Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate

"I hate you, I hate you, and I don't even know you and I hate your guts. I hope all the bad things in life happen to you, and nobody else, but you." - Silky Johnson, Player Haters Ball

LSU hate week has taken over. All I think about is the unreasonable, almost unhealthy amount of hate I have for all things LSU. This includes: anything purple, state fairs (because they sell corn dogs there), Frosted Flakes, and the French.


LSU fans are the crunkest!



I hope all LSU fans get the clap. Except Ashley...but only because I don't want it to burn when Koban pees.


Go To Hell LSU!

Ole Miss football can suck it

Last night's performance was the most rookie, Busch league, Sun-Belt conference bullshit I have ever witnessed. And, what's more, I had to listen to it via an internet live stream from the Vanderbilt Radio Network. Yeah, that's right, I had to sit there and listen as those bastards reveled in our misfortune. 4 picks Snead, seriously? Well, I guess another transfer has fallen into the Ole Miss QB vortex of failure. That's kinda like a black hole, but instead of pulling in all matter in its vicinity and crushing it into a singularity, it just makes everybody around it really sad and pissed off. Can someone explain to me how this kid was going blow for blow with Colt McCoy for the starting job at Texas, but the second he steps on Ole Miss' campus he somehow loses all athletic ability? Maybe he's been smoking pot. He is from Texas and I can vouch for the fact that everyone person here, from second graders to old ladies at bingo partake of the herb every now and then. If that's the case, then Mr. Snead must have gotten his hands on the stickiest of the icky. It really is like all of our players collectively just forgot how to play football. I can take losing to LSU, Florida, hell even State, at least they have the common courtesy to rub it in your faces and be complete asses about it. Vandy people, on the other hand, are so sickeningly nice it makes me want to vomit. Vandy is like the guy who gets the promotion over you only because you got drunk the night before your interview and overslept and then comes up to you afterward and says something like, "Tough break champ, you'll get 'em next time." Don't you just want to punch that guy in the face? I do.

Hurricane make Hawkins Angry!

Lesson learned: Do not book a trip to the coast during hurricane season dumbass.

I'm booked on the morning flight to New Orleans tomorrow, and wouldn't you know it, a hurricane is churning its way up to the Big Easy. Of course you're saying, "But, silly Hawkins, that hurricane will be far, far away from the Land of Yats on Friday. It will still be bouncing like a pinball between Caribbean islands." How right you are, but my return flight is slated for 8:00am Tuesday morning, just about the time that the eye of that big bastard is scheduled to be on top of Orleans Parrish drowning all the nutria. We have a rental car that we are picking up at the airport on Friday, if push comes to shove, I'll say screw the flight, screw the money and drive back to Fort Worth. I will NOT be in New Orleans after a hurricane. You will NOT catch me floating ass up in the 9th ward after I've been shotrapestabkilled. I.WILL.SURVIVE.

In other news, I've gone to a full 2 weeks of classes this semester and Business Associations sucks. It's basically Accounting for lawyers. Didn't somebody tell these a-holes I failed accounting? Twice? Duh, that's why I'm in law school, 'cause the business degree didn't work out so well.

To end on, I thought some funny pictures of Memphis fans would be appropriate.
(unapologetically lifted from google image search)


"The camera is telepathically connected to my fingers. I don't want to throw signs, I HAVE to throw signs."



"Tats? Check. Hat turned at an awkward angle? Check. fly bitches? Check. I'm ready."



You see these? There's no hair under here, bro. It means I'm aerodynamic when I fight.


And a few for Ashley just because LSU sucks and they can kiss all of my ass

Summer Sucks

Summer kind of sucks. It's way too damn hot here. Not the sticky kind of hot like back home, where you're sweating the second you step out of the door, but the kind of hot where you feel like you are in an oven and even the wind blows hot and the sun is so bright it literally HURTS when it hits you. Summer also sucks because it's boring as hell. I bitch a lot about school when I have to go to class everyday, but when I'm having to go to class everyday at least I'm doing something. So far this summer I've watched the first two seasons of The Wire (that show kicks ass, how did I not know about it? Also, who knew Baltimore was so dangerous? Baltimore...really?) and all three seasons of Arrested Development (probably one of the best shows ever and if you didn't watch it when it was on TV, I blame you for it being canceled and will probably never forgive your ass, you're dead to me). I finally got around to listening to some new music that came highly recommended straight from NAFOOM (namely The Avett Brothers, who are awesome by the way). I broke out the old PS2 and replayed God of War, God of War II, and am currently in the midst of Devil May Cry 3, which is thoroughly pissing me off. Another month and I'll be back in class, bitching about having to actually do stuff again.

