoes the size of AKS' much larger head actually exist?
5) Does gold bond powder really attract bears to your loins?
6) What does it feel like to have a bear bite your crotch?
7) Can I live on a diet of fish and noodles for a week?
8) Failing that, can I live on a diet of fish, noodles and human flesh for a week?

I hope you guys are as excited to read the post-trip post as I am to write it. Bye all. Or as they say in Canada, "bye all, eh?"
-Bill "bear fellatio" Cross

Breaking News:

Eudora DOES have a downtown. It's really shitty. It looks like it hasn't been fixed up since the days of High Noon and gunslingers. The street wasn't paved and there wasn't a yellow line down the middle. Luckily it took me only five seconds to get through.
-Nate

Midway is the devil

So I got to go home this weekend, but on the way back, Raymond, my "I love a great deal" dad, decided to trade my first-class, fresh-baked cookies on every flight Midwest ticket for a Southwest one. "Come on, Ashley, how bad can a one-hour layover be?" he said. Ha. The one-hour layover at Chicago's glorious, home of everything unsanitary Midway airport. Needless to say, we are not friends right now. So when I got home I realized a couple of things. First, I really liked being back. Not so much that I want to make it permanent, but it was definitely fun. Secondly, all of the people on Mass. Street during the evening of the 4th couldn't hold a candle to being stuck in Central Park during the annual Puerto Rico Day Parade two weeks ago. You've never truly seen spandex until you have seen the white lycra on these girls. "Everyone Loves a Latino girl" is a phrase that will live on, in all its bedazzled glory, in my memory for quite some time.

Because Paige can shamelessly self-promote her magazine, I will too. I did a little bit of writing. (It's nothing major, don't get excited) Nonetheless, I will have a byline in the September issue. For all those who refuse to spend money on a fashion magazine, I'll try to send a couple to the newsroom. Speaking of September, I'll be coming back at some point during that month and will make it a point to stop by the newsroom. Who knows, I might even bring treats ...

Life at the convent is improving, I managed to finangle an air conditioning unit and a television that gets three, yes three, broadcast channels. These channels usually carry the news, which I should really stop watching. The number of rapists in surrounding neighborhoods is getting to be more than I can count on one hand. Awesome. The fact that my work environment is drastically different that everyone else's has never been so clear: Our printers are named Gucci and Versace, you have better odds of finding an earring under the lid of the copy machine than an actual article and the people I work with look incredibly hungry. (Give Lindsay Lohan ten years and a five carat ring and you imagine what I'm dealing with here...) Oh, and our "required" reading every day? Page Six. I kid you not, after years of Western Civ and Samuel Colridge, I need to know if Demi's pregnant (looking probable) and who spent the holiday weekend in Vegas. (Quentin Tarantino and Shar Jackson) One last thing — AKS, you should make it happen. I will drive from Manhattan to see it. Think of what you could tell all of the old women... "No, I'm not married, I'm a stripper."
—Bechard

Here come the horny lads ........

Ad in today's Daily Union:

MUSTANG GENTLEMEN CLUB
SOLDIERS ARE RETURNING
Needs More Girls!!
Topless Only
Great Money!!
No. Exp. Necessary
Apply in person, after 8PM
1330 Grant Ave., Junction City, KS
So if you don't think that journalism is the way to go, have a go at this. Bill? You have luscious breasts!

Too old for toys, too young for boys — AKS

Author's note: Mr. Andy David Hyland, region beat reporter for The Daily Union wrote the spectacular headline.

Softball game SATURDAY — Please join us

Ok, so as usual, I included some incorrect information in my last post, but it was the addies fault anyway. Now that we have a date and time for the softball game I'll make this correction/announcement.

The softball game, or possibly kickball game depending on the number of participants on the advertising and news side, will be on SATURDAY, JULY 9 at 5:30 p.m. The game will be held on a grass field at Deerfield Elementary school, 101 Lawrence Ave. Some directions: Drive on Sixth street until you reach Lawrence Avenue, then turn north and continue until you reach a T-intersection, which according to Adam Land, is where the school is. (Don't blame me, the addies are the ones who caused us to have to play on a grass field so late in the day.)

According to Kansas law, alcohol is not allowed on public school premises, so we will not be providing a keg. I would encourage you to bring your own concealed beverage. I'll be bringing some rum and coke.

I have decided to hold a BBQ on my porch and front lawn directly behind South Park. (200 W. 12th St. -- corner or 12th and Vermont) I'll start grilling burgers and providing food right after I drive home from the game. (This will likely be around 7 p.m.) I won't be providing a keg, but I do encourage you to bring your own drinks.

