March 2004 Archives

Been awake since yesterday, trying to remedy my horrible schedule... no more sleeping all day long. Change is scary though. What effects will daylight have on my writing?

Long ago, when I would show pages of my novel to Natasha I came upon the realization that what I was writing will only be truly appreciated by teenage girls, sensitive boys and the young at heart. Granted, that's true of all sorts of books... but mine also had the power to make girls giddy. Natasha was proof of this. Even Meagan was proof of this.

Not wanting to call the book an outright Young Adult novel, I created my own genre... Emo-Lit. Am I proud of that genre title? Eh.

But it fits.

Last night's writing burst with the emo of a thousand Dashboard Confessional songs... I actually still like Dashboard Confessional and so this is not a slam at myself, it may just be a compliment.

Also last night...

The title was actually written into the text.

I wrote a sentence that was 70 words long.

I did not finish out the chapter as planned. (tomorrow!)

Today we got our Roly Poly. Today we got our Roly Poly.

Snow Patrol. Go buy Snow Patrol's new CD.

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I'm about a third of the way through what is turning out to be a very good book on writing titled Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott.

I am clearly not the first person to have found her wisdom inspiring. It's clear as day in pencil marks throughout the entire fucking book. Brackets around interesting passages. Underlined sentences. Words in the margin. Entire notes on the page above. How could an aspiring writer--so inspired--pull a pencil out of his pocket and deface a library book? Who carries a pencil, but nothing to write ON? When you have a pencil, you have it for a purpose... you have your pencil sharpener... you should have your notebook as well. Who writes notes in pencil, but doesn't at least try and erase them before returning the book? Surely they could have at least made an attempt at that.

Then of course, are the sentences underlined in pen. They alternate with the ones in pencil, suggesting multiple underlining sessions.

Then, there are the few notes that HAVE been erased. This shows admittance of guilt, but also laziness, because of the hundred or so pages that are still marked up. Or maybe they were erased for fear of plagiarism? "This note is genius! I don't want any future readers of this library book to rip me off! I'll erase it from here and write it in this here other library book that has nothing to do with writing, where other writers won't see it and rip me off, but where I can still get to it."

Also, you'll see that I took that picture with the chunk of pages falling out for maximum comedy.

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Don't you just hate when you open a library book and the first thirty pages fall nearly completely out of the book in a neat, disconnected chunk?

They'll surely think I did this.

Don't you hate shit's creek, and finding yourself up it?

I am paddle free.

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Earlier today my mom told me that a relative of a relative died and then she asked me if I wanted to get my hair colored again next week.

I said, "yeah."

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Did a new mix of Ryan's last song Need You and have updated the MP3 accordingly.

You might not notice that it is a new mix... but oh it is.

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There's a book out that lists America's top 400 cities, decided by a whole slew of factors... education, pollution, taxes, culture and what not.

Norwalk came in at #30.

New York City was #40.

Charlottesville, VA was the #1.

None of the top fifty were in Central Florida... you have to buy the book to see all 400.

Well I live in the 30th best city in America y'all. Apparently they didn't factor in the population of girls within Christian Stella's age range when they crunched the numbers. That would have dropped us down the list considerably I'm certain, because sure we should care about pollution... but what good is breathing when I haven't seen a damn girl I'm attracted to in two weeks?

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I decided that I can't keep this quota thing up seven days a week... I need one or two days off a week. Days where I can refuel... otherwise the quality of writing will suffer. I can't sit down and think about the novel in long term if I'm freaking out over what I'm writing TONIGHT.

That said, today was no day off... I got my words. 490 anyway... good enough. I'll get 510 tomorrow. I'm thinking I'll try to finish out this whole chapter tomorrow actually and then I'm taking at least a day off... I'll need it.

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Today we left the house for rolled sandwiches.

It's bad enough that Roly Poly: Rolled Sandwiches closes at 5pm, making it nearly impossible for someone like myself, who hasn't even started in on his 500 words of the day at 6:30 am to get to while open, but then today... today we're there.

We're there and it's 3:50 in the afternoon. It's 3:50 in the afternoon and the guy is putting all the chairs up, rolling the rugs instead of goddam sandwiches for us to eat. Closing up shop a full hour and ten minutes early!

