LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST NI-IGHT

Man, last night positively sucked ass.

The suck is still continuing of course; I'm just trying to ignore it.

I've heard positive word about the new Kyle and Vlad, which means I haven't lost my touch, and that means you should expect another one sometime later in the week.

Goddamn, I have to write a poem for tomorrow. It has to be a rhyming couplet deal.

Last night at 8:30 pm my professor e-mailed me a critique of my last poem. He tore that thing to shit, and the worst part was, all of his comments were right. More unfortunately though, the man is batshit loco, which means each comment was a paragraph long and phrased as obtusely as possible, suggesting my metaphorical implication in using a "racecar bed" in one of my poem's stanzas. Look, it's not a metaphor. I'm just trying to make poetry cool, where you have so blandly failed.

(Eat it.)

Kevin and I play this fun new game, where I will ask him a question, then before he can answer I will say, "Eat it." It works best if it is an honest question that the person would actually like to answer. Example:

Handsome M@: Hey Kevin, how do you think the Flyers are gonna do this year?

Hapless Kevin: Well, I---

M@: (viperly) EAT IT.

We decided last night that everyone has an eat-it phrase, something that someone could ask them that would be extremely impolite to say "eat it" to, things about old, dead relationships and personal writings, not to mention unsightly physical features. "Eat it" might be the next step on the staircase of human interaction. I can't wait to interact with some stand-up audiences this way.

"And what do you do for a living, Ma'am? Eat it."