Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   crashing a law students' party
Friday, August 29 1997
    Poster to promote my website (28k)
    L

    ook at the picture to the right. I've started a poster campaign to promote my musings among the students and staff of the University of Virginia. Note the little tear-off URL things at the bottom. I'd like to think this effort will augment my hit rate!

    Oh shit, that was not meant as a double entendre!

    I printed out and put up a bunch of the new posters throughout the Engineering School at UVA. I know engineering geeks have more important things to do than read up on the details of my crazy lifestyle, but that's where the closest T3-equipped computers to my house are located, and I also wanted to check my email while I was out and about.

    A

    n intelligent sixteen year old girl from the deep south has taken an unusually keen interest in me since reading the musings. She found them in a search engine while researching Warren Wilson College, where she may go to college. She has called me both at work and at home, always apologetically. She fears she might be perceived as obsessed. But you know, I don't have an interesting life by shunning strangers and being paranoid about my exposure. So I've encouraged her to come visit and even told her my sexual fetishes. We'll have to see how that goes. By the way, for all you moral purists reading this, I have never once let age of consent laws affect my behaviour. I'm one of those perverts you hear about in windbaggish Senate debates, using the internet to lure children into my nefarious clutches.

    I was alone with a six pack of Black Hook and 70 channels of teevee feeling lonely while all the world around me was abuzz with activity.
    I

    n the evening, I somehow managed to weasel out of an impromptu dinner date with Steve Weiner. The night seemed poised for monotony. I was alone with a six pack of Black Hook and 70 channels of teevee feeling lonely while all the world around me was abuzz with activity. The students were coming back in droves. Even the usually quiet dead-end of Observatory Avenue was full of big vehicles offloading the considerable worldly possessions of University students. I never took much crap with me when I went off to college, choosing instead to "acquire" it once I was there.

    I decided to go down to the end of Observatory and visit Rory at the Haunted House. The local lowfi band, the Curious Digit, was in the front room practicing, so I went around back, and on the spacious back porch, found Rory, Monster Boy and Matthew Hart sitting around drinking Jagermeister on the rocks. How fun!

    The Jager was running kind of low, so we drove up to the Barracks Road ABC store for a litre of Southern Comfort, a similar, though cheaper, liquor. Back at the Haunted House, lots of extraneous people started showing up either to rendezvous with the Curious Digit guys or us. Most surprising was Deya's arrival with both of the Brazilian Girls: Leticia and Cecelia. They'd called from Brooklyn to say they were coming down, but we'd thought they'd be arriving tomorrow. They'll be here until Monday.

    I soon found myself merrily barging into the conversations of complete strangers, mostly with the result of their politely fleeing.
    T

    he drinking continued back at Kappa Mutha Fucka, though the details are blurry. We boys had a brief comparison of biceps, and mine were (for whatever reason) the largest, but Rory defeated me in an arm wrestling match all the same. Natalie came by, but she didn't stay long.

    What with all the craziness that the arriving students has brought to Charlottesville, we were eager to dip in and take some for ourselves. Fratville is notorious for it's drunken orgies this time of year, and so that's where we headed. A bunch of us went there in Rory's car and crashed what appeared to be a huge Frat party. It wasn't a Frat party, though. It was a party of law students: future leaders of the Western World. I soon found myself merrily barging into the conversations of complete strangers, mostly with the result of their politely fleeing. I tried to be nice and even honest with a woman named Mary who was fixing herself a drink at the bar, but when she found out we were not law students and were just crashing her party, she sent some bouncer types after us to round us up and kick us out. We went without complaint. I thought I would puke on the ride home and perhaps I did. Cecelia put me to bed.


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