I hate people that break their own rules. Fucking liars.

Fucking ate spicy mustard covered subs at some other sandwich place where the mustard is stupid and fucking spicy and the sandwiches aren't rolled whatsoever, just rolled in spicy fucking mustard.

At the library, we discover the video dungeon. I refer to it as a dungeon because of it's basement location and I refer to it as a discovery because of it's vast selection. We're talking Blockbuster New Release Wall shit here. We're talking all movies, regardless of content. They had the Mr. Show movie for Christ's sake. In the library. Libraries are free, by the way. And they allow six videos out at a time. A new release at Blockbuster is $5 up here. And also, a new release at our Blockbuster is completely rented out, as long as it's one of any you are specifically looking for.

We checked out a documentary on Kurt Cobain that was awful and full of absurd interviews to the point that I am now convinced it was actually a neglected Christopher Guest mockumentary.

The librarian who checked it out put my gigantic stack of books in a bag for me and said that Kurt Cobain had some really deep lyrics. She was old enough to be my mother but she was really cool.

And I made cookies again. I need it to be said on here... I made cookies again.

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Just finished tonight's words. It's eight in the morning. A new chapter. This and the next one are really tough. How dramatic is dramatic enough? I'm scared to death of melodrama, but I don't want to underdo things like a big coward. Look at me! I'm a big coward that doesn't have the balls to write a chapter where a boy tells a crying girl that she's beautiful.

Well I do and did, but it wasn't easy and it's far from over.

Good news is that I also mapped this and the next chapter out... after that the chapter system disappears entirely, the format of the book changes and I've officially reached the meat of it... the fifty pages I have now... buildup.

Buildup is precisely paced, planned and intentioned.

The meat is a bit more random. More fun to write. More surprises. More gratifying. The bulk of the book.

Then of course... after that is the ending... insanely planned and insanely perfect or the whole book is a rock.

Last book I read turned into a rock at the end. I said, "What is this? I thought it was a book, but nope. Well it's heavy and useless. It must be a rock. That's what it is." And then I threw it in the dirt where it belongs.

I need some sleep.

These nights can't possibly get any later, and yet I want to add a second 500 word quota for my diet book?! I'm crazy.

But things will be running smoother soon. I really hope so.

Either way, the words are good. I think so anyway.

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Tonight Kool Aid played a "Magic Twist(s)" on me.

It sure tasted like Strawberry Kool Aid, but LOOKED like greenish pee. Whoever heard of a green-yellow strawberry drink?! Those Kool Aid people, they're so wacky!

The words are real hard tonight. Real, real hard.

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Made cookies tonight. Could have been having strange anonymous sex somewhere. I made cookies.

These cookies were very delicious. Jeremy and I ate them all.

They were made from pureed canned pears and oats. Then went in wheat flour, eggs, powdered coconut, cinnamon, cocoa powder, vanilla extract and splenda.

They did not taste like any of the ingredients that were put into them... they tasted wholly their own taste. They tasted good.

I suggest you try them. The measurements of the ingredients is not important. Just throw a bunch of that stuff into a bowl, but throw in mostly oats... and then bake... but don't bake the bowl... put them on a cookie tray first.

Also needed, baking soda and baking powder... two white substances that I have no idea the purpose of in recipes.

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Instant Message...

---Teen16: hey

---Teen16: how old r u

---Teen16: hello

QquegChristian: hello

QquegChristian: 19... and you are?

---Teen16: 20. are u into 3 somes

QquegChristian: gee... you're an interesting one

---Teen16: yah

---Teen16: just moved to stamford from florida

QquegChristian: Ahh

---Teen16: so are u into hooking up

QquegChristian: Lot of threesomes in Florida?

---Teen16: yah sometimes

QquegChristian: no... I can't say that I, myself, am into threesomes

---Teen16: r u bi

QquegChristian: nope

---Teen16: not into guys at all?

QquegChristian: nope... can't say that I am

---Teen16: that sux

---Teen16: you are hot

QquegChristian: yeah... I get a lot of bisexual threesome offers

---Teen16: really?

