tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64478740837240042692024-02-06T23:08:01.776-05:00No Eyebrows, No Mercy.mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-18196964939488036502009-09-03T15:14:00.004-04:002009-09-03T15:21:49.283-04:00Drew Danburry has a new website!Every once in a while, you might notice if you're paying any attention, a musician comes along that speaks from his or her heart with such profound insight and passion that his or her music lifts you to a higher place.<div><br /></div><div>Drew Danburry is one of those select few. I consider it a true honor to have met and spoken with him several times.</div><div><br /></div><div>He is on tour right now playing guitar and singing from his heart. Go catch a show. (<a href="http://myspace.com/drewdanburry">myspace.com/drewdanburry</a> for tour dates)</div><div><br /></div><div>It is my pleasure to introduce you to his wonderful world of sound.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Drew Danburry's new website:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.drewdanburry.com/">www.drewdanburry.com</a></div><div><br /></div><div>There are free songs. Go!</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-47543122178166934522009-04-29T22:56:00.004-04:002009-04-29T23:09:39.655-04:00Procrastination is not the enemy.I wrote my last post exactly one month ago. In the last month I have decided that it's not better to write nothing at all instead of writing all of the papers that were due. <div><br /></div><div>I usually procrastinate writing papers (like I'm doing right now) by writing about my feelings or some other bullshit on this blog or taking a walk around BU to try and clear my head.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I refrain from doing these things, an anxiety builds up in the back of my mind and the paper doesn't get written. Right now, I have a page and a half complete on an eight-page paper that was due this morning. I'll lose some points for sending it in late tomorrow morning, but I'll finish it nevertheless.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the problem is not the papers. There will always be papers (or whatever the equivalent is in my post-college career). The real problem is that I'm not satisfied with my life choices. There's something unspeakable that burns in my soul and makes me yearn for greater things than what I'm supposed to want. I don't give a shit about your fast cars and beautiful homes. I don't care about getting a job or making money or paying off my student loans. I have no motivation to write this paper. Not because I'm lazy, but because it really doesn't matter what I have to say about Elizabeth Bowen's wartime short stories. Even if these stories are of interest to me, that's all they are: something interesting. </div><div><br /></div><div>All I want to do is listen to one of my favorite albums and watch the river flow. I want to have deep conversations with whoever will sit and listen and discuss things with me. I want to play guitar--by myself because no one else appreciates it--and sing my fucking heart out. But I sit here and write these stupid papers about other people's stories when I should be creating my own.</div><div><br /></div><div>Can I get a witness?</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-23485013968841033282009-03-29T20:19:00.003-04:002009-03-29T20:52:07.550-04:00Summer is for Fucking (Part 2)As the days get longer, classes get harder to care about, and my mind wanders to the world outside the windows. Everybody is making plans for the summer and counting the days until classes end and fun begins.<div><br /></div><div>But I, for one, did not particularly enjoy last summer. A summer I spent scanning parking tickets and collecting money at a hospital parking lot right down the street from my childhood home was the last thing I expected to be doing with those four months of glorious weather and a reprieve from the dreariness of winter and classes.</div><div><br /></div><div>So this summer, I have plans:</div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li>Maybe I'll turn this blog into something that I'd actually want to read rather than just a catalogue of my meandering thoughts.</li><li>I want to write a collection of short stories. I want anyone who reads this list to tell me three things that you want me to include in a story and I will do my fucking damnedest to produce something entertaining for you.</li><li>I want to go on a road trip. Somewhere. Anywhere.</li><li>I want to record an EP or something with the greatest fucking band anywhere near BU, The Clap.</li><li>I want to see somebody in a crowded room staring back at me, lulling me into a trance with her eyes--or his eyes? Maybe an Otis Redding song will be playing. Maybe the night will turn into morning. The sun will probably rise. I'll make breakfast. </li><li>I want to accomplish something.</li><li>I want to love somebody.</li><li>I want suggestions from everyone on how to spend my summer.</li></ul>Let's hope that this summer I don't get fucked like last year. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cheers to those of you who have somebody to spend the summer with. Cherish them.</div><div><br /></div><div>~MC</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. Professors.</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-7268786694880170512009-03-18T15:23:00.009-04:002009-03-20T17:51:25.141-04:00St. Patrick's Day, or Why Irish People Party Better Than Everybody Else<div>Imagine a band of fiddlers, mandolin pluckers, pipe corps, and Bono playing a song about the countryside. Imagine you're inside an authentic Irish pub, downing a pint with Denis Leary. Now sit back and enjoy my list of reasons why Irish people party better than everybody else.</div><div><br /></div>Reason # 1: Pints of Guinness make you strong.<div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTc53EJLK_gngky1eQD_L8rT2ei8LLcY0a3kKePUPHIpgzCGhhmNotehhcsrXwTkmH5jdsPc_3qHpVI_B5y0JD9TyFYxQhyphenhyphenFZ1YRo-lryl1Np6ylpFTJZmQx5T4sDESvTeHXta_HqkSkUw/s200/guinness-for-strength-posters.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315390232381412226" /></div><div>Reason # 2: Blonde hair, blue eyes, green shirts.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Reason # 3: Drinking in the day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Reason # 4: Bastards on parade.</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvVUzjGW_u21cuI_etpr1xXZii9UC2f7MZR6e2V5z0EOT4u6m9AqLiCh26gqJD8c5UMVzujcTRke7eENuhwOSC3Y9WyfBUVN5ZOz_4pfFs8BT8HpM9A7OD7u1AYVt8N4y3wn2ZmMqllFy/s200/erin-go-bragh.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315388915968617458" /></div><div>Reason # 5: Whiskey.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reason # 6: Everyone else is pretending to be Irish and with good reason.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reason # 7: The Dropkick Murphys.</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 146px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3boPG123NMcbjerKOn6kgRAuiTT2HKPEt-7ojN3AWS_WPYbLy3trlcOBmqxMhmq6218ZMrgjGZaZtSL_Z6jiiy2yvSnnO09iCi-xpB8o3tGYDvcK1Vo3SiUDnQ14VcubmT1ATCa-AvLo/s200/draft_lens2041971module10117049photo_1214117504DropkickMurphys.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315389368377130706" /></div><div>Reason # 8: Green beer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Reason # 9: Even a good Catholic boy doesn't have to feel guilty on this, the feast day of the <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>patron saint of Ireland, New York, Boston, Nigeria (why?), engineers, and against snakes. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Those slithering bastards.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reason # 10: Everyone eats corned beef AND cabbage, two equally repulsive foods, and <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>pretends to really be enjoying it.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Golden Reason: Um, hello, Leprechauns.