Congratulations to Blahblah Puchalas for earning his Masters in Engineering from one the most preeminent engineering schools on the planet, the University of Michigan. And further congratulations to Brian for not employing pleo's nast as the forum by which he might venerate his personal accomplishment.

We're missing you Angelina.

So. It's time to roadtrip.

Tomorrow night
Noah


Binh



and myself
will be heading into Nashville for a fun-filled week of actin' a donkey, gettin hyphy, being lil dirts, showin' our thizz faces, and going DUMB DUMB DUMB DUMB.



This will be the first time I've seen Stacy since she did
THIS
to my beloved Timmyskims! Yes, friends, those are rocks UNDERNEATH the fiberglass and IMBEDDED in the foam. Greg, the husband of my coworker Jessi, the dude who fixed my board said that in all of his 30 years of board repair he'd never seen damage quite like this. Just look how sad it made me.
To her credit, Stacy was likewise distraught, and soon thereafter rewarded me with a shiny 150 dollar bill. What she doesn't know, is that it only cost 30 dollars worth of materials to repair the board. And that, compounded with the 50 dollar meal I provided Greg with, means that I only spent 80 of that 150 dollars. So I basically jacked 70 dollars from Stacy . Luckily, she doesn't read my blogular, so there's no risk of her ever finding out. I can trust all of you to keep this between us, right?

Since the last time I saw many of you, I have gained many nicknames. As many of you are aware, during high school Seth was engendered in the internet form as SethroTull. Which last year, as a result of the inability of the audio chat function on Binh's Powerbook to correctly pronounce my screen name, became SethroChull. Which, during his first trip to California, Willy Chill altered to SethroChoal, or just Choal to my closest friends and family. But, in the past months, it took on its most hideous form when Noah's friend Mark in essence told me to "shut up" when he uttered the now infamous "Guess what, TROLL?". Disgusting.


After much thought and consideration, my "Black Man of 2005" would most definitely have to be Common.
With a strong, strong second place finish by Kele of Bloc Party.
D. Donkey Pimpson came in a surprising third. For that, I'm hitting him with a towel in the rump this weekend

And my "Two Favorite Albums Discovered in 2006 That Were Actually Recorded in 2002" are definitely Logic Will Break Your Heart by The Stills and Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star. Don't Hate. Listen.

The title of this entry was taken from an article in the February issue of Filter about Conor Oberst and his incessant traveling, and is actually a quotation of John Steinbeck. I looove me some Steinbeck. And I loooove me some Filter. If you have the means, I highly suggest picking one up. Not Spin. Not Blender. Not Rolling Stone. Filter. Good Music Will Prevail.

Finally, by far the most beloved gift I received for Christmas was this picture of 4-month-old Diego Mazantini.
I can be seen proudly sporting it in the image below.
Diego is the son of a childhood friend of mine, Summer (Hilburn) Mazantini. About a year ago I saw this incredible photo of him displayed on the fridge of my lifelong, beautiful pseudo-Aunt Cindy, Diego's great-aunt. After a month or so, I mustered up the courage to ask for my own copy of the pic. Cindy made efforts to acquire one for me, but Diego and his family live several hours away in Bakersfield, so that made things difficult. Eventually, the transaction was scheduled. For Thanksgiving. But Diego's Grandma Judy forgot the pic. I was heartbroken, but tried not to show it. Then, wouldn't you know it, Ol' St. Nick made this boy's day and brought him just what he asked for.

C'mon friends. Check out that HAIR!! Stands straight up on its own, all Elvis-like. And he was born with ALL OF IT. I remind you, this is his 4-month picture. And if you look closely, I'm quite certain that he's sporting Zoolander face.

I know that Diego, at the age of four months, has achieved a level of coolness that I will never attain. Some might find this embarrassing. I find it inspiring.

I just saw Dave Chappelle's Block Party and it was soooooo sweeeet.

On the way home we stopped by Jack in the Box. I'm quite certain that when conversing with me the drive-thru operator, a handsome Latino lad, said the following:

"Your total is $11.49, nigga."

Habits and whatnot:

1) When I am not eating fish tacos, I am thinking about them. Or telling others about them.

Have I considered naming my first born son "Fish Taco?" Yes, yes indeed i have.

2) I have to be up as high as I can be. On top of hills, on second floor balconies, top bunks, etc. For instance, back in my dorm at Cal, I would enter my buddy Trung's room and immediately climb up on his bedpost. From that vantage point (one foot barely balanced on the post whilst its accomplice swung free, with my hand gripping the ceiling rafters to secure my position) I would conversate with my friends while simultaneously keeping them safe Batman-watching-Gotham-from-a-gargoyle style.

3) I love socially conscious hip-hop, and often attempt to teach life lessons by means of its lyrics.

4) I am allergic to shirts. Whenever I have the opportunity to free myself of their chains, I make haste to do so. Is it 36 degrees outside? Yes. Is the sliding glass door open? Yup. Am I wearing a shirt? I think you know the answer.

Chances are if you've ever invited me over to your place, the second you stepped out to use the lavatory, my shirt was off. And most likely, I was looking at my belly button.

5) I am quite certain that I possess two mutant powers. One of which is my ability to fall asleep at any place, any time within 3 minutes. During the 15 minute breaks I get at work, I'll go into a back room and climb onto a table that is much shorter than myself. Leaving my lower legs and heavy work boots to hang off in a painful manner. Furthermore, I am not familiar with the recent invention referred to as "the pillow." And it can't be more than 60 degrees in the room of which I speak. Obviously, not the best sleeping situation. Yet, if I'm not able to get a quality 12 minute nap in, I'm upset. Part B of this mutant (and by the way, I would be much appreciative if your inner monologue would pronounce mutant as "mew-TANT," like famed iglesio de Cristo restorationist J.D. Tant) power is the fact that I wake up at the 15-minute-mark on-the-dot every-single-time. For-reals.


6) I have a habit of never ever falling asleep during class. Nobody puts baby in a corner. And nobody but NOBODY hears the secrets that I keep when I'm talkin in my sleep.

7) In the ninth grade, I developed a strange habit of rubbing my chin against my inner right shoulder whenever I grew nervous. I have a distinct memory of being called to the front of my history class to receive some sort of academic award. My crush at the time was in that class. She made me nervous. So naturally, I had to scratch my chin against my shoulder. In front of my own personal Helen of Troy as well as the remainder of the Nicean barks of yore in attendance. My, how they all must have cringed, knowing that a gangly, mentally-challenged boy had defeated them in the realm of academia.

8) This last one I wasn't aware of until just recently. Buuut, during my last visit to the clinic the doctor doctor gave me the news. Evidently, I have a bad case of loving you.


This list could have been more appropriately titled Things I Do To Annoy People