If you think you'd be interested in playing, please e-mail me so I know we'll have at least ten players. If you're interested in watching and/or enjoying the BBQ, e-mail me as well so I can get an approximate headcount.

P.S. Let's see comments about playing or watching sotball, rather than my horrible grammar and word usage.

News from Windows 95-land

Hello, friends. I'm joining you from Kansas City Homes & Gardens magazine to let you know two things.
First, the new issue of the magazine is on newsstands now. You can read scintillating material from me about what's new in the industry and why you should hire an interior designer. Marvel at the magazine's flawed design and laugh at all the pictures of rich people. Go ahead.
Second, I got a job. A real job. Not an internship. A job. At the Dispatch Tribune, Kansan East, with the Vock & Co. Steve, if you read this today before we go out to dinner, please forgive me in advance if I'm going completely apeshit. I'm a little excited.
Ahhhhhhh! OK bye. It's lunchtime, I say.
Love, PP

Jesus Christ, Motor Bike

So AKS and I went to Wichita on Sunday to help the economy by buying loads of stuff we didn't need (Ibought comic books, she bought earrings). On the approximately two hour drive from Abilene to Wichita, Amanda and I shot the shit and called some of you to leave annoying messages. At some point, I said something in the Mr. Slave voice from South Park and Amanda mearly died laughing because she had never heard it, not having had cable for a year and all. Then she tried to get me to read billboards in what she now calls "my voice." So we did that for a while. Then this motor bike zipped around my car really fast and, in the voice, I said "Jesus Christ, Motor Bike." Amanda almost fell out of my car she was laughing so hard.

-- Donovan

Y'all miss me?

Just nod your head up and down if you don't mean it :)

Y'all probably wouldn't recognize me under my TAN skin... actually it's still bright red from the burn. But in a few days y'all won't recognize me under my TAN skin.

I just got back from Houston where I was a guest (that's right, y'all, I was PERSONALLY invited by erin's aunt and uncle... even though they wrote Nathan Karlin on the card) at Erin's cousin's wedding. I haven't been to many weddings, but I don't think I'm going to another one that will top the size of this one. 250 people, 11 groomsmen and 12 bridesmaids. Everyone was barely able to fit on the bima (Hebrew for stage). It looked like a small army.

Every newsie would've been at home at this wedding cause the bride and groom and their friends went EXXXTREME drinking every night! the bride was carried out of the bar the night before the wedding. They're nuts. They're also a bunch of hippies to went to U of Texas. Sorry if I offended anyone from the Lone Star State.

On the way down to Houston (which I must say is the humidity capitol of the world. It's also turning into little Mexico City, but without the street-roaming dogs, yet), I rode this piece of shit Continental plane. There was one row, then the aisle then another row of two seats. Before we took off, I was reading a Star feature about how to protect your home against chipmunks and fleas. After about 10 mintues of looking at the pictures, this Lawrence-trash-looking guy in the row across the aisle from me leans over and and said "you ever seen any chipmunks around here?" I said no and that I haven't seen many around Lawrence either. And that was the end of our ice breaker. I wish I got his number so we catch up over a beer or something.

I'll leave y'all with my internship update to end my short novel, which I will publish one day. Yes I just called dibs on the copyright to this post. (I'm not drunk in case that ever crossed y'alls mind). I have been at Eudora News last week and the rest of this week. The editor was in the hospital and now he's on vacation so I've just been helping out with reporting. Eudora's boring. I haven't found a downtown yet. Adam Land said there isn't one, but there is one bar in town that serves 3.2 beer. Next week I'll be back in Tongie where the "hospitality is legendary." Marissa and Bechard will tell ya otherwise, haha :)

I hope everyone is having a great summer and had a spectacular July 4th! I saw fireworks at Corporate Woods in OP. They kicked soo much ass! You impressed me, Overland Park. Now just fix your damn roads. You're worse than Lawrence.
Y'all be good!
-Nate

Update on Andy

Well, here it is, the post you've all been waiting for. I, Andy Marso, am now cleared to put weight on both feet. A small victory, you say? Perhaps, but one big step (horrible pun) on the way to finally ditching my wheelchair. Now all I need to work on is balance. And strength. And endurance. Okay, so I'm still quite a ways from being a functional walker, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Remember that, cause some famous guy said it. Confucius, maybe?

