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In the biggest hypocrite move of my own private blogosphere, I have started a new blog back at ole faithful-- blogspot.com

Check it out, and Take A Chance On A Chaunce

That's the first time I've used the name like that.. I feel dirty
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See you next fall!

The blog will be giving birth at the end of the summer to . . .tourblog.
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“I won’t rest until every day is Black History Month.”

But Mister Gates, that's literally impossible!

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Last Friday I got up at 8:00, recovered from all the ugly naked people I still had in my immediate memory, grabbed my bags and headed for the airport.  I arrived in plenty of time for my flight, upgraded to first class for only $50—what a steal!—and then helped an ambiguously European man named “Michele” check into his flight using the e-ticket kiosk.  “Everything is so much more advanced here,” Michele philosophized to me.  “In Europe everything is—” and then he made some sound and used a hand gesture which I interpreted as “cultured.”  I proceeded to my gate but first stopped off at Dunkin’ Donuts to procure one of their visually stimulating NEW! SMOOTHIES!  I asked Darlene which flavor she thought was better, mango/passionfruit or strawberry/banana, and she said “Strawberry and banana” and for some reason, I believed her.  Needless to say, it was terrible and I drank the whole thing in ten minutes…I’m not sure at what point this would have occurred but it is undeniable that Darlene inserted around two and a half pounds of sugar syrup into my “smoothie."

The flights were both relatively short and fairly uncomfortable, except that in first class I was able to peruse American Airlines’ “premium passenger” magazine Celebrated Living in addition to their plebian edition, American Way.  In CL I learned all about how hunk and relevant celebrity Harry Connick, Jr. is doing something right now and is really talented in a number of areas, while in AW I learned all about how beautiful and relevant celebrity Teri Hatcher is actually really relevant and successful and (finally) she told me how she would spend an (obvious) day in the island paradise of Philadelphia.  Thanks to her I now know that you can eat lunch at a nice restaurant, go shopping at nice stores, take a nap at the Ritz, eat dinner at either of two nice restaurants, and then go out to bars before returning to the Ritz.  Also in CL I finally got the low-down on all the classiest and hardest to find hotels in America and abroad such as Ritz-Carlton London, the Ritz Paris, Park Hyatt Tokyo, Ritz-Carlton St. Thomas, Four Seasons New York, Ritz-Carlton New York and…Four Seasons Sydney.  I’m just glad they were finally able to get the research done on this article and get it out this year-- it’s journalism/blogger legend that this piece has been in the pipeline for 20-25 years.

After arriving in Nashville, Tennessee I had to wait for my parents’ arrival from Cali…fornia an hour after mine, so I decided to enjoy a few tunes on my Apple iPod^© and engage in the beloved activity of people-watching.  I have gleaned one steady conclusion from my people watching in Nashville which I believe resonates with the conclusions of a number of other people-watchers: people in the South are really fat.  “Whoa, whoa buddy, don’t get all insulting and hypocritical!  I’m from the South and I’m not fat and trashy…you’re from Southern California, why aren’t you fat??”   Well Southernblog, I am not saying that all people in the Drrty South are fat, just most of them, and don’t get me wrong—everyone in Los Angeles is pretty much hideous or beautiful, but they are all skinny.  Anyway, returning to my prepared remarks on obesity: I just don’t get it.

Thinking about this phenomenon with my dad on the drive into Bowling Green, Kentucky we mused shortly on the topic but also discussed traffic and le monde.  As we exited Highway 65 we began driving through town on the street my brother referred to as “the big, long street with all the restaurants.”  Boy oh boy, normalblog, was he right!  We proceeded to pass approximately sixty restaurants of the following names: McDonald’s, Hardee’s, Toot’s, Bob Evan’s, Tumbleweed’s, Steak n’ Shake, Arby’s, Longhorn’s, Mariah’s, Denny’s, Hop’s Grill and Bar, Toby’s Place, Garfield’s, and Burger King.  Not only is the number of possessive apostrophes in this last clause overwhelming, but these restaurants ALL serve BBQ pork, chicken, hamburgers, steak, fried chicken, French fries, sandwiches, and lard, pretty much exclusively.  As I began thinking back to my originally posed question regarding all the fat peepz, I began arriving at what scientists call “an empirical conclusion.”  I’ll let you figure that one out, blog.  Stay tunered.

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Date: Fri, 19 May 2006 00:25:00 -0400
From: Anne-Marie Zapf-Belanger <amzapf@fas.harvard.edu>
To: Michael Carter Padgett <padgett@fas.harvard.edu>
Subject: Re: Proposition

Haha, this is possibly one of the more entertaining responses I've gotten so far. I don't really know what to say at this point. I feel a little overwhelmed.