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaQTXQAej7dMH9k28lmcO3sYASPNOapFH-0rblnTY8_xQkC37QZ8hV3DvIJoBvY3m9Jk8iA4tCrSPzZYLWn-XnYPmevu2jZzrsJ-ddjmOijgfs8npReex2Yzgx4qZYd_rbGMB8cMK7Ria/s200/leprechaun-797007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315389858050040482" />mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-12564528537576303802009-03-10T18:07:00.007-04:002009-03-18T15:21:09.691-04:00Spring Brake? (Part 2)This one might take me a few more words.<div><div><br /></div><div>I stayed up until 5 AM the morning before going home. The previous night involved Chinese food, bears, a few bottles of wine, a beautiful woman, multi-colored dreadlocks, and a loaded handgun. I won't go into detail.</div><div><br /></div><div>I woke up a few hours later and hurriedly packed in order to make an early bus back to New York. I didn't make the early bus. I did, however, return in time to see the Dropkick Murphys play at the Roseland Ballroom. There was this chick band called Civet. The lead singer screams a bit (she's clearly been hurt before).</div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuv2zeIGCgc_MoofaUECb3MiknDOMW0wQPms75mBY1RgETETssvjV4p0TTicCO7ggex08lQ7EWrRUCGch9ZMQ6eyKP1H6UpwsjPYqjzx7w81e0gI7cQNbby4d8DzgQkKa9Mgs_SBZBlsiD/s200/Mcdonalds_Is_Evil.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314607241022172034" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Before that, I was refused service at a New York City pizza joint--the day I got back. I ate at McDonald's. Life is not fair.</div><div><br /></div><div>Later, I was handed a garbage bag full of condoms, a pair of handcuffs, and a vibrator. Life is so not fair. This story also involves a white rat, a chest tattoo, and a trip to Australia. It's probably better if I just leave it at that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got a haircut and the guy at the salon asked me for my cell phone number. I gave it to him--somewhat reluctantly and confusedly. He then explained that he wasn't asking me on a date but sometimes he has extra tickets to Red Sox games. If none of his friends can come, he said he'll give me a call. He's 55 and he and his wife have been good friends with my mom for twenty years. I felt awkward so I made some joke about NPR. He then told me about liberal conspiracies and how I'd be a conservative once I had a mortgage and kids. He's probably right. I'd drop my morals and convictions in a minute if it would make my life any easier. I'm a hypocrite. But my hair is beautiful and silky soft.</div><div><br /></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 98px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqk9MLvj3gPrakp5aBgMDbOPNyFgYSnW56fCFeGQ36pHNF-YhlypYtbMtWyb0iF-BNFaDVmrMveYH6yjysjlXXWSJnlRt2RqCxj3KbgBaKbVlrnKXBCCn3JbAh1HnP2crtohida56AZXr/s200/One_Bad_Rat.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314609000685202546" /><div>Later that night, when my friend and I were walking out of a pool hall, we saw a Petco across the street. We went in, of course, and my friend bought a black and white rat and named her Mary the Rat. This is why I hang out with him. Things are always interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Other activities included collecting several dozen white rocks at some private beach and visiting my 82-year-old grandma in Queens in between writing papers and writing songs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I'm back in Boston and Spring Broke--I told you about the puns.</div><div><br /></div><div>~MC<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-55873437833242660872009-03-07T22:59:00.004-05:002009-03-10T18:07:05.775-04:00Spring Brake AKA The Bad Puns Continue...Time to chill out.<div><br /></div><div>Turn off all of the bullshit. Turn on the TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stop. Take some time to think. Figure out what's important to you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Music. Family. Food.</div><div><br /></div><div>Silence. Enjoy it.</div><div><br /></div><div>My spring break so far, in less than 50 words.</div><div><br /></div><div>More Later...</div><div><br /></div><div>~Mc</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-27011968108109053792009-03-02T08:44:00.003-05:002009-03-02T23:58:08.919-05:00S'no Day AKA More Bad PunsBoston University cancelled class today. Therefore, today did not happen.<div><br /></div><div>I was so fucking excited that I finally had a snow day again that I commemorated the occasion by watching a lot of TV and taking a lengthy nap. Being in college allows me to invent new ways to waste my life each and every day of my hapless existence.</div><div><br /></div><div>My sister wrote a 9-page short story. I ate some chicken and curly fries that I found in my room.</div><div><br /></div><div>My dad enjoyed his snow day in beautiful, scenic New Hamphire. I literally watched the Charles River thaw.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kids in the area had snowball fights and built igloos. I decided against taking a shower.</div><div><br /></div><div>I watched the second season of Seinfeld. It was the highlight of an entirely blissful period of time in which I would normally listen to other people tell me how to live my life and why the way I am currently doing it is wrong. </div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to summon the energy to walk down the hall of my dorm only to watch <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Jon and Kate Plus 8</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Sex and the City</span> with Andrea. I think I'm a Miranda.</div><div><br /></div><div>Andrea studied for her Italian midterm tomorrow. I made inane comments and philosophized about the mental well being of poor Jon (he hates himself).</div><div><br /></div><div>Snow days are fucking awesome. Not because they allow you to finally accomplish all of those things you've been too busy to do but because they allow you to procrastinate those activities without guilt or shame.</div><div><br /></div><div>I raise my glass to everyone else who enjoyed this snow day American-style (fat, lazy, and in front of the television).</div><div><br /></div><div>'Til next time,</div><div><br /></div><div>~The one and only</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. 35 days until Jesus comes back. I hope he brings food. Yeahhh!!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-1487842067325596282009-02-26T17:24:00.003-05:002009-02-26T22:31:00.441-05:00ReLENTless AKA I like bad puns...I am a Catholic. <div><br /></div><div>Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. It was the first Ash Wednesday in as long as I can remember that I did not receive ashes. I didn't forget either. I was reminded by my sister via text message that I should get them and I saw people with them on their foreheads walking around all day. </div><div><br /></div><div>I even had an opportunity to receive them when I came out of Beijing Cafe last night around 10:20 and saw the lights on across the street in Marsh Chapel. My friend Kara and I walked up to the doors and peered inside at all of the people attending mass. She said to me, "We could stay. It's up to you." I declined, so instead we went to Crispy Crepes for dessert.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the way there, we discussed fate vs. pre-destination and other matters pertaining to faith and religion.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm not sure what I believe anymore, but I've always gotten ashes" I said.</div><div><br /></div><div>She replied, "Well, what do they mean?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't answer that. I mustered up something nonsensical about Jesus spending time in the desert and the palms from Palm Sunday being used to make the ashes and just blurted it out. I also told her that I wasn't giving anything up for Lent.</div><div><br /></div><div>What would I give up? </div><div><br /></div><div>-Being awesome? Not possible.</div><div><br /></div><div>-My old ace in the hole, soda? Already given up for health reasons.