I was listening to my 80’s mix on my iPod this morning on my way to work.

About halfway through my commute, Billy Ocean’s, “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” came on.

In case folks need a refresher, here’s how the song starts:

Hey you! Get in to my car
Who me?
Yes you, get in to my car
Woooooooooh. Wah! Hey!

(In case you need a more visual reminder, here’s the music video.)

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit when I heard the song.

First off: Damn, I need to get more chutzpah and tell random hot people on the street to get into my 1996 Honda Civic. Second: In what other era could you tell people to get into your car and not be mistaken for a serial killer?

I’m at the computer lab at GW again. Apparently this is where I actually get stuff done. Apparently. I’m taking a quick break just to announce to the entire blogosphere that I, indeed, hate my dissertation.

Some of you might think, “Archie, hate is such a strong word.” 

Perhaps. Or perhaps hate is not a strong enough word to accurately express my disdain for this project.

In case there’s any wondering, I’ve officially hit the hate-hate relationship portion of my doctoral program. At this point, there’s really nothing else motivating me other than (1) a deadline to get chapters 1-3 done in time for my proposal defense in August, and (2) looking forward to changing the name of this site to Dr. Coobysnacks next May.

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Best thing about the release of the new iPhone: Applications. Talk about enhancing functionality. They didn’t just enhance the iPhone’s features; they pretty much just blew the roof right off. From Facebook to Twitter to AIM to Pandora… this thing is freaking amazing. I’ve become a full-blown Mac-loving (not McLovin) yuppie. And I love it.

For some reason, I subscribe to the FBI’s e-mail alerts. (Long story… ) The alert I got yesterday was a little foreboding. In the subject line it simply said: SERIAL MURDER: New Report Highlights Views of Experts.

Wow. That’s great, I thought. I don’t get enough alerts from the FBI about serial murders.

Apparently, the FBI has recently released a publication to let the public know that serial killers aren’t necessarily like what we see on TV and in movies. Good to know. Contrary to common knowledge, they’re apparently very cuddly, enjoy long walks on the beach, and have a healthy fascination with SoyJoy.

Speaking of serial murderers and SoyJoy, America’s Next Top Model is doing a casting call this weekend at the mall across from where I live. Part of me wants to be there with a camera just to see who shows up.

Part I:

Thanks to everyone who stayed up past their bedtime last night to check out the debut performance of my improv troupe, Donna Martin Graduates. A fun time was had by all!

Admittedly, it wasn’t quite my best work (for some reason, I was a lot more nervous about this than I have been about any other prior performance), but it was a solid start. I don’t quite remember playing as many characters as I did last night, though. Huh. I guess I had it in me all along.

YouTube clips will be up shortly!

A few years ago, a friend forwarded me an invitation to join this website called Friendster. It was a so-called “social networking” site where I could connect with people I was friends with. My reaction: “Social networking? What the heck is that? And why would I need to connect with people I’m already friends with?”

Of course, since I’m easily talked into things, I signed up anyway.

Fast forward a few years later, and I’ve effectively saturated the social networking market. I have accounts at all sorts of sites with social networking features, such as Friendster, MySpace, Facebook, LinkedIn, FlickrTwitter, and most recently, Yelp. (Wow. Typing that just made me realize how much of a dork I really am. Oh well.)

Given that I skew a little older than the target demographic, Facebook is my stalking tool of choice, where I have 496 friends, 495 of whom, I’m proud to say, are people I actually know and am friends with. (There was this one girl here in DC who friended me randomly. Again, because I’m a pushover, I accepted.) I check the site multiple times everyday, send birthday greetings, write on walls, andif the mood strikessuperpoke.

And because I clearly value Facebook over the other social networking sites, my other accounts have been left untended for some time. So on a whim, I decided to check my MySpace account this morning.

I was aghast to see that my friend list had shrunk to a mere 69 people. At one point, I had more than 100 friends there, but people seemed to have abandoned MySpace and moved on to greener(?) pastures.

At least I’m still friends with He-Man on MySpace. If you’re going to only have 69 friends, one of them might as well be the Master of the Universe.

Yay America! Boo Britain!

Okay, I guess technically I can’t boo Britain, since I secretly want to move there at some point. Oh well. :)

In any case, I was wandering the Pentagon City mall this morning (waiting to get my hair cut), and I saw one of those CBS news story briefs on the flat screen TVs by the food court. It basically said: “Supreme Court ruling on Guantanamo may unleash terror suspects on America’s streets.” It was up for maybe five seconds and then moved on to a video feature on how to make poached eggs. 

Wow.

Talk about scare tactics. I guess it’s good that I can now carry handguns in DC. You know, in case it turns into a Grand Theft Auto situation and I have to defend myself against evil hookers.

In a few days, we’ll be celebrating our independence from the tyranny of our former British colonists. And what better way to celebrate that freedom than by turning on the TV and seeing a pale, skinny 18-year old dude dressed as a nerd and trying to perform a burlesque show on America’s Got TalentYay America!

I know, I know. I am once again a truant blogger. This time, though, I have a good excuse: I’m having my annual existential crisis.

Without fail, around this time every summer, I become intensely pensive (more so than I usually am) and start thinking about the meaning of life. It’s not really a bad thing, because my massive tendencies toward introspection allow me to evaluate what I’ve accomplished in the past year and think about what I want to do next.

Of course this type of self-assessment is usually pretty helpful. Unless, of course, you’re in the middle of writing your dissertation. And you have a full-time job. And you do improv at least three nights a week. And you have about ten million other things going on in your life.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve actually effectively rid myself of precious “Archie time” to watch Law & Order reruns, go to the gym, or lounge by my pool. But I have no one to blame but myself for all the things on my plate, so I take full responsibility for my crap. :)

A few random musings on this Sunday afternoon:

  • Run, don’t walk, to see Wall-E. It’s a near-perfect movie that’s not really about mankind’s environmental irresponsibility (somewhere Al Gore is channeling Mr. Burns and saying, “excellent”), as much as it’s about our human need for connection. The genius of the film, of course, is that it uses a robot to remind us of our need for community: that we can’t go things alone; that we need others; and that we find fulfillment not in our programmed “directives” but in the relationships we build with each other.
  • I’ve been listening a lot to the soundtrack of this year’s Tony Award winner for Best Musical, In the Heights. It’s not only musically terrific, but it’s got some very touching themes about relationships and family that have hit home for me, especially these past few weeks (Did I mention I’m going through my Dawson Leary period of introspection and over-analysis?).
  • Speaking of hitting home, I finally got a chance to relax a little yesterday, so I decided to watch Field of Dreams using my cable’s In-Demand service. As usual, I teared up at the end, when Ray and his dad start playing catch. It’s true: all the best cowboys have daddy issues.
  • Finally, my pastor challenged us this week to start living dangerously for Christ. Nothing illegal or stupid, of course, but he essentially challenged us to get up off our collective asses and start doing something to make a difference in other people’s lives. So many of us have been lulled to a false sense of comfort that we’ve become complacent and risk-averse, content with our unrealized potential. We’re like the tubby humans in Wall-E, floating around in our cushy hover chairs and endlessly distracted by our own devices, while the galaxy whizzes by outside our window. We play it safe because it’s easier. But imagine what it’d be like if we all stepped out in faith, not seeing the net, but knowing that someway, somehow, we’ll make it anyway.