Only 43 days until this:



I won't be there, but at least I won't have to put up with this:




And here's a montage of Arrested Development's chicken dance, COME ON!

Super-Fantastic Bonus Post! - Movie Review

I just saw In Bruges. It stars Colin Farrell as a rookie hitman hiding out with his handler in Bruges, Belgium after a job goes wrong. Darker than Snatch and not quite as funny, it managed to be a great movie. Farrell was great in his role as the childlike Ray, and Brendan Gleeson was equally as good as his sour faced, life beaten partner. (If you don't know who Gleeson is, you would recognize him if you saw him: He played Hamish in Braveheart, and Professor "Mad-Eye" Moody in the Harry Potter series) The dialouge is as good and quick-witted as anything you'd get from Tarantino or Guy Ritchie. My opinion: See it. It may not be your favorite movie of all time, but you'll probably like it and it won't be a wasted NetFlix selection.

A few random things that have pissed me off

1) 60 year old lady going 40 on the interstate. Happens everyday right? No big deal. But, this particular old lady was driving a Porsche 911. I don't give a damn about whatever 3/4 life crisis you are going through, get the hell out of my way or buy a car that suits you better. You want to go 40 in a 70, do it, I don't care, but don't have the gall to do in a car that pegs out at 200. Do it in a Grand Marquis or something.

2) People buying lottery tickets and scratching them at the counter. I just want a red bull so I don't fall asleep driving to work. Yet you feel it's necessary to keep me waiting while you first decide which scratch-offs you want to buy, and then scratch them while the rest of us are standing in line. A-hole. On second thought, take your time. If you're trying to "hit it big" buying 10 different $1 scratch-offs at 7am on a Wednesday you've obviously got bigger problems than me.

3) Lawyer jokes. No, I'm not overly sensitive to them because I'm in law school. They don't offend me or make me mad, they just aren't funny. Add this to the fact that I've heard them all 20 times a piece and that's a recipe for comedy disaster. There is a guy that works with me that thinks it is just the funniest thing to tell me lawyer jokes. Haha, we get it, lawyers suck. Now leave me the hell alone and go back to listening to your Enya CD you tool.

No Nicotine: Day 4

I think, I'm over the hump. I went to Walmart and got some gum and it helps some. I still want a cigarette, but I don't NEED one. The real problem is going to be getting off the gum I'm afraid. I got all my grades in and I did really well this semester (these were grades that were good for me, probably average for other people).

No Nicotine: Day 1

I feel like crap. I'm tired, irritable, depressed, and just generally pissed off at everyone and everything. It's one of the universe's cruelest tricks to make coffee and beer taste so good with cigarettes. I'm trying this cold turkey. Think I might have to trek to Walmart and get the gum or patch. May not be able to do this on my own. My brain is playing tricks on me. Even now, as I finish a sentence I think to myself, "Man it's been a while since I've had a cigarette, I should go have one." Then I think, "Oh yeah, I quit." I have to keep reminding myself that I quit smoking. The last time I tried this, I literally found myself at a gas station counter buying a pack without thinking about it. This is the kind of hold this drug has on my brain. The receptors in my brain made me forget that I quit so they could get their fix. Damn receptors. Damn brain. Damn cigarettes. I'm gonna try real hard to fill my time with Playstation and empty calories so I won't be tempted to smoke. We'll see how that works out.

I've been in Texas far too long

Last night I went out on my patio to smoke a cigarette (I'll talk more about this in the next few days). I got a beer out of the fridge, put it in a huggie and stepped through the sliding glass door. I sat down and opened the beer, lit my cigarette and did a quick survey of the situation. I was smoking a camel light, drinking a Shiner Bock from my "99.5 The Wolf - Texas Country" huggie that I got for free at Willie Nelson's 4th of July Picnic. I shook my head in abject shame. "I'm so Texas it hurts," I thought to myself. Somehow, I never thought this would happen. I thought I could stave off the inundation of this Texican culture longer than this. It's a slippery slope from the innocent dabbling I've been doing to speaking unintelligibly and screaming out, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" at every opportunity, whether appropriate or not. I need some magnolias, too many mesquite trees around here. I need a November Saturday in the Grove drinking bourbon like they quit making it and yelling obscenities at coonasses. I need some Mississippi. And so, I'm a Texassippian. A Mississippi ex-pat in a land of barbarians, and, God help me, I'm starting to speak the language.