AMZB

On 5/19/06, Michael Carter Padgett <padgett@fas.harvard.edu> wrote:
      Anne-Marie,

      So thanks for sending out your proposition, it's really sweet of you to ask.

      I was thinking and I'd love to get together for a session but to tell you the
      truth, Lamont is the only true library for me. So I just came (ha!) to the
      conclusion that we should definitely juice in Widener to dually fulfill the
      requirement, but I'd like to propose a second juicing in Lamont. I'm intimately
      familiar with both libraries so we've got that covered and as of 2003, I don't
      have any major venereal diseases.

      Anyway, let me know what you think. If I don't hear back from you no worries,
      I'll just take it really personally.

      Good luck with chuicing your juicing,

      MP
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So I was sitting in this office today talking with my friend and I said "Dude what should I blog about today?  I've been mad negative and depressed lately so I want to take it up a notch and write something happy and uplifting."  So he naturally suggested that I write about "how fun it is to stand around and make fun of people."  I responded, "Yeah man, but I'm trying to be a bit more positive right now."  So he suggested that I talk instead about the shitty weather or something.  Frustrated but determined to still figure out a good topic I mused ouloud about "how many buffalo wings I ate today and how I haven't blogged about buffalo wings in awhile. But also," I realized, "I haven't blogged about homeless people in a really long time and that's like my favorite topic."  So then he kept checking his email and I decided that I would write about both topics, but definitely also about making fun of people at a later date.

In my return to the normal selection of dining hall food (read: not the 50% edible soup selection of the past week and a half) I gorged on buffalo wings and tots today.  I think definitely one of the best dining hall combinations in town/Harvard is a plate half-piled with buffalo wings, half-piled with tots, and three large cups of grapefruit juice.  Why is the juice machine always closed after-hours when I am in the mood for some grapefruit? Why is it called grapefruit juice anyway?  Doesn't have anything to do with grapes, at least I don't think.

Yesterday I was talking about homeless people with three snocks and gave a short version of my treatise on homeless life in the square, that is, how to tell the poseurs from the realz (see blog archives for deets).  Someone, not me, then made the observation that all these bums probably have really interesting stories and a suggestion was put to the table that we could go sing at one of the homeless shelters for like twenty minutes and chill afterward and listen to their stories.  Honestly though this is probably the most depressing thing I could think of,  primarily for the homeless people.  I think if I were "down n' out" the last thing I would ever want to do is listen to a bunch of snot-nosed chaunce college students singing about some bullshit and snapping their clean, well-trimmed fingers.  I mean, I know we all have a subconscious hope that the homeless people in the square all went to Harvard and have really interesting, well-articulated stories involving different countries and war and a bunch of other shit, but it's probably just really, really, really depressing.
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I've been thinking about what I said about usage of the word "hot" and I think I have misrepresented my stance.  Jon Gentry, you can say that shit whenever you want, man.

I have also just updated my facebook.com status with the result that when I look at my profile it kindly tells me "You are a brah."  What do you think about that M. Blogue?

I still can't figure out if you are a man or a woman...
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As I remarked to a few people yesterday, I’ve shaped the image which I think most accurately portrays the State of the Throat.   It feels as if I was diagnosed with tonsillitis and taken in for an operation which was subsequently botched, further injuring my tonsils, and then the surgeon left a number of sharp utensils in my throat to cause even more pain.   All this has instilled in me a temporary mindset of extreme negativity which is one part depressing and two parts fun!   On that note,

Words and phrases I am sick of hearing/sometimes saying:

1.  Awesome/awesomeness/any variant – The fact that this word has seeped into the jargon of every American aged 12-24 as the primary descriptive adjective regardless of appropriateness, to me, is both sad and annoying.   I remember reading recently somewhere (where, blog, where was it?) a similarly themed editorial about the usage of "awesome" in reaction to anything from "How do you feel this morning?" to "What’d you think of the funeral?" to "I finished running the analyses you requested on the Brooks account, sir."

2.  Ancillary – this word has begun popping up everywhere in my life, mostly in film lectures.   What happened to "secondary"? "Secondary" not good enough anymore? I think it’s a pretty neat word and I plan to use it a lot now and…exclusively.

3.  Rockstar – This word bothers me as much or more than "awesome" although it is probably used less.   Not only does the connotation of the word as describing someone who is "outstanding, or a star, or someone really unique and amazing and AWESOME to be around" annoy the shit out of me, but pretty much every use I encounter is also annoying and typically incorrect.  "Rockstar" should never be used in reference to any Harvard student besides Mark Eskenazi or perhaps Rivers Cuomo, and especially not as a complimentary note of thanks in response to the completion of an everyday task.

