I think its impossible to watch Top Gun and not fall in love with the movie’s star …

… too bad that star just got forcefully retired.

What a clever avoidance! “Frak”, a word often used on “Battlestar Galactica” as an alternative to “fuck” (FRAK you FCC!), is making the jump to other television shows:

“Battlestar Galactica” was the best show of 2005 and it may yet turn out to be the best of 2006. In the third-season opener of “Veronica Mars,” the title character meets a “Galactica” fan who explains to her what “frak” means, and Veronica now uses “frak” whenever she means “fuck.” That’s pretty cool.

HT: AICN.

I spend a lot of time between classes sitting cross-legged on the floor here in Linthicum. Even now, my last class of the day is out, I’m sitting here because the other option is to get stalked through the parking garage for my spot, and then spend twenty minutes waiting for the bottlenecks at the campus exits to drain through.

Fuckadat.

Anyway, I’m on the basement floor, opposite the vending machines, and there’s a dude buying a chocolate bar who has a combo rat-tail/mullett, and don’t I wish I had a camera on my cell phone so I could post this digusting image on my blog? Yes. Yes, I do.

***

Someone came up to me and asked me what I was doing. “I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor typing on my computer.” They looked flumoxed (is that a real word? I’m not sure) and walked away. If she’d been cute — for that matter, if she’d been a she — I might’ve told her I was trying to look up her skirt, but since it was a he and he was wearing jeans, I didn’t.

Last week, Gary’s older dog went missing. His kids left the gate open and the dog got out of the backyard, so Gary grabbed his flashlight and his son and they went out looking for the older animal. They couldn’t find the dog.

The next morning, Gary’s neighbor — a vet — called. He’d found the dog — shot — on his front yard. The animal was at the vet’s office, and Gary signed the paperwork to have it put down (although they held-off to see how the dog was doing). His kids were, as you might imagine — they’re eight and five, if memory serves — very upset.

Gary was a little pissed, too.

The best anyone can figure it, the dog got loose, was running around, got shot, and somehow knew to get himself to the vet’s house — he might not have known it was the vet’s house, but apparently he’d been over there before when Gary took him out to walk.

He has some suspects — one of his neighbors shoots foxes, and Gary’s wife shaves the dog (to keep it cool), and when shaved the dog looks like a big fox. When he confronted this neighbor, the man didn’t admit to shooting the dog, but didn’t seem surprised, either.

Gary also suspects the crazy meth-making Greeks who rent a shack up the road, but is a little nervous to go speaking to them without a large armed backup (“A Marine Expeditionary Unit should do…”).

The night after this happened, Gary went out into his yard — he lives up near Parkton/Monkton — and lit up some fireworks. “Big mothers,” he said. “They sound like mortars.”

The next day, Gary spoke to one of his neighbors: “Man! I thought we were being invaded! I grabbed my 1911, and a case of beer, and sat by the front door and waited for those fuckers to come get me!”

To which Gary had to admit, “No, sorry man, just me …”

Writing your myspace profile in third person is fun. Who would I like to meet?

Jeff would like to meet twenty-million dollars and hide it between his mattress and his bedspring, but does not think this is a viable reality as he sleeps on a futon.

DogFaceBoy made me a “cootie catcher” for my folklore assignment, and I met her today in Lauraville to get it. The coffee shop we were going to meet at was unfortunately closed, so we wound up talking in the Safeway parking lot. When I was leaving, she remarked that I smelled very good, and inquired of the source?

Here’s the thing: I sometimes get paranoid about smelling bad, so particularly wanting to make a good impression odor-wise on my new Towson classmates, I might — possibly — go overboard.

The night before class, I spritz the clothes I’ll be wearing with febreeze. When I wake up, I lather myself thoroughly with soap, then apply an AXE brand bodywash in addition to my generic shampoo. I finish with an application of deodorant and a spritz of fragrance.

DogFaceBoy listened to all of this and then remarked that I smelled like “Perfume and pot.”

No wonder all the hippies keep chatting me up!

The problem with Bill Bateman’s having a location in the same building I have my Tuesday night night class in isthat it makes it ridiculously easy to get drunk before class.

