is older than it's ever been and now it's even older



Beauty & Drunk. It's Rita Hayworth's birthday; the photographers have gathered; she's perfectly put together, and just drop-dead gorgeous. Her husband, a Mr. O. Welles, has just rolled out of bed and combed his hair with a pencil, and forgotten to button his shirt. The general impression is that he either A) had to get drunk to have sex with Rita Hayworth, or B) got so drunk he couldn't have sex with Rita Hayworth. Neither reflects well on him.

I'd probably better drop my claim to being Minnesota's Third Best Blog. I just found Lilek's blog, and it rocks, hard. That drops me down considerably. The Impetuous blog helpfully denied that I sucked, however, so that buoys my spirits. I'd just like to offer sincere apologies to anyone I owe email to, because I've been bad about writing anyone. The truth is, I started writing about my memories and thoughts of debate in the Debater's Corner sub-blog since earlier this week and I keep getting sidetracked by stupid stories, so I'm not sure it will be done any time soon. And of course, if I haven't been blogging here, I've been trying to get that done, so Big Important E-mails I need to write are being put off. Stories? Well, like some involving Sean LeMoine, a nearly legendary figure amongst the bizarre folks that populate the world of debate. Sean went to school at Northwestern Louisiana State University. No one ever accused Sean of being the sharpest crayon in the box, and Sean knew it, and loved throwing it in the faces of those debaters that were far smarter than him yet did worse. He was known for doing things like going up to rival debaters that had failed to make it past preliminary rounds and loudly yelling in their faces in a near-caricaturish southern twang, "3-5? 3-5? (Referring to that debater's record, out of eight prelim rounds) You're watching ME debate!" And now, see, I'm letting these damn things spill over into Hobbsblog. Great.

Skipping straight to the links, or Pretending to be Intellectual

Ok, so I got 6 outta 10 only on this Guardian Book Quiz. Frankly, I should have only gotten about 3 or 4. It's a hard quiz, and I got lucky.

Which modernist triumph did Virginia Woolf consider "the work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples?"

From Blue Ruin, which is a fine British Blog. Let me rephrase that, considering what I'm about to write. I love this blog. It's one of my favorites, and has been for months and months. Because, there was something about this particular blog I had been meaning to say; oh yes. Catherine states that she owns

Black heeled shoes: 3 pairs
Black boots: 4 pairs (one with holes in, one with silly fluff on, two relatively practical)
'Cow hide' boots
Cowboy boots (well, sort of)
Flat shoes
Flat sandals: 3 pairs (two of which are pretty much unwearable on account of the shocking blisters they give me)
Silly, impractical party shoes: 10 pairs (seven of which are black)

Ok. That's amazing. She owns 25 pairs of shoes. I own two. What's up with that? Oh, but her immediately previous post is whining about having no money. Uh, I don't know how many pounds shoes cost across the pond, but over here they're a lot of money. I could do a lot with 25 pairs of shoes worth of Ca$h money, I tell you what. And what's a whinge?

Finally, you'll like this one; the crack dealer hired a double to serve his prison sentence. Problem? The double got sick of it and left just 47 days before completing the sentence. Now the crack dealer is in custody facing a charge of defrauding the United States. From the Obscure Store.

Oh, now that I know about this site I don't know if I'll ever post a LAPI again. They're showing pornography in there! I'm shocked and appalled! I swear I was only in there to find out about this video game intro sequence!!


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