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Women? Yeah, right.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Alcohol? See above.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Junk food? What does that really even accomplish? I love junk food. It's delicious.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure there's something that I could give up for Lent if I really thought hard about it, but I just don't care as much as I did when I was a kid and my teachers and my mom told me to give something up. Maybe I don't have as much faith anymore. Or maybe I never did; it was just obedience to adults and once I was old enough to make my own decisions, I gave up my religion.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the end, just to satisfy Kara--who didn't like my previous post (I know, how could anyone NOT like that? I was just thinking the same thing.)--I have decided to give up fiddling with the flukes of modern technology and trying to learn how to salsa dance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Umm, you're welcome, Kara.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Mike</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. 39 days 'til Jesus gets back, Woot Woot!!!</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-22968640039205080752009-02-25T01:01:00.002-05:002009-02-25T01:15:22.963-05:00Top Ten Reasons You Shouldn't Go To College10. Getting a job is overrated.<br /><br />9. $200,000 - 4 years.<br /><br />8. You'll stay up all night writing inane things on your blog that no one reads.<br /><br />7. By senior year, you will be an alcoholic and a smoker.<br /><br />6. High school girls are easier.<br /><br />5. Your roommate will be a douchebag.<br /><br />4. Prison food is better.<br /><br />3. You'll major in Disappointment with a minor in The Art of Bullshitting.<br /><br />2. Facebook will take up most of your time, with short breaks for eating and sleeping through class. (It's not as fun as it sounds.)<br /><br />And the number one reason why you should never, under any circumstances go to college is... (drumroll)<br /><br />...<br /><br />...<br /><br />1. You will learn enough to realize all of the above and eventually drop out anyway.<br /><br />Thanks for watching, folks. Get home safe.mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-89150438405800429932009-02-17T21:59:00.005-05:002009-02-18T00:36:16.985-05:00It's the End of the World As We Know ItPlane crashes in the Hudson. Everyone lives. Miracle.<div><br /></div><div>Plane crashes into a house in Buffalo. Everyone dies. Tragedy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fires ravage Australia. Thousands die.</div><div><br /></div><div>I say, "Apocalypse."</div><div><br /></div><div>Ever seen the movie <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Armageddon? </span>Yeah, well shit ain't goin' down like that. If an enormous meteor is hurtling towards the Earth at breakneck speeds, some oil tycoon isn't going to land on it, drill into the center and set off a nuclear bomb, saving us all just in time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpH-nwgDiXsRaqwooGnSt8S_p1yFYopiC7kqYAyHCUvVLgBWqQ-_dvMlcEoC5b-sRL7l59JK7OUlwm6XhgKHElwWS52ZUr5K0nybYYDlqaZftp_R0PuR5XD5A4390f5IrJc2OWpTIaHX1/s200/armageddon29zb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304006472800560482" /><div>It's just gonna end. Game over. No survivors.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I, for one, would love to die in the apocalypse. If there is an afterlife--just humor me, atheists--then you get to tell everybody out there how it all went down. You get to know everything that human history has to offer. Sweet.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs80Fr-Meh7AW0mbnB8lc-U9KOro-UU2OJFOoAutg5D2jWhmKyDIwwCpwI2iUhqAStsOUFAgoE02jSG9ZBrITWZRNuSC_X5pZ2HB5ZUk1sst6cCWmHoqBfHkxVF4HaJ-jcaZces7TBpSZH/s200/Hand_Above_The_Water_002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304006647769754578" /><div>This ship is sinking. We're all going down.<br /></div><div>In the end, we're all gonna drown.</div><div>Sink or swim. The hour is here.</div><div>But never fear, the end is near. </div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-42064809320572167222009-02-10T01:01:00.002-05:002009-02-10T01:25:35.093-05:00Sleep is for LoversSleep is overrated. So is love. Love is trouble. Love is cruelty. Love is pain.<div><br /></div><div>Love is like cancer. It doesn't stop growing until it kills you. Not that I'm complaining.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm trying a new thing. It's supposed to be cathartic. My own personal Europa.</div><div><br /></div><div>As a writer, I'm supposed to be the one creating and manipulating through words and images, yet these words seem to have more control over me than I do over them.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, Europa exists only in my head. It's this idealistic vision of the way my life would be if I left school and moved to Europe, at least for a little while anyway. Maybe it's all just fleeting. </div><div><br /></div><div>Joey says life is meaningless. Maybe, but we're all human (or are we dancer?). So I search for meaning amidst the emptiness, unlike Camus over there. Because without hope, I have nothing. Maybe I have nothing anyway. </div><div><br /></div><div>A tree fell in a forest. There was no one there to hear it. It made a loud fucking sound.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe now I can go to sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Mike</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. I promise you that the next post will be funny and lighthearted...and maybe a little irreverent. SPOILER ALERT!!! There will be midgets and breasts and maybe a little drug use. Dammit, that sounds like the plot of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">In Bruges</span>. Originality, too, is overrated. </div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-3528698955831109172009-01-28T00:14:00.002-05:002009-01-28T00:34:17.139-05:00Restless Legs Syndrome.Have you ever seen an ad for some bullshit medical problem on TV and been like 'I have that'?<div><br /></div><div>Well, I have.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's called Restless Legs Syndrome and it affects those who thirst and hunger for something more out of their lives. Of course, the doctors want you to think that medicine can cure it, but doctors just want to make money off of some drug that is only good for getting you addicted to something new. Yeah, like I fucking need that.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is what Wikipedia has to say on the subject:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: -webkit-sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: '-webkit-sans-serif'; line-height: 19px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"Any type of inactivity involving sitting or lying—reading a book, a plane ride, watching TV or a movie, taking a nap—can trigger the sensations and urge to move. This depends on several factors: the severity of the person’s RLS, the degree of restfulness, the duration of the inactivity, etc."</span></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: -webkit-sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It sounds like somebody just needs some goddamn exercise. Never mind the fact that we live in a society that stresses the hell out of us every single day of our godforsaken lives. Aghh, it drives me crazy!!!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; line-height: 19px;">I need a stiff drink and someone to punch in the mouth. Oh, and if you "actually" have that and are offended by this, you can fuck right off because I have no goddamn sympathy for anyone who is coaxed in to believing this crap. Where is Denis Leary when you really need him?