Ian put a smackdown on Chris and me but Renee then won a two-hand showdown to claim the win, knocking Jamie into last place in the PCS standings. Before Ian's havoc-wreaking we played a couple games of Euchre and watched the Cubs win. Go Cubs.
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I haven't updated in a while so I thought I would start with something good: a lyrics contest. I took some very mainstream songs and translated them in honor of my nearly complete thesis. First I took the first verse and translated it into French. I then took the French and translated into German before taking the German back to English. Can you figure out what these songs are? Below the lyrics is a form for you to answer. The winner can write a guest entry! Today's image is a hint for Song #1 in case you're not a big Hendrix fan. NOTE: once you submit you'll just get redirected back to this page. Rest assured your form has been successfully submitted.
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NOTE: submissions are due by midnight for the Decipher The Lyrics Quiz.For the 4th we went over to Chris' house for some grilling and poker. We also managed to work in a lengthy game of Apples to Apples (Jamie won). Chris and I went in the backyard to throw the football around and were taunted by an upstairs apartment full of nine year olds who insisted we were "gaywads". I'm not sure when I last year that word but I think it was probably elementary school. They seemed to give up once we admitted yes, we were in fact gay lovers. They also reminded me that I have a difficult time catching a football.
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I came across my old version of TurboTax from 2005. Man, I used to make a lot of money when I was working for Crazy Man. I've always been lucky with my taxes as until I got to graduate school my dad would do them for me. Unfortunately when I got to FSU I had to start doing my own taxes, which included shelling out a hundred bucks or so each year for Turbotax. This year though I found a turbotax promotion code and was able to get the Florida version for free. Score!
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All hail Kathy and Anna, co-winners of the 2007 Lyrics Deciphering Championship. The answers were:
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On Friday Jamie and I took the back, and I mean BACK road of Georgia to visit the Pharaoh of Cairo (if they don't rhyme, as I learned, you're not pronouncing it correctly) and his birthday-having son. Because we took the most ridiculous route to Cairo we were the last arrive to the pool party. Chris came out to meet us and we forked over our gift-wine. Once inside we met up with Elena (who has suddenly turned very photogenic), Tim, and Trey. After indulging in some catered food and quite possibly the most delicious cake known to man we settled in for some poker (of course). Chris attended to his family but the rest of crammed into the dining room for some action. The game essentially came down to Tim vs. Elena and because it was time to leave Elena whomped Tim in a one-hand showdown. Poor Tim. Anyway, it was really great to see them again; hard to believe it's been a year.
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Even though Chris' party was on Friday, his birthday was in fact on Saturday. Happy Birthday! I've been working on a new, top-secret website that I'm hoping to have done in a week or so. I slept in until about 3pm so I didn't really do much else except watch reruns of Man vs. Wild. That show is really addictive. You know he's going to get out ok since he's obviously narrating (and has a film crew to save him just in case) but he seems willing to be dropped anywhere in order to escape. Next Friday he's getting dropped somewhere in the Amazon so that'll be cool.
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Look at my big-mouthed dog. Her mouths are so enormis.
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With the All-Star game on Tuesday I had no baseball to watch except the Home Run Derby. It's cool to see all of the homeruns at first but the novelty kind of wears off by hour three. I'm not sure why it needs to be so long. Before the game the Counting Crows put up a really lackluster performance. By far the worst part of the game is listening to announcer Chris Berman, possibly the third most annoying sports announcing personality after the two White Sox announcers. Actually Chris Berman might actually be second after Hawk Harrelson. Darrin Jackson, while annoying, at least is capable of sitting quietly sometimes.
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Here are Kathy's 12 of 12. Let's get right to it!











