Me too
If this is the last entry I post, it is because the quality television gods have struck me down: I'm currently downloading Kelly Clarkson's latest single, and for that I may get hit with a bolt of lightning.
It sounds a lot like Christina Aguilera, a pattern these days: Jewel's newest effort, "Intuition," is an Aguilera-clone as well, but meant in part as parody and I've spent the better part of the afternoon trying to catch the video on MTV or VH1's digital all-music channels. (Snoop Dog count: what, five times now? But no Jewel.) I've only been able to see the latter half of it, where Jewel takes her new soundalike counterparts to task for being too commercial. What I've seen is hilarious.
Speaking of, Weird Al's new album is out Tuesday. I am there.
Illinois wants to keep slow-ass McGees out of the left lane. Peter like.
I also like the conversation, a newsgroup I missed very much at school where newsgroup access is absent (groups.google.com is good for archival searches, but impossible for newsgroup browsing.) Specifically interesting was the recent thread about "Route 69" and how various DOTs protect their signs from being stolen. No part of the Internet is safe. Yeah, it's Usenet, whatever.
Matrix Reloaded did not disappoint, but my lack of review thus far does. Not that there's a lot to say, besides getting themselves in over their heads with the deep story, but it's still enjoyable enough, especially when Agent Smith is around. And around. And around. It's like Empire Strikes Back, where you need Jedi right after it to not feel a let down. Unlike the Star Wars Trilogy, though, we need only wait until November for the conclusion. A two year gap before Revolutions would kill me.
Scar
I've been drinking far too many root beers, but these lovable little IBC bottles are irresistable. Just call me a sucker for classic packaging.
After my repost (the third time, no less) of my review of Home for the Holidays, I've managed to sit through Auto Focus, Private Parts and now the last half-hour of Eight Legged Freaks, marking a sharp turn from usual holiday viewing. Unless you like shooting giant lesbian spiders having sex. I left my Home Alone DVD at school, or I'd pop that in, since it's a real Thanksgiving tradition; the few years that NBC ran it on Thanksgiving evening were a delight, and shape upon Bob Wright for eventually replacing it with Jurassic Park and finally episodes of Friends. It's just not the same without Kevin.
More scary is the VH1 "Behind the Music: the Spice Girls" I watched yesterday that now has me downloading one of their songs. On dial-up, no less. iTunes is much slower when you don't have the fat pipe.