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; line-height: 19px;">~Michael Fucking Carlos </span></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-81416628919868989552009-01-19T23:04:00.002-05:002009-01-19T23:36:45.585-05:001.20.09 - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning...Well, the day is finally here. Bush has left office. In his place stands a man with a whole helluva lot of work to do and a microscopic environment in which to go about his business. Can Obama do it?<div><br /></div><div>As a college student, I felt a strong emotional rush come over me on November 4th. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced in my life. This man stood in front of the entire world on that night and accepted its challenge to save it. It was very hard to avoid feeling a sense of pride on that day--to know that in some small way I was a part of this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pride.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two things of importance happened over the last 24 hours. Irish rock band U2 premiered their new single, "Get On Your Boots." As an avid fan of the group, I eagerly awaited its arrival by listening online to Rte Radio 2fm in Ireland, which played the song on the air at 3:10 AM Eastern Standard Time. A jolt of joy ran through my bloodstream as I repeatedly listened to the hypnotic rhythms and wonderfully unfamiliar melodies of the sixth track off of the band's forthcoming album, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">No Line on the Horizon</span>. With the naivete of hopeful youth, I gaze out my window at the peaceful calm of the Charles River, and I see with my eyes and feel in my heart no line on the horizon.</div><div><br /></div><div>The second thing that happened was the fact that when I awoke this morning, I did not have any classes in observance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. What a magnificent day that we all too often take for granted as just another Monday without any school. Well not today. I went about my business as usual: reading for class tomorrow, having lunch with my sister, dinner with good friends, but something was different. Something intangible was following me all day. It was like I was walking with a ghost.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now nothing of any particular significance happened to me today, but I was overcome by pride and felt joyful at my very existence on this planet. In my excitement over the new single, I listened to almost every song in U2's canon. When I got to "Pride (In the Name of Love)," tears welled up in my eyes. The opening guitar riff that is absolutely timeless and heroic coupled with the most perfect lyrics.</div><div><br /></div><div>One man come in the name of love</div><div>One man come and go</div><div>One man come here to justify</div><div>One man to overthrow</div><div><br /></div><div>In the name of love</div><div>What more in the name of love</div><div>In the name of love</div><div>What more in the name of love</div><div><br /></div><div>One man caught on a barbed wire fence</div><div>One man he resist</div><div>One man washed up on an empty beach</div><div>One man betrayed with a kiss</div><div><br /></div><div><div>In the name of love</div><div>What more in the name of love</div><div>In the name of love</div><div>What more in the name of love</div><div><br /></div><div>Early morning, April four</div><div>Shot rings out in the Memphis sky</div><div>Free at last, they took your life</div><div>They could not take your pride</div><div><br /></div><div>What else is there to say?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-68222119945565316892009-01-18T14:40:00.006-05:002009-01-18T15:18:35.501-05:00MEN, LISTEN UP: PMS Symptoms On The Rise<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMaMiZ3hM3yipSWo1b6TnnZLYFQ49M5RYhK-nWks4RpIQqFR_jH0MEot_nk274gDlaBr3fox1kaBnd4j5_LafQHjTEAVLhr5YJvKBFpP8zhcKNXJu8gR2focG-yr9Rpa_umA1JiTsoHJw/s1600-h/angry-woman-rolling_~15477-18dg.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMaMiZ3hM3yipSWo1b6TnnZLYFQ49M5RYhK-nWks4RpIQqFR_jH0MEot_nk274gDlaBr3fox1kaBnd4j5_LafQHjTEAVLhr5YJvKBFpP8zhcKNXJu8gR2focG-yr9Rpa_umA1JiTsoHJw/s200/angry-woman-rolling_~15477-18dg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292729835376741490" /></a>Now that the FDA has warned consumers to avoid peanut butter indefinitely, we are all at risk to be attacked by something much more deadly than salmonella: Women on their periods. <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Of course, most men know to steer clear of the fairer (psh, right) sex during that time of the month. However, my research indicates that the only reason women are able to show any type of emotional restraint whatsoever during these intervals is the combination of chocolate with peanut butter.</div><div><br /></div><div>No Reese's Peanut butter cups mean that she will be chewing you out instead.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR8M0NecnexClOdZiPCgHvR89T9OqPTquCu332u3My8Qdxki0Eiyjoy-QwVGYpaEVE7xV90s1N5XHveewkooBPY5fjubNA2no87Wqcj3gP7zN1cKPk9LJG1hzGexoOzst9W2yLVgtQX8Zl/s200/SuperStock_255-11889.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292729066018024434" /><div><br /></div><div>But don't fear, comrades, I have come up with a few handy tips on how to handle the women in your life.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>1. Do not, under any circumstances, initiate conversation with any woman regarding her mother, bitchy friend, co-workers, or any women whom she perceives to be prettier than her.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Actually listen to her when she's in a complaining mood (which will be always). I know this will be hard, but you might have to turn off the TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Do not make eye contact with any woman whom you do not already know. Chances are that she will take it the wrong way and subsequently kick your ass.</div><div><br /></div><div>THE GOLDEN RULE: If all else fails, eat a whole jar of chunky style Skippy, get salmonella poisoning and take solace in the sweet release of death.</div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRuACbqmM8jivHXb28wMhB0VkYtv_ibltoK8VhSk30dSBu0sfGVyUk-F7CP_JxjAThDPGiB3NOu3fGPbTq0HJbh7RKBhxMIDF6SRPxfqFo9oroDIBfsa_j7S3AQqEAAvn4PGoodwW_MKSi/s200/image4656804g.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292729312249579058" /></div><div>Until next time,</div><div><br /></div><div>~The man without a plan</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-48389758218565067902009-01-05T03:11:00.018-05:002009-01-05T04:16:46.768-05:002009 - I Wanna Sink to the Bottom with You<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1uU4WzdhYTiL7xNiO3KgYrpzbKGNi4Xk_zw498ygSOpX_2VGjm0eWUHe7x1vAYuF0VTkqBFjB5SVL47_Q0zgZDV8GhQV2a6UQQA_w0_H0NsVp4A72EW-ZCJ1NovVRE3jFHh2y5HeWfEs/s1600-h/gin+and+tonic.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1uU4WzdhYTiL7xNiO3KgYrpzbKGNi4Xk_zw498ygSOpX_2VGjm0eWUHe7x1vAYuF0VTkqBFjB5SVL47_Q0zgZDV8GhQV2a6UQQA_w0_H0NsVp4A72EW-ZCJ1NovVRE3jFHh2y5HeWfEs/s200/gin+and+tonic.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287734698887604306" /></a>2008 is over. <div>Thank God.</div><div><br /></div><div>Time to make some New Year's Resolutions.</div><div><br /></div><div>I resolve to:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Host a '50s theme cocktail party and outdrink everyone else there. Then </div><div>I'll cheat on my subservient, suburban housewife with a hot, young secretary from my firm, where I sell the lie of the American dream. Then I'll drive home. The Real American Dream.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>2. At the very least, play one show with The Clap!, an amazing musical group that I helped found. C'mon everybody, get the Clap!</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNI3VCLpOb1_VBJ68Lx3NrzQ6fESWN2x9RHKGtI0IwhPfkRJsJLBhkJq454CBBwqyc7_lAlkkCD94k3OIuuipeVM33pESsLaZYNA_4fP2OtPqb0d1aXWReIvsxibIpjx3bbnvWaRMZMbs/s200/SuperStock_1569R-222013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287727028105459666" /></div><div>3. Win a staring contest with an 8-year-old.