4.  D-bag/Douchebag – It’s just plain and simple that these words are passé.  "What to use instead?" you might ask but I don’t have an answer for you.  Just try something less douchebaggy, blog, and perhaps more original.

5.  Hot – I’m getting more of a headache contemplating why people still use this word to mean "cool" or "awesome" or "worth my time."

6.  Superlatives, especially ending in "ever" – Possibly the most annoying descriptive construction EVER har har.   Honestly, blog, are those the cutest shoes ever? Is Simple Plan really the best band ever?   Was Meet the Fockers really the funniest movie ever? Was I really the cutest baby ever?  Yes…yes I was.  Regardless, please stop saying shit like this because it is simply unnecessary.  The phenomenon of convincing someone that you really liked something, or thought it was funny, or thought it was scary, or good, or bad, by exaggerating it to the "____ ever!" has resulted in a complete reliance on superlatives in describing everything.   Ever hear of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," blog?  Well maybe you should go check it out with the rest of America because I don’t believe what you said about your sorority gurlz.

Also—Goldberg, I loved the Ben Folds concert but just talked about the shit I didn’t like, sorry to mislead you.

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1. There really just aren't enough blogs on here

2. Nevermind
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Still funny to me that “weekend” in French is “week-end.”   But I guess we still bastardize the double entendu by using the infinitive so, Francois, we are even.   Shit, have I already blogged about this?

This weekend was pretty interesting but assuredly pretty much the same as all the others.   After staying up all night with a bunch of snocks I naced my Latin quiz and headed off to a garden party.   I think that there are four important elements to create a perfect Harvard garden party: 1) a ton of booze and a bartender to serve the underage patricians; 2) a bunch of people wearing incredibly silly outfits typically involving bright, ill-matched polo shirts with raised collars, offensive blazers, and a lot of ill-sized seersucker; 3) a bunch of these people who have no idea how ridiculous they look; and 4) a scorpion pool.   To adequately implement the last of these you first need a kiddie pool, a lot of orange juice and pineapple juice, and liters upon liters of shitty, shitty vodka.   Add to this 300 straws, five cocktail umbrellas, a bunch of eager coeds, and a hefty dosage of mononucleosis and oral herpes and you’ve got yourself a recipe for success.   Luckily my symptoms haven’t shown up yet, except that I feel completely terrible and refuse to make the connection in my mind.

After waking up surprisingly undressed in my bed with no sheets at 8:00 Saturday morning, I had a deliciously lengthy breakfast and headed off to Salem to sing a bunch of old songs for a bunch of old people.  The drive back was vomit-inducing as we drove in circles, lost, while ironically listening to Emerson College’s Saturday program of a capella recordings and talking shit about them.   Soon after, I ventured into Boston to complete a few tasks, bringing me to Newbury Tailoring Company.   These dudes really have it down: they mark your clothing while wearing t-shirts and jeans, surrounded by a scary selection of action figures, whilst listening to “Ghostbusters,” “Funky Town,” and other songs you never actually hear in real life.   But boy oh boy can they tailor!   I also finally went into that bizarre department store Louis Boston and was amazed to find that they have an astoundingly hideous selection of women’s shoes.

Today I did a number of things not worth mentioning and then attended the Lardfest (Ha! Yardfest!) extravaganza in Harvard Lard.   Unsurprisingly enough the food was gross.   I kind of dug the beef/goop burritos and the Cape Cod chips, but everything else looked like an accident.   And the desserts were disappointing.   I’m not quite sure who the opening act of the show was, but they were generally terrible: some twat and his friend were playing guitar and drums together but could neither have rocked less nor have written more clichéd tunes.   I think the words “down on the Sunset strip” actually escaped the singer’s mouth, at which point an angel was shot point blank by God himself.   This might have been a coincidence though, I can't remember.   Ben Folds was entertaining although he didn’t play pretty much any of the songs I would have liked him to.   I guess this was lucky for me because no one found out about the “I’ll Have Your Abortion” tattoo I got across my entire chest yesterday to strip naked and show him during the anticipated rendition of “Brick.”   Actually I don’t even like this song and now I’m confused.

All in all the show was great except for everything he said when he wasn’t singing.   Also the bassist was really, really fucking ugly, man.   Like fugly.   Alright, I feel like death and I’m going to bed.   This is the most negative entry I have written in a long time, but somehow it feels like home.

<3

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