QquegChristian: no

---Teen16: well u wanna have some fun tonight

QquegChristian: bisexual threesome fun? because we already went over that

---Teen16: no...just with me

QquegChristian: hmm... I'm going to have to decline

---Teen16: why

QquegChristian: I'm not big into anonymous sex

---Teen16: ok

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Late night writing habits.

1. The pre-writing read. In which I read an extensive amount in whatever book I happen to be reading.

2. Gum chewing. I read somewhere that chewing gum flows more blood to your brain, allowing you to think more clearly. I chew for the entire writing session.

3. Kool-Aid in a small glass. The flavors may change but the glass stays the same. Tiny, tiny glass. This gives me time to rest my mind as I walk to the kitchen to refill it. This glass needs to be refilled at least once every 100 words. My current Kool-Aid favorite - Arctic Green Apple.

4. Printing the pages. At the end of the night, have to print the pages. It's a gratification thing. Touchable proof. Proof of progress.

Printing tonight's pages right now.

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Jersey Girl was surprisingly better than I expected. George Carlin nearly made me cry. I never thought George Carlin would ever almost make me cry in my life.

My words were harder to squeeze tonight, but I worked through it. 1070 words in two days. The novel has grown by a tenth in two days.

Real progress, folks.

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New Monument Alert!

Lincoln, Illinois wants to construct a gigantic statue of Abraham Lincoln in their town. One that would be visible from TWENTY MILES away.

Actual concept drawing, folks...

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Today is a model day. All days should go as well as today.

Woke up generally early... noon.

Spent time around town. Ate in a little cafe in SoNo. Had a banana mashed into sugar free ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery.

Learned almost nothing about the town at the Norwalk Museum.

Came back and watched a ton of television.

Played Eternal Darkness on the Gamecube... or should I say guided Jeremy in playing Eternal Darkness for hours.

Then I proved that I can spend all day dicking around and still get shit done.

I read 100 pages in the book I'm reading, pumped out over 500 words in my novel. Good words too. Words feel good. Words in my novel feel real real good.

I have a quota now. That's what brought this about. 500 words in the novel a day... from here on out.

Day 1 - SUCCESS

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I like to attribute how well off we are to our kitchen appliance purchases.

I said, "I know we'll be doing good money-wise when we've bought that super expensive red coffeemaker that grinds the beans and everything."

Then we bought it.

There was the new vaccum.

We bought the new vaccum.

Then still, there were the red mixer and the red food processor to match the red coffeemaker. Much like the coffeemaker, they are really, really expensive.

They were gifts from my father's agent, but still. Now we've collected them all. Now we must be rich people.

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Today, Jeremy gave me a one hour deadline to write a short story that takes place on a Ferris Wheel.

I did.

I did nothing else today.

149 words... this is the extent of today's productivity.

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Feeling real good today.

Just got back from Dawn of the Dead and I am not satisfied. Not satisfied at all, but still feeling good.

I wonder if any reviewer has said that Dawn's main characters are more mindless than the zombies they're running from? I'm sure they have. Someone else must have realized this.

Entertainment Weekly gave it an A.

I'll give it a C-. The C stands for... Completely pissing me off.

Here is a picture of Jeremy putting a shoe on...

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So I lost five pounds over my sickness weekend. This morning I weighed 138.

Got out of bed and dizzily made my way through ShopRite for cans of soup and frozen low calorie macaroni and cheese dinner.

Note: Lean Gourmet frozen dinners are 88 cents at Super WalMarts... but at ShopRite they'll run you $2.19.

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An open letter to my sickness:

Sickness,

I know you are dying now. I know that you will be gone by the day after tomorrow. Don't let that get you down.

If it will make you feel any better... you were one nasty motherfucker. How you kept me on the verge of vomiting and fainting at all times was truly brilliant. You'll probably win awards in Virus Hell.

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I just had to jump out of the shower because I could no longer stand up. I tried to vomit... but the only thing I've had to eat in two days is half a can of pineapples.

I looked in the mirror.

The back of my tongue is black.

It was time to go to the emergency room. Something is most certainly wrong with one of my organs... liver, pancreas, something.

I lay down for 20 minutes.

I look up "black tongue" on google. It's a side effect of Pepto Bismol. I've been taking Pepto Bismol all day. I am probably not dying. I think I'll go back to sleep now.

