International House of Pain

Today my body's on fire, my nose is all stuffed up from cat-related allergies and I'm half-delirious from having gotten 3 hours of sleep again. It can mean only one thing: I had a great fucking time hanging out last night. Between swimming, lifting, listening to the IHOP waiter's life story, rescuing 2 friends from the cops at some school playground, and doing backspins (poorly, I might add) on the floor at Emily's apartment, I think we did a pretty good job of "taking the holiday back."

Up this week: read Merchant of Venice, buy an atabaque, go to breakdance practice Wednesday, drive up to Chicago Friday, see High on Fire Sunday. Oh yeah, and go to work during the day I guess.

Unrelated: Beastard-sempai linked to this, and I thought it was pretty funny. I've never liked Superman much, and for a reason other than "he's too good." Back when I was in 7th or 8th grade I drew a lot of skulls and "mean" comic book characters like Wolverine, Venom, Magneto, etc... either villains or the type of heroes who kill lots of people. My dad complained about it one time, accusing me of "only drawing evil stuff," so to shut him up I tried my hand at drawing a pic of Superman, which I thought turned out to be pretty spiffy. It was basically just Superman looking heroic/flamboyant while flying over some kind of city. I show it my dad, and his only comment is, "those clouds look funny. That's not what clouds look like."

Fuck Superman.