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just gonna let the awesomeness of that one settle in.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb7KD9v_zPrV7yJGlqqUE-qqRIPZqJFOliXeMTcS3jj_b9NA9Sop5nNSciHeEh5lG7hGnSAfTmIv5OMeoTMjRRusOKPYd_-lh9z8_Ct8xFVFNHtN_bfS_7_Eh64wQffvxn93-Ku5Lqbn8/s200/cwln382l.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287734380014715090" /></div><div>4. Build my credit....card debt.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>5. Steal your girlfriend.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Kick your ass.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Wake up from my delusions of grandeur.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_ZIvQgQSNT2PE69Wjv6m_XlqF6TuY4H0KxUVxYtXIAeSAEjf_j-_lCgwfzFhp5oKqP6-HCaMX_efCX2rt4_W9epPGJ2gpoGahWNyFNDEQq-iDu9UjefMZN8OKiby93aLVKKyBOVBDj7O/s200/bcp004014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287730561184835714" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>8. Improve my wardrobe to an acceptable adult level.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Finally write my first groundbreaking novel.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>10. Travel the countr--nay, the world!</div><div><br /></div><div>11. Stay afloat in the failing economy, or sink to the bottom with the one I love--that's right, YOU, my loyal reader.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Try to keep your heads above the swell, ladies and gentlemen. It's going to be a long swim. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQVER2Cwq8RwY-8UL1T9P8O27dG49nyuRW9YNS46iDweYph8c1kPTt9nLHyOJGJzMZxzGiUE-zMfCBal9alxcmUEtJhQZjT2LilA-fDD7FkRWhf9RCvwizOO7ZlRUzVW5g8-4-F8ZgE7B/s400/red_ink_boarding.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287731722749030578" /></div><div>In 2009, the Chinese year of the Ox, let's hope we can be as stubborn as an ox, as sly as a fox, as brave as a lion, and as lucky as a leprechaun, or else we're fucked. </div><div><br /></div><div>See you in Hell,</div><div><br /></div><div>~MC</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-78801716251874444372008-11-10T02:20:00.003-05:002008-11-10T02:33:19.462-05:00I'm gonna start posting more often, I swear.So I haven't written anything on here since I promised to write about my summer.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>I didn't fulfill that promise, so why should you expect me to follow up on this one? I'll tell you why: because I am angry and filled with things to say and if I don't get them out then I fear I might combust.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Anyway, I'm gonna keep this one short and sweet but expect some rants to appear in the coming weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>As always,</div><div><br /></div><div>~Miguel Charles</div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98vDwryzzHfiYkPB0itID5n05slyZxuyG9y-kLyhRtjENzhz_PlHMaiYersqfpurnOzWtBrt2uvpHtXr1XXH0S2whsmnc6Qkk6_LTNme3g6uZ4ytQM-Ge7ibcK-fMjSBQBDNNlDCGCI3t/s400/jnsq2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266928490802173858" /><div><br /></div><div>Oh, P.S. My friend Jill is studying abroad in France for the year. I've provided you with a link to her blog in the--wait for it-- "Links" section on the right side of the page. It's the one with the French title (don't worry, it's in English). Read up on Jill's zany misadventures in scenic Grenoble. There are pictures. You'll like it.</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-25825709306656944842008-06-30T03:12:00.002-04:002008-06-30T03:16:15.529-04:00New Poll QuestionBy the way, this question is totally a joke. If you find it inappropriate, you're an idiot and you've missed the point completely.<div><br /></div><div>It's kind of my immature college equivalent of the fourth grade note that reads:</div><div><br /></div><div>do you like me? (circle one) </div><div><br /></div><div>YES<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>NO<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>MAYBE</div><div><br /></div><div>And if anyone's interested my number is 867-5309. For a good time, call.</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-33856716173601459552008-06-30T02:31:00.003-04:002008-06-30T02:57:10.118-04:00Summer is for Fucking (Part 1)I thought it was about time to make a new post here. I've learned to hate this Godforsaken blog over the past few months, but I'm gonna try to turn it around in time for the beginning of classes in the fall.<div><br /></div><div>Summer is for fucking because summer is when all the cool kids have sex on the beach and under shady trees and in public restrooms--wait, scratch that last one, that's pathetic, lonely old men, but at least they're getting laid--and the losers like me continually get fucked by everyone but the girl of my dreams. And also because I say the word fuck a lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>First of all, Fuck you, Grassroots Campaigns Inc., you suck. You take money from people without being able to tell them where it's going. While briefly working for you, I quickly realized that that's because it's going to lobbyists and special interest groups, you fucking hypocrites. "We're nonpartisan, we swear." Oh yeah? Is that why you have a picture of John McCain likened to Hitler in your New York canvassing office and you start off the day by saying left is right and right is wrong. I don't care whether I support Obama or not, don't tell me that you're nonpartisan and then shove liberal views down people's throats. I'm not a conservative, but i'm also not a fucking liar, which is more than I can say for GCI. Good riddance, motherfuckers.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the way, after I quit, these high class employers withheld my pay for the two days I spent out on the street, discovering that Europeans will stop when you look them in the eye but Americans will pretend to be on the phone or just ignore you entirely. I still haven't received the money, and frankly, I wouldn't accept it anyway. When I came back to the office with a large number of stops (people who stop to talk to me and my clipboard) but only $60 on my first day out, and in the pouring rain I might add, I was informed that I needed more training in how to </div><div>get those people to give me their money. The problem is why would anyone give their credit card information to a man on the streets of New York with a clipboard and no identification proving his affiliation to the group that he claims to be representing. I wouldn't and neither should you, because chances are that it's a swindle. Therefore I quit and was essentially fucked as I had wasted all of my money from my job in Boston and didn't even have the prospects for another job. I know, not entirely their fault but nevertheless I was fucked. But that's what the summer is for.</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't proofread this post, so please excuse the typos and mindless errors that I may have made. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be updating this more throughout the summer as I find more examples of why summer is for fucking, or in my case, for getting fucked. </div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-1981267693268511512008-04-19T06:43:00.007-04:002008-04-19T07:36:51.573-04:00My ListIf you want some background info on why I'm doing this read the lengthy post that follows this one. My apologies to those of you who don't have the time or attention span to devote to reading more than a paragraph or two. <div><br /></div><div>The book inspired me to make my own list of childhood dreams, or goals, and to do a check-up of sorts to see how I'm coming along.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Become a professional baseball player.</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSY6MqWP3KmZMQY6NpcQhEZ50zsBk2lCDgUyB93hOJoN4R8r9fmS6MSTAmirHB8OOytgOVNvg7G-E62UYxXZ2Ztk64VtM7uIhPg1No_-THUG01_1FV_zruF4J9cD1PDbfXQL6MQlHbn-YF/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190913748641925810" /><div><br /></div><div>~Status: Failed. However, I did just kick my floormates' asses in some MLB 2K8. I don't care if Sutie's never played before, I'll still be greedy on the basepaths.