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Today, I am poisoned.

It's funny... as I sit on the couch, under a blanket for warmth... I see a thing on television about the "Norwalk virus." Apparently that's the name of one of the most common forms of food poisoning. It's the Norwalk virus that had all those cruise ships docked a few years ago, their thousands of passengers vomiting.

It was named after the town where the virus was first contracted... Norwalk, Ohio.

So here and now, I type and I stave off the urge to vomit an entire can of fruit cocktail onto my desk. I have a wholly new Norwalk virus. Norwalk virus II. Named after the town it was first contracted... Norwalk, Connecticut. Named by the first person to ever contract it... ME.

Norwalk virus II is a virus most likely contracted through the eating of Boston Market roast turkey... or maybe the weird tomato au graten thing that seemed relatively appetizing, but was not. Norwalk virus II may also roost in fruit juice sweetened raspberry Fig Newton-esque bars.

It's symptoms are similar to Norwalk virus I, but also include serious bouts of dizziness, confusion, chills and thoughts like, I think I have a fever. A real bad fever. I should probably take some Tylenol.

Finally, Norwalk Virus II also carries with it a minor ear infection.

She's humming like mad today, folks.

Earlier this week, I wrote off the humming ear... after all, this same humming had happened last year, and it went away. What I failed to remember was how sick I was besides the ear and how I found information online, found out it was quite common for an ear infection to accompany a fever or the other way around... I should have known this was coming.

I gave a damn ear infection to the character in my novel because of it and everything!

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Jeremy bet that he could slip his Survivor buff down across his chest like the women on the show.

He was correct.

Chiseled the car out of it's seven inch snow shell to go out for jobs.

I collected a Blockbuster and a Borders application. I doubt I'll get either of those jobs. Places like to collect applications for sport.

At the end of the year, each Blockbuster store counts up their number of received applications and the one with the most wins a pizza party. This is what I believe, anyway.

I also walked into a GNC with a hiring sign. The man behind the counter was older, and upon my request of an application he immediately asked if I was eighteen. He then fumbled around for the application before explaining that they had run out. Age discrimination. I wanted to scream "I am arguably the greatest success story in the history of low carb! I am the damn PRINCE OF LOW CARB! Do you know how many of these low carb products... the ones that have taken over your entire store... Do you know how many I can sell?!"

I am seriously considering a job at Wendy's. It's right behind my house and their sign is not trying to sell me a new variation of chicken sandwich (see below for list of new sandwich possibilities)... instead their sign reads, "Now accepting applications for PM staff." THEY ARE DESPERATE. I AM DESPERATE. We're perfect for each other. We're like chicken, bacon and ranch... the perfect new Wendy's sandwich.

Or Wendy's new Monterey Jack, Bacon Ranch Chicken Sandwich! For a limited time only!
Or Wendy's new Southwestern Bacon Ranch Chicken Sandwich! Limited time only, folks!
Or Wendy's new Spicy Ranch Chicken Club with Bacon!
Or Wendy's new Tangy Barbeque Bacon Ranch Chicken Club with Monterey Jack Cheese! Get it now, before we change the name again!

Money is money, and I'm not sure I care how I make it. No matter what I choose, working sucks. But this way, when I'm a published author, I'll get to say, "I was working at Wendy's when I wrote that book... now I'm filthy rich!" Also... I'll most certainly be the most famous person working at said Wendy's. If given guff, I can bust out with the, "I don't have to take that from you, I'm going on Oprah next week," and they'll back down. Naturally.

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When you finish one book and then immediately pick up and immerse yourself in another, you feel superhuman.

When you close and toss a thick, boring book on the invention of the microchip before you're even to chapter three, you feel even more powerful. You have cast your judgement and the book will make an early trip to the "done" pile.

That's what you get book. I just finished reading two hundred pages on butterflies and butterflies alone, yet I can't fucking stand to read another page in YOU.

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The American Dialect Association voted on the most useful new word of 2003... FLEXITARIAN.

Flexitarian is the new metrosexual.

So, what's a flexitarian?

Me, for one.

A flexitarian is someone who enjoys vegetarian friendly foods for their health benefits, but is not a vegetarian.