Anyway, in other news, I attended a Twins/Royals game in Minneapolis last Wednesday with Louise Stauffer. In the interest of being a good host for Louise, I even arranged it so the Royals could win. Believe me, it wasn't easy.

Louise seems to be doing well, all things considered. She gets around with a cane and only hears out of one ear, but she didn't let that stop her from going places and talking to people. She is still as quick and as funny as ever, very cool to hang out with. I can tell she is a little bit down, though, so those of you who know her well might want to drop her a line just to let her know you're thinking about her. That always helped me.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the day when Louise and I can both complete our recoveries and head back to the KC area.

--Andy

happy 4th everyone

So after much prompting from AKS, I am finally posting. It's really only fair considering all of the free entertainment the blog has been supplying me with for the past few months. It probably goes without saying, what with everyone on here being journalists and all, but you guys are great writers, even when you’re just slinging insults at each other.

So today I have the day off, which is something of a small miracle, considering I work all weekend, every weekend at The Star. But because Mondays and Tuesdays are my regular days off (woohoo), I’ll actually get to see some fireworks tonight. But overall, the job is going well, and I like the people I work with. But with only two weeks down and eight left to go, I’m really not looking forward to the hell that will be August, when I’ll still be commuting there, the Kansan will be back in full force, and there will also be that tiny little bother known as class.

We got off to such a late start because the training in San Jose didn’t start until June 5. We were there for two full weeks, and it was pretty fun considering I was there for “copy editing bootcamp.” Honestly, it was much more laid back than all of the horror stories I've heard, but I think that the San Jose must be the exception to the rule. The professors were odd and maybe a little on the ancient side, but the other interns turned out to be cool. We even found time to go into San Francisco on our day off, and it was nice to be there again. There’s another intern who was there and is now at The Star as well, and we get along really well. Maybe she goes to MU . . . glad that’s out in the open now.

OK, I promise I’ll wrap it up here. Just a few side notes:

Neeley: I’m with you on the being “boated out” thing. Really not possible. And while I’m sure Live 8 was a major pain in the ass for the locals, it was fun to watch on T.V.

Courtney: DEAR GOD. Are you okay? The bites, the reaction, whatever, sound miserable.

Bill: So that math comment may have been supremely nerdy, but it’s really not fair that you get to be good at both words and numbers.

Ashley: Your job sounds amazing. If I didn’t like you so much, I might have to hate you for it.

All right, I’m out. Let’s all try to keep our fingers today, OK? And by all, I am referring to you, Kealing.

Azita

We Are The World

After a week without Internet in my apartment, my wireless signal has mysteriously returned. But let me just remind you that a week without Internet in apartment already without air conditioning, a microwave, and all TV save PBS and NBC, is a life mildly worth living. Oh, and never, ever rely on Starbucks for wifi. They barely do coffee right (sorry, Jon), so I shouldn't have expected their Internet service to be painless. Or free. Because that would be, oh, I don't know, what even every coffee shop in Lawrence-frickin-Kansas does.

Luckily I was able to leave for the weekend. This was important because Philly hosted a little something called Live 8 this weekend, and, along with such rockin' celebrities as Josh Groban, Sarah McLachlan, Jars of Clay, Rob Thomas, and Maroon 5, up to a million people were expected. Bleh. Fortunately I had plans to go to Baltimore, where one of my friends from Lawrence parents now live. With a boat. On Saturday, we sat on the boat all day. And I mean 12 hours all day. We fished the Chesapeake, we swam the Chesapeake (this is a questionable decision, but they guaranteed me it was OK), we caught a delicious bass, we drank, we ate crabs (Shut it, Jousers). We didn't catch the delicious bass, but it sounds better that way. Everyone else was boated out after Saturday, so we spent yesterday in Annapolis. I was so inspired, I joined the Navy. That sailor's hat will look good with every outfit. And I figure this will give me something to do when I finish here. Again, better story were it true.

The thing I didn't really understand was being "boated out." Are you kidding me??? Being out on the Bay all day Saturday has finally given me a purpose for marriage. All I need is someone with a boat and a dog. We don't even need a house, we'll just live at sea.

But I left Baltimore at 4:30 a.m. and am back in Philly, the city that just keeps on giving. Because Live 8 was not enough, today we're hosting "Welcome America!" This has been planned longer than Live 8, so I'm more forgiving of it. And since Philly is somewhat into that history-founding-of-America thing, I can go with it for that reason, too. What I can't go for is this title. "Welcome America!", banners everywhere proclaim. Are these directed at the citizens of the city, commanding them to welcome the outsiders they actually loathe, reminding them to be nice and abuse that 70% tourist mark-up with a smile? Or are they addressed at the outside world, but in the months of preparation they put into this, could not afford a copy editor, or even a single sixth grader with a B average in English, to remind them of a comma?

