The Third Season Premiers Friday, October 6th at a brand-new time: 9pm. (This might be because the premier is going to be two-hours long). Oh, yeah, and to establish my geek credentials? (Like I needed to). Anyway, two words: “Live” and “Blogging.”

Yeah, I’m paraphrasing Ben Kenobi, you got a problem with that? Well, do ya, punk?

I’m speaking of course of MySpace.com.

I registered for a MySpace account like, I dunno, last winter sometime. And I promptly forgot about it for months on end until my sister called me up and said, “Bro, like, why aren’t you responding to my friend request?” I, having forgotten all about MySpace many months earlier, responded along the lines of, “Darling sister, I have no fucking clue what-so-ever as to what you are discussing and would much enjoy your clarification of your dialogue.” Which is to say, I said, “Huh?” or “…the fuck you talkin’ about?” (More likely, some combination of the two).

A few months ago, my long-lost buddy Russ tracked me down via MySpace. Although unfortunatly we haven’t yet been able to get together — real life blows — we’ve talked over e-mail, and we read each other’s blogs. Well. I read his. I don’t know that he reads mine. Anyway.

Last night, I got into a nostalgic mood and looked up a bunch of old classmates and friends. It occured to me, as I was doing this, that when I graduate next May, it will be ten years to the month I graduated from high school. Talk about feeling old! In any case, it was nice to reconnect with some of the people I’ve been able to over MySpace.

Like I like to say, “MySpace. It isn’t just for creepy perverts anymore.”

I didn’t, until today in Roots of Rock n’ Roll (where we discussed Jumpin’ Jim Crow and other blackface performances). Well, rephrase: I knew what an “earworm” was without knowing it was called an “earworm.”

(And, y’know, I totally forgot how draining college is. I wonder if I’ll be this blog-light through the end of the semester?)

Ever have a loop of a song that you simply cannot for any reason stop hearing? Often, accompanied by the urge to smash your head into a brick wall (and to repeat as neccessary). Anyway, that’s an “earworm.” (I’d not known it to have a word defining it, I thought “annoying fucking song” was that). Dr. Mancini had a helpful suggestion to get rid of it: “Drugs!” to which the class exploded in laughter and he waved his arms, “No, no, I’m joking…”

***

About a third of the Chaucer class withdrew. I’m nervous about memorizing the first 18-lines of the General Prologue too, but I’d rather take Chaucer with Duncan than, say, Hahn. It was cute, on Tuesday, the girl who sits in front of me — I think her name is “Terren” (liberties with the spelling are mine, she could be “Taran”) — remarked about his classes and his tendencies towards students who violate his behavior expectations as examples of “The Wrath of Hahn.”

“HAAAAAAHHHHN!”