I've got my own new word... it's uselesswordcreatingfuckhead and it goes to whoever coined flexitarian.

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Decided it was time. Had not weighed myself since before I left for Florida.

So many meals out. Sure I try to keep them insanely healthy, but there was...

Olive Garden in Kissimmee... pasta, breadsticks and a Jesus-freak waiter.

Macaroni and Cheese with a half inch of melted butter hiding at the bottom in Santee, SC.

That corned beef sandwich and French fries in Jersey.

Bags of sugar free candy every night.

Boxes of Kashi crackers.

My milkshakes.

Stacks of PBandJ at three in the morning.

Chinese buffet.

Boston Market, Duchess, Roly Poly, Subway and Shubby's Deli... I don't ever eat at home anymore.

And I haven't been working out to counteract this shit.

I must have gained 10 pounds, easy.

So I step on the scale and I weigh the same. 143. I always weigh 143. My body and I... I think we've finally worked out a deal with each other.

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Were supposed to find jobs today...

Naturally, it snowed like hell.

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I made a list of all the projects I'd like to be actively writing... six. SIX.

My novel.
A diet book.
A movie for Queequeg, horror or otherwise.
Short fiction compilation... or "Project Ribcage" as I have dubbed it.
The comic book with Adam W.
Episodes of "Kings of the Forest" cartoon to be animated by Anthony.

As you can see... when you line up the first letters of the six items, it spells MAASTE. Just letting you know.

Sedna is stirring up the Kool-Aid now, folks. It's brought Pluto's deserved planethood back into question. There's going to be much debate over what exactly Pluto and now Sedna should be classified as.

And when it's all over... we could have TEN planets in our solar system... we could have eight.

I could need another dot on my arm.

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Found a site that can compare census statistics of two cities.

Cost of living... 100 being the national average...

Kissimmee - 60
Norwalk - 158

Median Family Income

Kissimmee - $30,896
Norwalk - $55,269

Average cost of a 2,000 sq. ft. home

Kissimmee - 162,000
Norwalk - 448,000

Percentage of high school graduates

Kissimmee - 76
Norwalk - 80

Percentage of population with a bachelor's degree

Kissimmee - 13
Norwalk - 30

Population density (people per square mile)

Kissimmee - 2,710
Norwalk - 3,444

Number of crimes committed per 100,000 people

Kissimmee - 10,401
Norwalk - 5,673

Percentage of population unemployed

Kissimmee - 3.9
Norwalk - 2.4

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A few things...

As you can see by my links... everyone wants to take a bite out of blog. What can I say? I've made the internet cool again for the five people that read this thing.

Also... I posted Ryan's new song a few days ago... never mentioned that though. It's a fantastic song and I suggest you listen to it before I take it down again. I should also mention that most of the frustration is finally gone from mixing... I'm mixing songs in under an hour. I am Superman.

Finally... there are talent agents and literary agents and all that in my kitchen.

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Sedna.

New "planetoid" found in our solar system.

Sedna.

Biggest object found orbiting our sun since Pluto in 1930.

It's 3/4 the size of Pluto, and far far past it. If you were standing on Sedna, you could block out the entire sun with the head of a pin.

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Jeremy had some sandwiches for dinner...

My mother and I spent today at an upscale outlet mall with my aunt and cousin. My fresh haircut, my tie... I most certainly throw off rich-kid vibes now more than ever.

This may just be the tie's drawback... it sets me apart from everyone else my age... but does it help make me look unapproachably rich?

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Hair cut again. Razored. Razor to hair for twenty minutes, it's a sensational sensory scrape. A sound that bypasses the ears, goes straight into your head like the penetrating vibrations of fingernails scratching your scalp.

My mother says that when I stepped outside a woman with two teenage daughters asked how old I was, what school I attended.

I am every mother's perfect boyfriend to their fourteen year old daughter.

I am every mother's perfect boyfriend to their fourteen year old daughter until they realize that I am actually nineteen years old.

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All dressed up and nowhere to go.

The plan was simple...

1. Roly Poly: Rolled Sandwiches
2. Secret Window
3. Bar hopping in SoNo (South Norwalk)

So now then...