Come visit me — DJ Jazzy Jeff has a club in town,
Neeley

When you feel that insanity coming on...

I want to say this blog as been a little insanity-saver while I'm at work because I have at least a few hours of downtime during the night where I'm just totally bored. The night rim copy editors here come in at 4:30 and leave at 1, but we basically only work from 7-midnight, so I spend the rest of the time browsing for warm, woolen mittens and a few of my other favorite things to buy online, and also refreshing my e-mail, live journal friends page and this blog.

It's been a month since I've updated, and in that time I'm becoming a more well-rounded "copy ninja," have killed about 20 spiders in my apartment, had more drinks in one night than I have ever had (EXTREEEEEEEEEEME!), eaten 54 Friday's chicken quesadilla rolls and 45 bagel bites, read three books (including "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" - awesome), the Indianapolis Star has been brought up on the O'Reilly Factor 3 times, I've watched the entire first seasons of "Scrubs" and "Arrested Development," haven't gone to bed before 4:30 a.m., found a replacement for Schooner Night, and developed a serious coffee addiction. I've made it a ritual to go to Starbucks every day before work (nothing to do with the cute baristas working there) and it has saved my life, and also shortened it a little I think, but as long as I get my buzz, it's worth it. The schooner night replacement I've found is this awesome blues bar downtown that has live music and half-price drinks Thursday nights, and I've gone every Thursday after work because the bars don't close until 3 a.m. here... and it's 1 a.m., time to go scour the city for a bloody mary!

Jon

The worst thing for a hangover....

I once thought the very worst thing for a hangover was teaching a tennis class to a bunch of rambunctious little kids, but I have found something that surpasses that by far... Going to take pictures at girl scout camp.

Not just any day at girl scout camp, mind you. Food fight day. It entails 14 buckets full of spaghetti, scrambled eggs, milk, water, a stray kidney bean or two, and anything else the kitchen can scrounge up from the week's leftovers. The girls then face off against each other in an open grass clearing and start throwing. (The smell, oh holy hell... the SMELL! I can't accurately describe it... even on a strong stomach a day later, I'm starting to feel nauseated thinking about it.)

After they get completely covered in disgustingness, two firemen bust out the hoses and spray them all down. In an effort to get closest to the hose, the shrieking girls swarm the slightly frightened looking firemen. (At one point I got trapped behind the captain. Any route of escape I might have had was blocked by the now drenched, food covered, screaming little girls.)

Sure there was the hearing loss and almost losing my lunch, but the main result of my adventure in the tall grass is that now I am covered in bug bites. Literally covered... 128 bites are spread out all over my legs. I think they are banding together as I speak in an effort to become one massive, body-encompassing bite.

Courtney

p.s. I was going to post a picture of the contents of the bucket, but I couldn't knowingly inflict that on anyone else. Consider yourselves spared - and lucky.

Summer softball game

Well, we've produced four of the eight weekly papers this summer, and to celebrate this and the summer in general, the business manager and I have decided to schedule a summer addie-newsie softball game. (Geez that was a long sentence, and probably not gramatically correct. But hey, it's the summer.)

While J.R. Giddens is not returning to KU next year, a few of us will also not be returning but that doesn't mean we can't beat the addies at softball and drink beer. And for those of you who are returning, this game is for everyone, including you. And although it won't technically change our record, this summer game should be good fun and maybe give you something to brag on.

The game is going to be scheduled for the afternoon of Saturday, July 9. The game will be played at Hobbs Park, 11th and Delaware streets.

Later that same afternoon (about an hour after the game ends), I'll be holding a BBQ on my porch, front lawn and South Park. (200 W. 12th St. -- corner or 12th and Vermont) Hopefully, we'll celebrate a victory, but if not we can celebrate the summer or my impending pseudo-graduation. (I've got to find a job! A real one.)

If I get enough interest in the game and BBQ, I'll be purchasing a keg. Otherwise, you'll be left to your own devices. If you think you'd be interested in playing, please e-mail me so I know we'll have at least ten players. If you're interested in watching and/or going to the BBQ, e-mail me as well so I can get an approximate headcount.

This message is now too long. I hope to see many of you there, but for those I don't, have a great summer.

Watch out world, here I come,
Andrew

J.R. Giddens

WTF!
-Bill "canteen boy" Cross