Sunday, January 6, 2002

yet another jimmy fallon entry

my sister was on the computer earlier, and she appearantly gunked up the keyboard with her grubby, carmex covered fingers. and the waxy keyboard is sort of really grossing me out right now. she's such a chapstick addict, it's fucking disgusting, and if she wasn't asleep right now, i would be yelling at her big time about this stupid keyboard. but since she's asleep, i am forced to rant here, i guess. i don't even know how to get this shit off. i hope it dries soon because it very much is distracting me from writing a non-carmex centered entry.

anyways, i am going to attempt to ignore my feelings of disgust at how gross my fingers feel when they hit the keys, and write something other than how gross the keyboard is. so, here goes, no more keyboard thoughts: two to four inches. oh yeah. meterologists give me hard-ons. sometimes hearing a weatherman can make me far more excited than even seeing my #1 crush of the moment. two to four inches of snow tomorrow. when the weathermen mention chance of snow, all thoughts leave my mind except for giddiness. i am pavlov's dog. at the sight of a winter weather advisory running across the bottom of the screen during friends or some other crappy tv show, i without fail, flip out and chant snow snow snow!

remember waking up early checking red apple 21 every ten minutes to see if school's been delayed or canceled. no school, whoo, stay at home, sleep in, and play in the snow. hot coco. wet boots and clothes by the door. watching weather updates all the time. seeing if our street has been plowed yet. getting excited about being christopher columbus. snow with no footprints in it yet, tromping through it like some fifteenth century explorer excited about being the first. new terrain in suburbia. my footprints alone on a white land. the snow makes everything new and not what it was. i will be the first to traverse this cul-de-sac and will claim it for spain or myself if i feel like it. i fucking love the snow.

weathermen, you have such power over my mood. when you utter the words, "chance of snow," you are my main squeeze; my crush that makes me squeal with giddy delight; my shane riley; my marky mark; my jimmy fallon -- you, weatherman, are hot stuff disrupting my shit, upsetting whatever i was thinking before, making me think only about you you you - moist wet flakes that will drop from colorless sky that my mouth will try to catch - cold purple lips parted ready to recieve your load - the sky's ejaculate landing moist on my tongue making me oh so happy. drop drop drop. how many flakes can i catch. the snow in me, making me snow, making me capital n nature. maybe. i don't know - at least making me happy and feeling pure, which i associate with capital n nature. so close enough.

oh, it better motherfucking snow or i will be down at nbc 4 kicking some weatherman ass. however, this snow may interfere with my job-hunting ability - i have an interview at greenpeace on monday so that my mom will quit harrassing me about being lazy.

the lazy life is the life. sometimes. right now is sometimes. i am fucking loving it. the couch is my futuristic, space ship magic caret mobile camo'd out, allowing me to traverse the galaxy of tv land. occasionally though, being the adventourous space man i am, i take detours. i can do that. i am the pilot. i can do whatever i motherfucking want to do. so, occasionally i'll obliterate the entire tv galaxy with my jedi remote. i can do that too. put the ship on cruise control, free to walk about the cabin, listen dance sing along to the futuristic sonic stylings of miss jill scott. return to seats. do a little time traveling in my funky space mobile. can do that too. stop by dublin of june 16, 1904 and do a little isp reading. with my high-tech jedi remote i can also bring the entire tv galaxy back to life. being the forgiving and loving god of a spaceman that i am, i do just that and watch a little snl with my co-pilot otherwise known as my sometimes obnoxious sister, jamie.

in the first skit, jimmy fallon is wearing some t-shirt barely visible beneath an unzipped adidas jacket. my sister, a jimmy fallon nut, screams at the tv, unable to speak. i tell her to shut up and move. she is standing in front of the tv, pointing at his shirt, attempting to form words. she finally screams that she has that shirt. whooppee, right? anyways, she runs upstairs to get the jimmy shirt, brings it down and waves it in my face. it's a threadbare late seventies looking t-shirt with some palm trees on it saying, "it's better in the bahamas." i ask her where she got it, and she told me that i gave it to her. i have given her so many shirts that i have bought at goodwill that ended up not even fitting me when i got home.

-have you ever worn it?
-then can i have it?
-no! why do you want it? cause jimmy fallon wore it?
-yeah, he's cool
-i know, remember i'm his #1 fan?
-are you ever going to wear it?
-well now i am. you don't even like jimmy fallon!
-yeah i do, he's real cool.
-you're such a copycat! i thought he was cool first, and you know that!

even though my sister probably knows i'm gay, i held back, not telling her about how fucking hot i think jimmy fallon is. rather, i just emphasized how cool he is, and how i like his clothes. i know, it's really bad, i should be open about my sexuality and all. but i'm not at all at home. a few years ago, i told my mom i was bisexual when i still thought i was, and she glibbly responded, "well, be careful." fucking thanks, mom. anyways, at home, even though i'm sure my family probably has some idea that i am gay, we never talk about it. i am asexual, ambiguous, pre-pubescent boy that you don't ask about. whatever, i can live with that. it normally doesn't bother me or affect me. i read "a history of gay lit" on the couch and that's fine, normally life is lived openly. but, tonight i found myself catching myself, holding myself back from telling my sister that i have the hugest crush ever on jimmy fallon, and rather empasized how cool he is.

which was not a lie. i do think jimmy is so cool. he is my current model of coolness. you know those people, those non-sexual crushes that you get - that person that you just think is so rad, and you want to take on certain admirable aspects of their personality. i have always had so many of these people, that i'm like wow! they're so cool, i want to be more like that, and i morph. i am the personalities of so many rad people that i have encountered over the years, that i've thought were cool. and, perhaps cool is not the best word choice - it's a bit deceptive - cause these aren't "the cool people" usually. they're just the really rad people that you dig and are impressed with. robin kinzer, jesse robinson, chris baidoo, rachel herman, jamie penn, nick hanlon, anna montanna, keith bentele, cody hughes, little kim, sam grindstaff, rebecca wood, leslie jones, just about everyone that was a third and fourth year when i was a first year at new college, etc, etc. and the etc's can not be overemphasized enough since these are just a few of my you're-so-cool-crushes that i have had over the years - there have been so so many, i guess everyone i have met has effected me in some sort of way.

these crushes are the neal cassidys of my life - sort of muselike, but people that i look at and am inspired to be a better person by. they're just people that you really dig - people that are the bee's knees - fucking shining stars. and yeah, jimmy fallon is one of those people, too.

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