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Go to college. Don't drop out. (Sorry, Dad, but I've always been nervous that I'd take the same route you did. Hope you understand.)</div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: In production. So far, so good, I haven't cracked under the pressure yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Get married to a woman that I love with all my heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: Fuck, does this one seem like a difficult task at the moment. Maybe in a few years, these girls won't be so fuckin' self-absorbed. Or maybe I'll have the balls to pursue the ones who aren't so self-absorbed. By the way, your obsession with MTV and celebrity gossip makes you LESS appealing.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Have kids. Love said kids with all of said heart.</div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGBnTTm3vI42eN_2rcRWbLuos9KR8Iqq94MBACBInM7YIEaPGoi1QAA-nW6oSn9BXfLWQaH-acuGUo4TWilxrEfpzsvmBaQNDh6WL3cbA5Bn-1Zv_oWQNasQNe9lCjR3pBZIaold0vEUF/s200/ireland-vacation-packages.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190914362822249154" /></div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: Complete step 3 first.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Go to Ireland.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: In discussions with sister about proposed future trip to Europe. I'm confident this one will happen.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. Write a book.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: Well, I'm honing my skills as a writer through the employment of this blog as well as improving myself with the criticism and assistance of BU's writing faculty.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. Become a famous musician.</div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56fx6LKComO25uOHbaJlZhQSysrBn5Ipq6P4W_Fxeh3kCgOxk8jeSBVunyTBqu6P7qvCct-xklsFJCUGE_s0u672wOhErrvJSC4ABdBJGEmlS9vZjinc9FHxd4Gqv37s1rd8ifi8ubaqg/s200/1464021099_l.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190915196045904594" /></div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: Most likely not going to happen; however, striving towards this goal with my heart completely immersed in it for two years really helped me to mature and grow. My continued guitar-playing and songwriting is also an excellent release for everyday stresses and a superb form of self therapy. I'm a fucking artist. Two people will get that joke.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Be healthy (as far as it is under my control to do so).</div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: In progress. I'm in shape, but not as good as I wanna be. Need to eat healthier and do more fun athletic things that I haven't done as much since coming to college.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. Help People.</div><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQk0CCplQhXjyVnYYxQakd5W7bfUO08xRQvyOLfGy3JF-T8IYdC32-veF0ClwkDaRmtTcuyNk-g9MquQKfI_ZPxwuSmMPv2o4esJ_noSn-BZTMsHVshojlkUcfe-Kp1YS6EHO-iBen4a_S/s200/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190916325622303458" /></div><div><br /></div><div>~Status: This one's a doozy. I really got ambitious on this one. I envision a future in which I have done everything in my power to alleviate any and all peoples from as much pain as it is in my power to do. If I can, then I should.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I'm really fuckin' tired; I'm going to sleep. Seriously, please leave comments, I'm curious to see how people respond to these last two posts. Any and all feedback and/or criticism is welcomed and appreciated.</div><div><br /></div><div>Peace & Love,</div><div><br /></div><div>~The Mick</div><div><br /></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-78389121567177766722008-04-19T04:41:00.002-04:002008-04-19T06:42:38.436-04:00Childhood DreamsIt's 5:32 AM, and I'm wide awake and feel inexplicably alive. I'm in one of those places mentally where you just feel like you're on top of the world. I read a book today called <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Last Lecture</span>. It was written by Randy Pausch with Jeffrey Zaslow, a columnist for The Washington Post. Pausch is a computer scientist and professor who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2006 that would unfortunately spread to his liver and spleen. <div><br /></div><div>In August of 2007, he was given months to live and began palliative chemotherapy to try to ease the pain and buy him a few extra months. Anyway, Randy decided that he wouldn't just give up and so, in September, he gave a lecture at Carnegie Mellon entitled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams." He became semi-famous after giving this lecture, with an appearance on The Oprah Winfrey Show in October and an hour-long interview with Diane Sawyer that aired April 9th on ABC.</div><div><br /></div><div>For Randy, he points all of his success to his upbringing and credits his parents with allowing him to achieve his dreams. He likes cliches and quotes from other people, because they are full of wisdom and when you say things that smart people say, it's easy to look smart yourself; so, as Randy says, "We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand." I, too, love cliches and really appreciate the fact that my parents impart their wisdom on to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, here's my brief (pshh, yeah right, am I ever brief when I become impassioned?) summary of how I came to be reading the book today and subsequently writing this entry. My mom likes to send me chain e-mails with "uplifting" messages. Most of the time, they are written by middle-aged white women who, no offense, don't know shit and need to rely on recycled spiritual garbage to stay positive about their mediocre upper middle class existence. You know, the Oprah crowd. Anyway, sometimes mi madre can be one of them and she sent me a clip from Oprah that showed Randy reprising his "Last Lecture." Long story short, I'm a loser, and I was inspired by what he had to say.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward a few days. I feel inspired once again, but in a different sense. I just saw economist Jeffrey Sachs give a speech to some students about the economic health of this country and the things that can be done in order to end poverty. He has a new book, too, called <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Common Wealth. </span>So after dinner, I decided to take a stroll over to the Barnes & Noble in Kenmore Square to pick it up. As I'm browsing through the shelves (one of my favorite pastimes), I stumble upon a copy of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Last Lecture </span>and decide to buy it as a gift for my mother. To pay for my purchases that day, I whipped out my trusty B&N gift card, which I received when returning a textbook my father paid for and by using his membership card for 10% off. Thanks Mom and Dad, always there to help even when you are not really there.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I was having a good day today, the weather was beautiful, why not take a few minutes to glance through a few pages, see if it's any good? Two hours and 206 pages later, here I am, with a newfound sense of hope. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that my grandmother passed away three years ago after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. If you want to make a donation or find out more about the disease, check out these charitable websites: <a href="http://www.pancan.org/">The Pancreatic Cancer Action Network</a>, and <a href="http://www.lustgarten.org/">The Lustgarten Foundation for Pancreatic Cancer Research</a> because c'mon, seriously, who doesn't wanna help cure cancer?