11:14 is at the top of my Netflix queue and has been for several weeks. At first, it was a “long wait”, but just recently it dropped to a “short wait.” Today, it was back up to “long wait.” What the eff? Did my position got bumped? Sometimes, I really really really hate Netflix.

(I love Netflix).

USA Today:

Jacob Authier has achieved legend status at Chapman College not through scholarly or athletic pursuits, but by something he doesn’t do: wear anything other than sunglasses and black nipple paint on his upper body.

An online group formed in his honor — the Club Dedicated to the Fellow Without a Shirt — has 509 members and is exceeded in popularity only by the George Bush Is Not My Homeboy club.

It’s like something out of Undeclared.

I’ve never decorated any of my apartments for Christmas (I’m on my third apartment — plan on keeping this one for awhile). I’ve got a lot of furniture and a lot of stuff and generally all Christmas decorations would do is make an already cluttered space considerably more so.

But then I was lying on the living room floor the other night, head on a pillow, radio on in the background, and I looked up at the ceiling and thought how absolute bare it looked. So the next day I went to Target and bought a string of 100 jalapeno/pepper Christmas lights. I also bought a pack of white hooks. Long story short, I need to buy a couple more strings of lights so that my entire living room (and not just the west wall) can have eerie red Christmas light illumination!!!!!

And the beauty of it is, they’re sort of this bohemian flavor, right? I mean, particularly with my IKEA decor and overstocked bookshelves overflowing with books, dvds, knick-nacks and diecast World War II fighterplanes (not to mention the giant Lego castle in the corner), so I can just leave ‘em up all year long and they fit right in. Ooooh yeah.

Or, to be more precise, the battle between the Starbucks.

I just returned from the Gucci Giant where I was treated to a rare sight — a woman ignoring the irritating ring tone of her cell phone. Of course, she was ignoring it because she was talking on a pay phone. Pay phones? They still have those things? Also, why talk on a pay phone if you have a cell phone?

Steve and A. apparently had a squabble last night at their apartment over whether or not there was a microwave in the back of the store. The answer, by the way, is ‘yes’. So they called Zebulon to find out the answer — Steve lost. No sooner had Zebulon hung up the phone then I turned to Frank and said, “Dude, let’s hide the microwave.”

Unfortunatly, there is no place in the store to hide the microwave, aside for the dumpster, and getting it in there would most likely break it. So we just left it where it was.

My first delivery was to a top-heavy plastic-surgery happy housewife. The order was $10.49 and she tipped me fifty-one cents. My supressed instinct was to undo my nametag and use the pin to right what was clearly a big error in judgement in what doesn’t actually make her appear sexually desireable.