1. The rolled sandwiches were spectacular.

2. Secret Window was motherfucking eye opening. Not the film itself, but the experience of seeing a movie in the SoNo theatre. I thought, maybe I'm back in the fourth grade and it's sex-ed film day! Jeremy and I are nearly the oldest in the packed theatre. Anyone older, brought their kids. Fourteen year olds are dividing into other fourteen year olds like cells. Those teens split and then those split. You can choke on the puberty.

And none of these vapid fucks can shut their fucking mouth.

We must travel far and wide to see movies from now on. Far from people that are closer to my own age than I'd like to admit.

I was very happy to be wearing a tie... it set me good and far apart from all the motherfucking brats.

Secret Window, the film, was pleasing. Not spectacular like say... a rolled sandwich, but pleasing none the less. It would have been more enjoyable had I not figured out the ending halfway through... but I can't help the fact that I was Sherlock Motherfucking Holmes in a past life.

3. It's really cold again. My jacket is in Florida. Jeremy's jacket is in Florida. Dress shirts are very thin. A tie brings your body no extra warmth.

And so maybe walking around SoNo in the frigid night air was no longer of interest to Jeremy and I. We did drive around... things looked decidedly not-hopping.

Later, online... we read about how hip Friday nights are in SoNo. We were maybe early? We also read of the dress codes and how strict they are. One nightclub... opening soon... ages 25 and up. It is apparent that I will have a hard time getting into any of these places of alcohol... being of an age that cannot purchase alcohol and all.

The tie comes off.

Another uneventful night.

We ordered Spellbound on Pay-Per-View... a documentary about the National Spelling Bee. It brings out our stories of being elementary school students stacked against middle schoolers at the regional bee. Ten years later... I don't even understand some of the words they're throwing at the documentary's kids in finals. I think maybe my genius has peaked.

I have to read more.

Right now I'm reading a 200 page book on the human fascination with butterflies. Butterflies are nearly useless creatures, you know? There are a select few types that transfer pollen, but most do not... and that makes them utterly useless to this world.

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Jeremy thinks he can just break the news of my dog's heart murmur in his blog.

The vet says that it is possible that Regan has a heart murmur. It's no exact fact. I am not even sure what that would mean. I am slightly positive that that means we should not excite her. I am completely sure that that will not be possible.

She will supposedly be fine, though... and this has made the murmur the fodder of the week. I believe that Jeremy created not one, but two voices for Regan to speak to me about her murmur.

On dwarfs for a moment. I saw a few minutes of Oprah just now and she was displaying a family of dwarfs for the nation's amusement. This brought to mind serious moral issues. Not on the exploitation of the dwarfs, but of the decision by dwarfs to breed.

Two dwarfs + sex = child with a fifty percent chance of being a dwarf as well. Why decide to bring someone into the world that will most definitely be treated differently from everyone else? Why not adopt? Thinking this also made me feel bad, because this dwarf family had a few children that were not born dwarfs. So, if they had not decided to have children... these perfectly normal kids would not exist... but then either would their thirteen year old dwarf son that has to grow up with normal brothers and sisters and must feel like shit. It's all very confusing, and I'd rather just move on now.

I bought a printer today. I feel that a writer should probably have a printer. The printer will allow me to print out my writing. It's a real cool concept.

Also... printers are now disposable. It's something I've realized. Printers are as disposable as razors. You see, my printer was $50 and is actually really nice. Is more than qualified for my text printing needs... prints photos even. It came with a black and white and a color ink cartridge. Purchased seperately, these cartridges cost $30 and $33... or... $13 more than the printer. Only once again, the printer comes with these cartridges. People would be saving money to throw entire printers in the trash. I see a future with rolling hills of these printers, piled and piled up. Eventually, we'll all drown in old printers.

I'd never do that though, throw away an entire printer to save $13... no sir, I'm just going to refill my ink cartridges with a syringe like any smart person should.

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Christian's No Sugar Added Very Strawberry-tastic Fat Free Milk Shake-esque Frozen Treat

1 cup fat free milk
6-8 large frozen strawberries
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
4-8 packets artificial sweetener (blue stuff, pink stuff or splenda... it don't matter)

Blend all ingredients in a blender until smooth... start low on the sweetener packets and add more until you are satisfied.

And enjoy! It's really tasty, yo.