<div><br /></div><div>Okay, so, wow, I've been rambling. Anyway, if you wanna read an excerpt from the book or see the reprisal of the lecture on Oprah, check them out below. And be sure to read my list of childhood dreams up above and leave a comment on your childhood dreams.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:9px;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 9px; white-space: pre-wrap; "><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" width="151" height="220" id="LL" align="middle"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://hyperionbooks.com/widget/swf/widget_LL.swf"><param name="quality" value="high"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://hyperionbooks.com/widget/swf/widget_LL.swf" wmode="transparent" quality="high" width="151" height="220" name="LL" align="middle" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed></object> </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 48px; white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 9px; "> </span><embed id="VideoPlayback" style="width:400px;height:326px" flashvars="" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=8577255250907450469&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed> </span><br /></div></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-72888285050105118482008-04-16T15:13:00.004-04:002008-04-16T15:43:26.278-04:00New Link Posted; Je ne sais quoi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1KL_W8gZX_6ita0sGN6WZBSBQN4UFMoBMkuYUz3qefzFtNXVemvQUaQSCrui2E4Ibom1jyHlVfTrtuaGu_wREeU6201uiNRZg5gGlerrYqJi80vxX97ZyA-BtbCITcZbJXvQigJZhWvt/s1600-h/n1488390013_30067151_9199.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1KL_W8gZX_6ita0sGN6WZBSBQN4UFMoBMkuYUz3qefzFtNXVemvQUaQSCrui2E4Ibom1jyHlVfTrtuaGu_wREeU6201uiNRZg5gGlerrYqJi80vxX97ZyA-BtbCITcZbJXvQigJZhWvt/s200/n1488390013_30067151_9199.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189926778425574354" /></a>Hey guys,<div><br /></div><div>My friend Jill (who can apparently look sexy and creepy all at the same time--see right) is going abroad to France in the spring, and we will all dearly miss her. Anyway, she will be chronicling her zany adventures commencing in September of this year. She speaks French and has recently come to the conclusion that all of the electronics in her life have decided to revolt against her, for serious.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wicked sweet!</div><div><br /></div><div>What's the equivalent of Spanglish when combining the French and English languages? Frenglish, perhaps. Anyway, I assume that her entries will be written in Frenglish. As always, ridiculousness prevails.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good luck, Jill!</div><div><br /></div><div>With nothing but love and support,</div><div><br /></div><div>~Your friend Michel (Je parle Francais?)</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. See you in a few weeks at the GSU Tech Rock Band Party!! Augh Yeeaah!!!!!!</div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-32321811573823152872008-04-14T02:16:00.009-04:002008-04-14T02:58:33.040-04:00Freedom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwwq-zb7dj7jZoPQ3sRRa61m8tfSVGb59hlF0JORYF4t8Vu4ViEf3QxSg2jXr79kF9IxyQz7Ev1xcqA84iBHypUboX40ftxR3HuPrj3hQsCWYPUly4vvEj8Rit2HFsy_VGWcwlarNUaS7/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwwq-zb7dj7jZoPQ3sRRa61m8tfSVGb59hlF0JORYF4t8Vu4ViEf3QxSg2jXr79kF9IxyQz7Ev1xcqA84iBHypUboX40ftxR3HuPrj3hQsCWYPUly4vvEj8Rit2HFsy_VGWcwlarNUaS7/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188989655216292802" /></a>So, in case you hadn't noticed, my previous post was an exercise in free speech and I suppose also freedom of the press--which, for the uneducated or unappreciative, gives me the right to employ the use of any words that I desire in order to express myself. This right is monumentally important in understanding why America is such a great country to live in as well as something that we as Americans tend to take for granted--especially in times like these when we feel oppressed by our government (and rightly so) when we should be looking towards the future with hope for change.<div><br /></div><div>It's why I am able to verbally litter all over the internet despite the fact that what I have to say may not be important to anybody but me. But I am allowed to say it, for whatever reason, even with malicious intent in my heart if I so choose. Unfortunately, I oft times choose to express myself with a cynical view of the world. Over the last few days, however, I've been in a much more positive place, and I now strive to embrace the rights given to me by our forefathers and potentially give thanks for the protection I am granted by the government (when they want to--that was a joke, people, loosen up; I can still make them). </div><div><br /></div><div>I believe in an America where our children can grow up without fear, an America where people of all different ethnic backgrounds</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4RA5s1ymNJ9kRfL9NMiRuj4W6VOhmB_Bp62j54VhPtlKZDu8bxkSHL5xsMnGMF9nQ4ueHXJHOCF0fkCmsFYaasW9jcaUIC8ilLbijo4DY8HUtco7bYgwoZkaNSmAAMeM2DFGKE9Hx_zi/s200/iStock_000000420932Small-705064.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188989238604465074" /><div>and heritages can live together in harmony, and an America in which I can express myself freely, profess faith to whichever god I choose, or even no god at all, an America where I have the right to my privacy, an America in which I am given the opportunity to live freely in the pursuit of happiness for both my family and myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Never give up on America. We are more than a country. We are a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness. We are built around ideas and the free expression of those ideas, whether someone else likes it or not. We are leaders for the world over. And now more than ever, it is crucial that we display our values. The world's getting smaller and that means that our generation is presented with the unique opportunity to help save it. Everyone's watching, let's try not to fuck this one up.</div><div><br /></div><div>~Michael Carlos</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. You see how I slipped the expletive in there at the end. Yep, I still got it. </div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-38725305954860313122008-04-12T13:55:00.004-04:002008-04-12T14:42:19.225-04:00Fucking Retards!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMM_e6psF2K3w2mkSxX90XRxQVr3xtk500hfbnEttvQQQke9f9bnN9Q4YucYHf_lyTKHkL5VjUryXTcSwnw03nHBJNnWqdFMIv85NikrO-RbOdaqXrlTR0TilCqqfAYVpG5toHd9_tRNO/s1600-h/Bill_Gates.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMM_e6psF2K3w2mkSxX90XRxQVr3xtk500hfbnEttvQQQke9f9bnN9Q4YucYHf_lyTKHkL5VjUryXTcSwnw03nHBJNnWqdFMIv85NikrO-RbOdaqXrlTR0TilCqqfAYVpG5toHd9_tRNO/s200/Bill_Gates.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188431001386568450" /></a>Bill Gates is not giving away his fucking fortune you mindless fucking idiots. Why would he pay everyone thousands of dollars to send out an e-mail when everyday billions of e-mails are sent anyway? Out of the kindness of his heart, he just wanted to repay all of the fat lazy Americans<br />who made him rich in the first place. NOT!!<div><br /></div><div>Okay, now, if you get an e-mail telling you this, and you send it on to people, then you are only furthering the perpetration of fraud against the general public. I don't really give a shit if you do that because the general public is amassed of other mindless fucking idiots like yourselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>This bullshit chain letter has been circulating on the internet for over four years now. But here's the kicker: at current count 97,397 people are in a group on facebook dedicated to this. First of all, even if you were dumb enough to believe the story, how does joining a group on facebook make you any money? And don't say you joined it because you thought it was funny, you know that deep in your heart you actually sort of believed it, you greedy fucking bastards.