Way down yonder on the Chattahoochie

I finally got off my ass sometime yesterday and decided to give the DJ company a call to find out if it would be possible to have music at my wedding. They seemed to agree it would be a nice touch to have some sort of music. I then perused their website only to find that 10 (yes, 50%) of the “Top 20 Wedding Songs” listed are country songs. I ain’t havin’ no country songs at my weddin’, y’here? I was told I will receive a brochure in 3-5 working days and I can flip through it at my leisure and decide whether I want an All-Country Downhome Extravaganza, or a regular wedding for normal city-folk.

In other news, Anna Nicole Smith is a coked-out whore, but Erin and I watch anyways, every Sunday night. Its like watching a train wreck, except maybe the train is covered in feces and lit on fire, and is about to wreck into a bus of nuns and orphans. I guess this week she’s takin the damn thing on the road to Las Vegas. They do have a lot of buffets there, which may have been the siren song that attracted her.

According to the kind man in Tucson, AZ, my laptop order has been approved by the Gods of AccessHR, and it should arrive in 7-13 business days. Thank you mysterious man!

[UPDATE at 3:53pm]

By the way, I absoludicrously cannot believe that Chuck proposed to Billy on Smackdown last night. Just what in the blue hell is this supposed to accomplish?

[UPDATE at 6:26pm]

I have found the perfect exclamation of disgust. From freshman year of college (1997) until today (2002), I have appropriated “Jesus H. Flynt” as my exclamation of choice. But now, thanks to Hip Nixon, a poster at the Portal of Evil, “Jesus Christ in a gamma ray” is now my favorite quote. Thank you.