Nicolasix's Page

One of my favorite things to dwell upon is travel, especially of the air variety. But this time, I've got a new source for my Fret: Honey.

And God said, "Yea, do not be proud or boastful about your good and plenty space. For verily I say unto thee ...

This is one of the most exciting things I've seen. Ever. The French eat a little crow as Lezak comes from behind and out-touches Bernard by 8/100's of a second. I think what makes it more incredible is that not only did the US shatter the previous world record in the process (by almost 4 seconds), but the next five teams to touch the wall also came in under world-record time. Better, stronger, faster ... this is a new age of swimming ya'll.

Can we really make the claim that Phelps is "the fastest swimmer ever?" In one sense, yes, of course we can: He's got the fastest times. Duh. But the times are only half the story here. Is it possible to make any sort of meaningful comparison between Phelps and great swimmers of the past, people like Spitz, or my personal idol as a kid Matt Biondi.

One of the things I love most about having work to do is that it forces me to procrastinate. I like to say that it gives my procrastination purpose. And one of my favorite ways to procrastinate with purpose is to add new features to this blog.

I'm joining a support group.

Anyway, let me get to the point: all of this is a very long-winded (and, yes, self-indulgent) way of me saying that if you're in DC or NYC you can (and should) catch The Jones at one of these two shows.

The weird part wasn't that Honey, you know ... spoke. It was that she spoke with an English accent. It wasn't exactly a proper, "Received English" kind of English, but it wasn't quite an East End of London, Cockney type of thing, either. It reminded me of the Beatles. She had a sort of nasal thing going on. Like John.

Here's Honey picking up our neighbor's paper and bringing it back to our house, set to music.

I'd like to think that God had the best of intentions when he created chipmunks. But even God has days when he feels a little ornery, and all he feels like doing is kicking back and letting off some steam. So he invites Old Scratch over to his place and they smoke a couple of bowls and play a little XBox. And, over a heated game of Madden 2010 (they get advance copies of software) they think up ways to piss people off, or ruin Jason Lee's career.