The picture encompasses so much.

Oh Mr. iPod, how I love you so. Reminiscing about all the good times you and I had seems like only yesterday; now your life may be evanescing from your now cold metallic body. Indeed, how cold that steel body is.

Unaware of your immanent fate, I saw that Apple logo of which I have become accustomed to, yet it was not the same. So conveyed to me by you in the way your little iPod soul could, with an error icon-- not just an error icon, an icon of lamentation; it was icon of morose. The dark days of your life had begun.

In a state of panic, I restlessly searched for something to assuage your pain. I, unfortunately, could not. It seems you were not meant to live out a pain-free year of life.

Soon I hope to send you off. Your silicon heart will soon be repaid, or so I hope, back to its convivial vitality of yesteryear. Yet will your, and my, sentiments be repaired so easy?I do hope so.

So when the fateful day comes in which I release you to the obscure box, into this obscure world with the paternal pains of which plauge this situation, I will miss you, iPod. I will miss you earnestly.

Who's drinking the communion wine?!

So, Josh, how did you spend your Saturday night? At a Church. Well, I wasn't exactly going to mass or anything; I promised my friend I'd keep her company while we sat through Jesus-screamo bands. Yes, Jesus-screamo. Oh, and if me spending some of my weekend in a church wasn't enough, I erroneously invited my friends—whom were drunk. I'm such a heathen.

Funny, too, the night started well. Of course, I was sitting next to the speaker-- on a pew, poignantly enough --while some crappy band basically screamed in my ear for an hour. On the whole, things were going fine and dandy; I was making jokes about the church people, talking (yelling) to my friend who I hadn't seen in a while, and pretty much having as much fun as I could muster in a house of God. Then my other friends came. Literally within the first seconds of seeing them, one of them foolzly walked to me and whispered in my ear, "I'm d-ruuunk." Odd how many stares are directed towards you when you're holding a drunk chick in you arm. Finally, we sat down in a corner in the back of the room while she rambled on. She soon began to ask, "Hey, are you a Jesus freak?!” which was all well, that is, until she began saying that to the church people there. We took her outside, vainly thinking that there would be less people to notice there- there wasn't. Alas, the problem seemed to be alleviated for the moment, and it was, aside from the occasional blurting of, "Whoo!!! I'm down with the G-O-D!!" or, "I have Jesus in my baw-day!" At last, she went home (fortunately she was not driving) without no more that an couple of odd looks directed at her—which, one would assume would be normal when one yells “VAGINA!” in a church.

So what’s the moral of the story? I should probably just stay out of churches.

Who can guess what my shirt says?

So I got a yellow shirt at The Buffalo Exchange a couple of months ago, I even blogged about it. Until now, I just assumed it said something like, "Death to all infidels!! ♥," or maybe even, "I ♥ Osama." Yet none of these seem to surfice. I've taken it upon myself (perhaps because I have nothing better to do) to finnaly find out what the hell it says. So I post this to anyone whom comes along, and has the slightest idea about it; please post here.