web-goddess

As I reported to Dark Horizons, Marilyn Manson is NOT going to be playing Willy Wonka. I have confirmation from the Dahl estate that the script isn’t even finished, and no actors have even been considered for casting yet. Visit this page at my site to keep abreast of all the latest “Charlie” film news.

Somebody in Danville, Kentucky managed to pass off a phony $200 bill with a picture of George Bush on it to an unobservant Dairy Queen cashier. Hilarious. Where can I get me one of these? (On a related note, I think I’ve actually been to Danville, KY at some point in my childhood.)

Apparently my home state, Indiana, is considering finally moving to Daylight Savings Time. This is kinda sad, because the old adage that “Time stands still at Notre Dame” won’t be literally true anymore.

Fantastic! As hit-or-miss points out, The Hero Machine is even cooler than StorTroopers. Check out my badass self over there! That’s Blaster Web-Goddess, in case you’re wondering. (You can click on the picture to see the enlarged version.) She lost an eye a few years back during a shootout with her mortal enemy, The Weaver. She’s sworn revenge, of course, and now she stalks a post-apocalyptic I.T. universe in pursuit of the vile miscreant, only pausing to help out HTMLers in distress along the way. Ennio Morricone is composing her theme song as we speak. 🙂

The Observer finally published my letter to the editor!

That young boy, Scott Delgadillo, the one that came to the Purdue game with the Make-A-Wish Foundation, died Monday night. *sniff*

The Observer published my letter!

Holy cow! Next Wednesday is officially “Sex Day” on Dawson’s Creek! Check out the trailer for the episode.

Dilbert.com apparently unveiled a new design for their home page sometime during the last month. I like it, but I wish they’d move all the interior pages over to the new format.

I just suddenly remembered the craziest dream I had last night. The Weasels (including me) were playing interhall football against Siegfried (who are now male, in case any alumnae don’t know) in my high school gym. The stands were full and there was a solid division down the middle between the sea of purple on the left and the sea of red on the right. (Are Siegfried red? I have no clue.) Anyway, the Weasels were winning 20-7 and the crowd was going nuts. Our side kept repeating this cheer that went something like, “We are the Weasels, and you can kiss our ass! Yes, you can kiss our ass!” Lizzie was quarterbacking and the Siegfried defense had pushed us back to one corner of the gym floor, and our backs were literally against the wall. So we were huddled up trying to figure out a play to call. I was in favor of a Quarterback Draw (or as we used to call it, “Get the Fuck Out”) where the line would push everybody to the left and Lizzie would scamper down the sideline (i.e. the front of the bleachers). But we were also debating whether we could protect her long enough to throw a long bomb down the floor to Kel, who then needed to scamper to the out-of-bounds line to score the touchdown. Faced with this quandry… I woke up.