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the world's gonna fucking end, we're all gonna fucking die, and it's all your fucking fault.</div><div>Thanks again.</div><div><br /></div><div>See you in Hell,</div><div><br /></div><div>~Michael Fucking Carlos </div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-90808222329723362862008-04-05T14:49:00.005-04:002008-04-05T15:07:55.446-04:00New Link Posted; Check This Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZzTvmIaJDR-8T2gaM4Qav8Y4iWdOSKAjOf0YFFrLk7tbBbAoILeJTOzxCDFkBQadCHuCNS27pCFrxxC4RDcPv9vl84YgSmHKoY8sJK5rduuZnXcJxGLXuLm9ZkPuqZhvYFMbmRGYeZVu/s1600-h/n1377300273_30243390_116.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRZzTvmIaJDR-8T2gaM4Qav8Y4iWdOSKAjOf0YFFrLk7tbBbAoILeJTOzxCDFkBQadCHuCNS27pCFrxxC4RDcPv9vl84YgSmHKoY8sJK5rduuZnXcJxGLXuLm9ZkPuqZhvYFMbmRGYeZVu/s200/n1377300273_30243390_116.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185837102592470722" /></a>So, a friend of mine from high school is not quite as lazy as I am and began writing a daily rant on facebook. His rants are hysterical. He has now decided to post them as a blog on this website. So for anybody who visits my blog and is bored because I never update it, check his out. Be careful, though, because he might take a picture of you in the mirror.<div><div><br /></div><div>You can find the link to his blog, Jacques Daily Rant, on the right hand side of the page under the title (duh?!) 'Links'.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cool. I'm done. More later...</div></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6447874083724004269.post-63701872469458962352008-03-31T09:43:00.008-04:002008-03-31T10:41:11.425-04:00RANT!!!!!!!!!! part deux<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYeHiodk2JuOHzZSOE8wP-Z5UpW8-ofRO8kxKJCF16pTo5bKHQG0Fl-32IYcb6TFBigrNkEJNZBhjZJUTwiwK8Cb5nht_mo3W7c5HgPNCvPwJkQ1L4pqXkuDVpDtOZqtfxMgb5w_3vGWa/s1600-h/Taco+Bell+.gif"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYeHiodk2JuOHzZSOE8wP-Z5UpW8-ofRO8kxKJCF16pTo5bKHQG0Fl-32IYcb6TFBigrNkEJNZBhjZJUTwiwK8Cb5nht_mo3W7c5HgPNCvPwJkQ1L4pqXkuDVpDtOZqtfxMgb5w_3vGWa/s200/Taco+Bell+.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183915126202347154" /></a>"RANT!!!!!!!!!!!!" was one of my best pieces, and it has now come to my attention that the world is completely fucked up. Therefore, I shall rant again.<div><br /></div><div>Today, Monday, March 31st -- 6 a.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I'm leisurely strolling down Comm. Ave. on my way to my weekly radio program on WTBU (SIQ Mondays from 6-8. Wake up with morning SIQness!!!). I glance across the street and what do my eyes fall upon? The majestic prestige of the Warren Towers Taco Bell. Sadly, I cannot stop in later today and enjoy a deliciously unauthentic Mexican feast. Instead, I must toil in my own gloom until I find a new place to satisfy my hunger for familiar, unhealthy foods at a ridiculously low price. Why, do you ask, must I be tortured by this painful separation from the one I love?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZq6__HK6TIfe_aaLojwrILW4YH0HUwtvrtG2fcfdbbi9Hk4ghyphenhyphenF9YFEgAXSMzodL0uJLlscUWPgVgHUuVazBOWwbL82q8jmOWeT2cGFQvkiplJJZP_vpFhiBBox9Nls8fkTBiIUykidCe/s1600-h/Evil__Starbucks_by_Amaya_12.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZq6__HK6TIfe_aaLojwrILW4YH0HUwtvrtG2fcfdbbi9Hk4ghyphenhyphenF9YFEgAXSMzodL0uJLlscUWPgVgHUuVazBOWwbL82q8jmOWeT2cGFQvkiplJJZP_vpFhiBBox9Nls8fkTBiIUykidCe/s200/Evil__Starbucks_by_Amaya_12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183913451165101650" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div>Well, according to rumors posted on facebook (the most reliable source of info on the web), this particular restaurant happens to be closing in favor of the soul-ravaging coffee chain, Starbucks (Dun, dun, DUNNNNN!!!!!!). My speculation is that Boston University is getting rid of Taco Bell's cheap, fattening eats in favor of promoting healthy eating options around campus. In recent years, a Burger King that used to grace the sidewalks of Comm. Ave. was also shut down by the University (also according to as-of-yet unsubstantiated rumors). </div><div><br /></div><div>I, for one, am outraged. Who does Boston University think it is? Forcing its students to be torn from that which satisfies their late night cravings and left with no other option but to shell out valuable dining points on crappy Late Nite in the dining halls. And another Starbucks?! Seriously? That makes five consecutive T stops on the green line where there will be a Starbucks available. Their coffee isn't even that good; I'd much rather enjoy a hot cup of joe from City Convenience, 7-Eleven, or Dunkin' Donuts. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRajvK9eaoglPkekNvgCSH0kqkBz0TPiZ1qI3qh3XJ3D0Vrv5WVUyrBGS3Via7Dg-Q0ZBKq9dR_Nfli_2sz-sKS1Y3q-mFOiAMf6-fpvzaHBJydpCvTNnVucFUz2rOfwGXiYOozJjVT39e/s1600-h/starbucks_fuck_off.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRajvK9eaoglPkekNvgCSH0kqkBz0TPiZ1qI3qh3XJ3D0Vrv5WVUyrBGS3Via7Dg-Q0ZBKq9dR_Nfli_2sz-sKS1Y3q-mFOiAMf6-fpvzaHBJydpCvTNnVucFUz2rOfwGXiYOozJjVT39e/s200/starbucks_fuck_off.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183914069640392290" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div>I'm calling 'bullshit' and I urge you all to join me in my unrest at this travesty of an injustice. Something has to be done. There's already a facebook group and possibly, a petition, I'm not sure, but something greater must be done. It may be too late for Taco Bell, but we can take a stand and boycott Starbucks until the University is forced to bring in some other form of cheap eats available late at night (and dining halls and the GSU don't count).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I kept walking down Comm. Ave. after my show had ended, and I was offered a free Monster Energy drink. Sweet, I AM tired, and I DID only get four hours of sleep. As I arrive to work, I crack that muthafucker open and chug. DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!! For those of you who don't know, the ingredients to Monster are as follows:</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyW7maRXlw6u3wtxjbfhj0BngxHbGItC1mdcxZYM4AfLbM4XfFByOTxHFuzpHD-yn9UD1Ps1lWtGAS7ormWy3CKCcmDxKq3NEnmP0jkBqlH-A0ZNwy6pGCVCXDCN7Az6VqkYWddv8t-aw/s1600-h/sex_drink6.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyW7maRXlw6u3wtxjbfhj0BngxHbGItC1mdcxZYM4AfLbM4XfFByOTxHFuzpHD-yn9UD1Ps1lWtGAS7ormWy3CKCcmDxKq3NEnmP0jkBqlH-A0ZNwy6pGCVCXDCN7Az6VqkYWddv8t-aw/s320/sex_drink6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183914748245225090" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; " /></a><div>~Taurine<br /></div><div>~Ginseng</div><div>~B Vitamins</div><div>~L-Carnitine</div><div>~Robitussin</div><div>~Pop Rocks, and</div><div>~Crack Cocaine</div><div>There are two servings per container and 7400 mg of their energy blend which includes all of the above, plus glucose, caffeine, guarana, inositol, glucuronolactone, and maltodextrin. Therefore, I am high as a fuckin' kite right now. Hope my heart doesn't burst. But, I kid.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I hope everyone has an enjoyable day and does not-- I repeat, does not-- go to Starbucks. It is the coffee of the devil. Drink coffee from CityCo, the nectar of the gods. By the way, I know BU has a vested interest in CityCo as well, I just don't care. It tastes good, the people don't bother me, and it's cheap. Fuck you, naysayers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Keep on livin' the dream, loyal readers,</div><div><br /></div><div>Sincerely yours,</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">~Michael J. Carlos, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Rantier</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Extraordinaire</span></div>mcarlos89http://www.blogger.com/profile/12561089953640235275noreply@blogger.com1