the Dalaverse

I'm bored because I actually -- gasp -- got some work accomplished yesterday, so I give you: The Cedar Point Mix. This is the tape that played in my car, pretty much non-stop, from June of last year through this January. It began life as two separate CD mixes, the I Kicked My Midterm's Ass Victory Mix (celebrating Art History spring semester of last year) and the Cedar Point Mix version 1.0, which I made for the car trip to, lo and behold, Cedar Point last summer. I think it works so well for me because by the time I got around to making the tape, I knew which songs from the first mix I'd gotten sick of and could cull, and I only had a limited amount of space for half of the second mix, so I had to pick stuff I was certain I wouldn't get sick of. And you know, I'm still not sick of this mix.

I take my mix tapes very seriously. CD mixes, ultimately, are just a stepping stone on the way to the all-important tape. It's an art form. I wrote a scholarship essay on it once, and won. We'll ignore the fact that nobody else has ever heard of that scholarship so the applicant pool wasn't exactly crowded.

Anyway, on to ( the Cedar Point Mix )

My mixes are usually either named for a specific place and time, or after a theme. This one is The Fuck Mix. Light a candle, pour some champagne, grab some ass -- any ass will do, really, your own included -- and enjoy.


( And I said uhhhnn, caress me down (which is actually not on the mix, and does anybody have it to send me?) )

Oh, and did I mention the outcome of our "bomb" scare? The "bombs" were...broken light fixtures. No, really.

At least I got a shout-out -- the dean specifically mentioned students asleep or in the shower in his e-mail apologizing for the dumbfuckery of our school.