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Didn't Primus write a song about me? Oh, that was John. I went fishing for the first real time in my life at Jamie's brother-in-law's family's house down in Alligator Point. We spent the morning on a boat and I learned how to cast. I only hooked an on-board chair once so that was pretty good. The gas station where I was supposed to buy bait was out of shrimp so we went out with lures instead. I can only liken this to someone trying to catch me by running around with a fork. What incentive do I have to bite onto a fork? It was fun boating around but we ended up going back to the dock where I was introduced to chopping up bait. I managed to not barf while cutting up fish (barely) and after a few more hours I landed my first fish--a baby black-tip reef shark. Cool. By the time we finished cutting the hook out and taking a couple rolls of film to document my manliness he might have been close to dead but he managed to swim away just fine, no worse for the wear. Aside from being a little sunburned it was a lot of fun. And I'm now a man. So that's cool.
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Stop the presses. I can't walk. Seriously, the sunburn on my feet is so bad that I've been crawling around instead of even attempting to walk upright. Yesterday morning, of course, I have to take the dog to the vet for her yearly check-up. After crawling down the stairs I let her out and by the time she was ready to come in, I was safely standing, braced against the mini-island I use to hold the two plants Marty gave me (Jamie actually, but she ended up not wanting them). I struggle to let the dog back in and when she trots in, she puts all 54lbs of her stegosaurus-like weight right down in the middle of my foot. I'm not sure how loudly I screamed but I think it woke the dead. Had she not run away like the wind, I probably would have killed her right then and there.
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It's been a while since I wrote about my beloved Cubs. They've traded for yet another catcher, Jason Kendall, who is pretty terrible. I'm not sure why they don't just keep with Hill or Soto. Yeah, they might suck but at least you didn't have to pay more for them. If only Barrett had worked out. Alas. The Cubs are soundly in second place and are closing in quickly on the Brewers. How weird is it to type "closing in quickly on the Brewers". I might have said it in the past but I probably meant, you know, chasing them for fourth place.
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A while back I was searching license plates for the girl across the street who hit Jamie in her crappy 1980's Honda Accord. I used this particular license plate search and after paying a couple bucks learned that the chick had been in prison. Maybe I won't try to fight her afterall. Thank goodness I looked up her license plates.
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After a week of being in bed, Jamie convinced me to play poker. Good thing she did or I would be $20 poorer. For consecutive weeks, Ian amassed a ton of chips only to fall to, as it is known in most circles, the triumphant force (also known as my skillful poker playing). After totally sucking for a month and a half I realized the key to winning is to avoid hands with Renee as much as possible. The only times it ever seems to work out is when we both check through the river. If there's any betting involved, it's almost a guaranteed loss for me. Anyway, here are your stats. Notice particularly how close #2 and #3 are.
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I'll say it. I hope Michael Vick is electrocuted. I'm not sure if that's a slow enough death for him but I (and I suspect many others) would take it. While searching for a good picture to use in today's graphic I came across the picture of a post-fight dog (search Google Images for "Michael Vick") and I very nearly threw up on my desk. Even now, a good twenty minutes later I'm still right on the verge of honking all over the place. God I hope this guy dies. Even if I didn't own an adopted, abused pit bull I'd still want him to die. You're a piece of shit, Michael Vick, and if someone murders you I'll max out my credit cards throwing the biggest party I possibly can. Really, your whole family is pretty worthless and if you and your brother died the world would be a better place. Man, I hope someone kills you, you piece of shit.
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If you're hankering for some dry, chewy meat in between foot-long sections of fat, we've got the place for you: The Miller Ale House. Last night Jamie and I went there for dinner and it was absolutely disgusting. Seriously, you might think you've eaten at the worst places in town but until you've been to the Miller Ale House, you've been eating heaven on kaiser rolls.
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Last night Jamie convinced me to stop watching my beloved Cubs and go see Sicko with her. I have always appreciated Michael Moore's "little guy" attitude but I've never really cared for how preachy his movies are. His movies always seemed to tell you, "Gee, the government should stop thinking for me" but he spun things so hard that I always figured he was just as guilty with his manipulation of facts.
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