"You better take care of me Lord. If you don't, you're gonna have me on your hands."

It's a sad day for journalists everywhere. Our dear Hunter S. Thompson died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Ouch.

I think I'm gettin' the fear, man...

Yeah, for those not so well versed in gonzo journalism, perhaps you're familiar with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or the upcoming film The Rum Diaries.

Or maybe you live in a small hole in the ground and have no idea what I'm blogging about.

And rather than be overly sentimental and brooding, I'll end with this fitting quote:

"And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting – on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Damn right.

ERICA and Wendy go to Bad Cracker Barrel

This is the all-ERICA blog! It's all-ERICA, all the time!

So Friday night was our Friends and Family night at Starbucks, and wouldn't you know it, my friend ERICA came! Well, I'd heard through the sorority grapevine that some type of party (which is a tame way of saying drunken crazy bash) was going to occur at my apartment. Not wanting to get caught up in that bruhaha, I suggested to ERICA that we hang out when I got off work.

When I got home from work, I changed clothes and then called ERICA. I went to her apartment, and we sat around a bit and watched a preview of "Naked News" before embarking on a lovely fun-filled adventure to the "bad Cracker Barrel."

At the BCC, we played that peg game. ERICA and I are not geniuses, and that's all I'll say about that.

I bought some Razzles and Tongue Splashers gum from the Old Country Store. Mmm. Well, actually, ERICA and I decided that the Razzles really tasted more like Flintstone vitamins than candy/gum. We ate them on the way to ERICA's apartment.

While driving back, I found out something disturbing about ERICA: She's afraid of driving over railroad tracks. In point of fact, she simply refuses to do it at all. She let go of the wheel while driving over the tracks. I wonder what it's like when she tries to beat the train.

I was prompt to tell ERICA how weird it was that she just let go of the wheel, and I happened to do this while we drove by some crosses by the side of the road. ERICA said I shouldn't be laughing because someone died there. Then we kept eating Razzles.

ERICA and I went to the gas station for some drinks and lottery tickets. I won a free ticket, but they're not redeemable on third shift, according to the supercool cashier whose fake nametag name escapes me.

At ERICA's place, we had some drinks and spent way too long trying to open the Tongue Splashers. Yes, they really are as good as you remember.

I slept at ERICA's because my ghetto-ass apartment still has no heat. The bastards!

The next morning, I woke up at ERICA's, but ERICA was still asleep. She said she was going to yoga at 10 a.m., but I have my doubts as to whether or not she made it.

"My unrivaled awesomeness!"

Colby did something blog-worthy today.

The trouble is I don't remember what it was. I was in the office today, and I remember saying to him, "You might make the blog today." And even though he ragged on me for not blogging more often, I decided to make good on my non-promise.

Michaela wants to make the blog, too. I've chosen her as my assistant. This really doesn't mean anything, as I have no authority to do this and have no need for an assistant. Mostly I just suggest that she do things for me, and she doesn't do them, and that's that. But once I gave her my debit card to get me a sandwich, and that was nice.

I have given her the extremely important responsibility of bringing me back a cheesy souvenir from San Francisco. I'm talking really cheesy, like a box of Rice-A-Roni made to look like a cable car and wrapped in a rainbow-colored gay pride shirt. Let's hope she remembers. If she does, I bet she'll make the blog again.

OK, enough with the enticing Michaela to bring me stuff.

Manda and I have been engaging in a back-and-forth bickering dialogue via the Sidelines dry erase story board. It started in the Opinions section and it's starting to leak into State & Local and Sports. Each comment has an arrow pointing to the next one. It's really quite amusing.

It all started with the listings of which columnists run each day, so under my name it says "who is still awesome."

Here is how the rest reads thus far:
"Bah, we'll see about that."
"Insanely jealous."
"Jealous of what?"
"My unrivaled awesomeness!"
"Hey! Hey! Be civil now!"
"Your mom's civil!"
"What?"
"I'm not responsible for your mom's shortcomings."

Indeed, I'm not.

Mmm...Tangy!

Matt and I ate air freshener.

I only ate it because Nick said, "It says, 'Tastes like candy. Eat all of it at once.'" Matt, however, ate it because he's an idiot.

We've yet to figure out whether or not it's toxic (I was gonna Google it, but we're not sure what brand it is), but it's been a few minutes and no one's passed out yet.

It tastes just like it smells. And it smells like citrusy goodness. And chewing gum.

So Nick (no last name) tried to get everyone in the office to eat the air freshener. He was unsuccessful, and he didn't even eat any himself. He doesn't know what a treat he's missing.

I sometimes feel good about myself because the SGA and all the people at this university help contribute to our yearly trip of getting wasted and galivanting around a big city.

I'm glad that at home I have some Dove truffles (courtesy of Adam) at home to take the taste out of my mouth. At least my mouth is citrusy fresh.

While discussing the Hubbert Peak (not long after air freshener appetizers), Kristin suggested that we're really not running out of oil, and we'll be able to survive if we take over all the countries that have it because they're "greedy little bastards."

The Vagina Monoblogues

So it's been a while since I've blogged, but I've had good reason. Erica introduced me to this great game, and I've been sucked into DynoMite ever since.

We've had an interesting day in the office. It's been a sad day for journalism, as several stories have had blatant errors or have just sucked.

OK, you bastards, stop playing DynoMite and keep reading. The game will still be there. Damn me and my links.

There are several new countries I'm unaware of, but according to a story, they're real: Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. Yeah. Not countries.

Did you know that the vagina is a metaphor?

I immediately contested this.

"My vagina's not a metaphor! It's real!" I screamed in protest.

Speaking of vaginas, Valentine's Day is coming up. Yeah, that's completely unrelated.

I'm deeply disturbed that it's Wednesday night and I still have no Valentine's Day plan, other than my 6 p.m. date with my Risk Management class. And I know that Adam usually doesn't work on Mondays, so I'm hoping I'll get to do something with him, being as though my Valentine's Days usually suck.

So, if I have no Valentine's Day plans by Thursday night, I'm going to have my own Valentine's Day celebration and go out after class with Erica and have some drinks or watch TV or something.

Oh, and I'm now Jay's Watch. And Joey is still awesome.

And, for those who just can't help but wonder, my metaphorical vagina is OK. Not LIKE OK, because that would be a simile. It IS OK.