Copyright 2004, Christian Stella
From his forthcoming book, Look At Me Now: From Fat to Phat and How I Did That

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All right... somebody drugged the favorite doberman at a dog show in London to get it out of competition. Chemicals exist and so now dog shows aren't even safe.

I blame this all on baseball players.

Chemicals exist and so now baseball is played by superhuman steroid monsters. Somebody estimated that a quarter of all baseball players are on them. It's gotten to the point that if they don't take them, they can't compete.

So what have we learned today? Baseball players are only seventy-five percent human and dog shows are fucking pointless anyway.

Oh and hockey allows players to beat the shit out of other players for ratings and now somebody's sucker punch has resulted in a broken neck. Somebody broke somebody's neck on the hockey rink. That's not hockey, y'all... that's attempted manslaughter.

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Jeremy's blog is up HERE.

We spent a third day around town. Doing nothing in stores feels more productive than doing nothing in the house.

Ate at Duchess... a Connecticut exclusive fast food restaurant with a million panel menu board. Jeremy and I discussed ways they could simplify the menu as we ate.

I was eating a full meal... fast food. Chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, peas, salad and a roll. Diet lemonade. It tasted like school food. An eight dollar school lunch.

Jeremy ordered the ham sandwich and fry mountain. His food was more expensive than mine.

And mine came with nostalgia... what did his come with? Ketchup.

Bought another bottle of wine. A six dollar merlot/zinfandel hybrid that we'll enjoy with a film. That film... I don't remember the title. I can't ever remember the title. It's a very generic title, I promise you this. I do however remember that it is about a group of young people that unleash a demon through the power of the Quija board. It sounds so fucking bad! And that, folks, is why there will be wine involved.

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Food Network has a message board for my father's show now...

About 48 Hours...

"Also, Loved the part with Christian. He's such a doll! Wonder if he'd like to get hooked up with my daughter... LOL"

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All the photos from the trip can be seen out of order, out of context and in horrifying quality HERE.

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Jeremy is slogging out an in-depth account of our journey, I'm pretty sure.

This leaves me free to dick off.

I mean, I could get into the tiny churches, pregnant swans and near encounters with horny Baltimore girls... or I could just tease you like I just did and then move on.

I will however talk about 48 Hours for a moment. I don't remember much of 48 Hours, honestly. I had half a bottle of white merlot, sugar free gummi bears and several multi-symptom Rolaids in my stomach at the time. I was mega drunk. Oh boy. This seemed a fitting celebration of my latest television appearance to Jeremy and I. Drinking wine in a motel room in South Carolina. It was magic.

Drunk and waiting for myself to come on CBS, I remember flipping out. I remember it was very overwhelming and slightly unpleasant.

I remember thinking the lighting was very harsh... that you could see every imperfection of my face... but I also thought I came off good... that my whole family came off good. And also, the lighting could have done me worse... could have made me look like a wax figure, like it did the interviewer. (She did not look like wax in real life. She was quite nice actually.)

Also, it was good to be nice and drunk once I realized that they only used about thirty seconds of the hours of interviewing they did. So many hard hitting, emotion stirring questions they threw at me... only to end up on the cutting room floor. They gave me ulcers! And for what? I ask, for what?

Look at how drunk we are!

Now there are more people on message boards talking about my family and I. Things grow ever stranger. There's a letter on CBS' site from a viewer commending me. Things grow oh so ever stranger.

Right now, I'm just trying to relax... it's been non stop for two weeks. I'm so eager to start writing again... shorts or my novel, I don't care... just write.

Jeremy and I are still trying to get settled in. I feel like I've only just moved here. Visiting Florida, it no longer felt like home... coming back, either did Norwalk. I am at a weird time. I don't feel attached to any one city or state. Of course, my goal is to FINALLY learn to love it here. To FINALLY leave the house.

To FINALLY find where all those damn girls are hiding.

Otherwise, I may just have to move to Baltimore and that's that.

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Mapquest estimates an eighteen hour drive from Kissimmee to Norwalk.

It took us four days.

Things are well with me. How about you? I am tired, yes. Real tired.

So now you know that I am alive... I know that I need sleep... and we both know I'll be a little more articulate in the morning.

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