I met up with the former XtraHeavyMarcellus for some dinner and booze, and, yes, if you haven’t already figured it out — I’ve got less than an hour until class and I’ve had three THREE! Bass Ales.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the 2nd floor of Linthicum Hall typing on my laptop, and the girl across from me is talking on her cell phone, and I’m quite certain I’ve never heard anyone talk on a cell phone as soft as she is. She’s twelve feet away – tops – and I can barely hear her!

(Also, she’s got great cleavage. Just sayin’).

I thought I could keep up blogging with my school-work and work-work requirements, but the fact is, I’m running myself ragged. Don’t get me wrong: I love being this busy. This is going to be a tough semester, but it’s already been close to a month and it doesn’t feel like a week.

I’m not going on hiatus. Post title aside, I’m not stopping blogging. I am done reading other people’s blogs on anything approaching a regular basis, at least until class is out. My blogging battery is dying as I syphon it off to fill my “study” battery, so posts will most likely be infrequent.

Anyway, I’ve got four hours to clean my apartment, do dishes, get a load into the laundry, write a paper for my computer class, read the next ten pages of “The Knight’s Tale” and do my reading for Folklore and Rock & Roll. Then I think I have plans — much needed and anticipated plans — to go out to Friendly’s for a sundae.

Hmmm.

Sundae.

*UPDATE*

Woah! I’m not stopping blogging. I’ll still blog. I’m just not going to make an effort anymore — I don’t have it in me! My effort has to be directed elsewhere. I’ll post when/if I have something to post about.

Playing on MIX 106.5? The English version of Nena’s “99 Red Balloons”.

Playing on JACK 102.7? The German version of Nena’s “99 Luft Balloons.”

You know those ads, usually in Maxim-ish magazines, featuring a naked chick wrapped in a blanket with a dazed look on her face asking, “What the hell was that?”, the implication being that if you ingest the medicine being advertised your mere touch will be enough to transmit to your partner ten billion orgasms in the space of fifteen seconds?

That’s sort of how I felt when I stumbled back into the store tonight after my final delivery, dropping the hot bags as I punched in on the computer, and surveyed the destruction wrought by a really super fucking busy evening. Not so much the orgasms as much as the ‘What the fuck was that?’ Triples, quadruples, and even a five-shot, a screen full of deliveries, no time to think except at red lights. Hard accelerations, hard brakings, a burned out bright-light, skidding over gravel and grass, running, tripping over shit, dearness goodness me.

All fucking night.

Not, mind you, that I’m complaining — $155 in tips and close to eighty in wage? Score!

There’s a tune we’ve had at work to tormet one of the managers. We changed the lyrics tonight:

“Everynight going to busy, everybody going to cry.”

Me? I’m too fucking tired to cry.

I’ve blogged on this before — Paramount is in the process of digitally upgrading the special effects and score of the Classic Star Trek. These episodes are being inserted into syndication beginning this weekend. If you’re interested in seeing upgraded Trek*, turn on WNUV 54 (which I believe is Comcast 14 in Baltimore County?) at 3am Sunday morning to catch the enhanced Balance of Terror, which introduced the Romulans, and also featured Mark Lenard — who would later play Spock’s dad — as the honorable Romulan commander.

Watch the trailer!

*This isn’t like the Star Wars Special Editions — the transfers are being cleaned up, the Enterprise f/x shots look true to the original (no barrel-rolls), and the newly recorded scores are done from the original sheet music and with orchestras which have worked on contemporaryStar Trek series.

The most recent of Michael Apted’s Up! film series chronicling a diverse group of children from Great Britain, 49-Up will be released in US theaters on October 6th, and on DVD on November 14th. The Up Series is one of the most compelling documentary series I’ve ever watched. Apted worked on the first film, 7-Up! which introduces the audience to several schoolchildren at the age of seven, with subsequent films revisiting those same children every seven years.

The first six films — 7-Up, Seven-Plus-Seven, Twenty-One, 28-Up, 35-Up, and 42-Up are available on DVD from Amazon and Netflix in a convenient box-set. I’m very exciting about seeing 49-Up — might even try to get to a theater for it — and I would once again like to thank Broadsheet for introducing me to this series.