The computers at Contessa Dorms have no modems. I learned that the hard way. So far, here at UT, computers have been quite a pain in the ass. My password for UT access won't work. Maybe because its nine letters. I can't tell; the instruction sheet said that you're password should be up to 8 letters, not that it had to be at least eight letters. Here in Austin should means has to, I guess. Sir Mix-A-Lot is gone, I guess. He did that Baby Got Back song, and then he disappeared, unless youre a hardcore rap fan. I once read about some little down in the Midwest where a bunch of rappers lived and made music. Like Robert Earl Keen lives in Bandera, Texas, where I went to summer camp one year. We called ourselves the Homies, and had an old cowboy hat called the Homie Hat. Some guy in another tee-pee shot it up at Riflery one day, so we had a funeral service, of which I was the preacher. We made am H out of rocks above the hole where we placed the hat and said a prayer. The counselor said it was sacrilegious, but we went through with it anyway, and later dug it up and moved it because we thought some one was going to grave-dig it. Thats a great piece of trivia in my life- Where ids the HOmie Hat buried?  Someday, maybe I'll go visit Robert Earl Keen and we'll go up to Hamman Ranch YMCA camp along the banks of the ice-cold Medina River and find that H. That would be cool. When I was younger we went to the Monahns in West Texas, whenever we were visiting my grand-parents in Midland. Now my mom and grandmother are in a big tiff over a pins shower cap in the upstairs shower. Its a silly fight, of course, but I guess its kind of interesting to see who gives in and talks to the other first. My favorite tiff ever was the Tongs-Becky tiff of late 1995. It involved car accidents, lies, rumors, name-callings. Now Tongs goes to Montana State, in the Big Sky conference, which brings me back to tiffs. I knew this girl at St. Ed's named Jenn who had a friend she hadn't seen in a long time who went to Southern Utah, which I think is in the Big Sky. So I told her that next time she emails her she should mention that she knew someone in Austin who had a friend who was going to another Big Sky school. I don't think she ever intended to do it, but she emailed her anyway, and this Southern Utah girl never wrote back. I guess she'll never know about the whole Big Sky? Texas coincidence, unless Jenn told her, which I rather improbable. She obviously didn't care. Jorge stole Todd Snider's straw cowboy hat, which is now sitting right in front of me as I write. Todd SNider, from Nashville, was playing at the Luckenbach Laborfest, where we saw him a year before and when he crowd-surfed, Jorge just yanked it off his head. It was badass. Jorge says he doesn't feel bad about it. I wonder if Todd misses that old hat. I think he does, but he learned a valuable lesson, like when Jerry Jeff lost his guitar, and found it at some bar in New Mexico a year later. That story is probably bullshit, as most of Jerry Jeff's seem to be. It doesn't matter- I don't pay to hear storied from an era in his life that he probably really doesn't remember, but I do wish he's play a bigger variety of songs- the man has released over 30 albums- all different, yet plays the same set at every concert. I've never even heard Pot Can't Call the Kettle Black, and thats one of his biggest songs anyway,. You want stories, talk to old Sean- his stories pretty much suck, but his pride in telling them is what is so interesting. He makes a walk from Georgetown to the Jefferson Memorial sound fascinating, while I almost get lost lost-to-death in some God-forsaken part of East Texas, and I can't even keep people listening.