Tonight I’m doing an interview on the radio…mostly about you know, grooming habits, politics, my family, this blog, which of the nudes that you guys sent in is my favorite (thanks Jim from Tuscaloosa!) and shit like that, but we MAY also touch on the rock show that my band is playing at the House of Blues in Chicago on October tenth. It should be exciting stuff, and as such, I’m willing to trek down to Q101 after work and bullshit with some dude about my influences and crap like that. Wooohoo! So yeah, I don’t think it’s gonna be broadcast live or anything, and I can pretty much guarantee it’s not gonna be interesting, so I dunno. I guess there’s no point to this bit of trifling information. Sigh.
Ah, September the eleventh…for some reason, this date always sticks out in my mind. Maybe it’s just that my birthday was a few days ago, and now the cobwebs have cleared and I’m on to my new year of life. Yeah, I think that’s it. “September eleventh: Never forget that you’re a year older”. Hmm…that sounds about right, if maybe a bit wordy.
If you were gonna lose a body part, what would it be? Finger, toe, ear? It’s hard to say really. I think I’d have to go with a ball. It seems like people get rid of one of those all the time and it just kind of fills in with scar tissue. Didn’t someone say that about the Olsen twins? They’re like Tom Green’s balls-They both look the same but one is empty inside. I think that’s funny, I guess because I don’t like any of the people involved. Whatever, sounds like Mary-Kate is fun to party with, at least. Heyo!
My class went okay last night, although the skit I ended up writing involved a tranny and two chickenheads (go to some sort of urban dictionary or something) and a husband and wife all in bed together rather than the lesbian, martian old man etc combo I conceptualized yesterday. It turned out pretty sublime, I think.
I really don’t have much of an agenda today. I gots to work soon, and I was hoping I could just start writing and I’d think of a good list or maybe someone would need some advice or something like that, but alas, I got nothing. This sucks. This has got to be the worst September eleventh in history.
5 Things I wish I didn’t like, but kind of do:
5 Things I don’t like, except for on some rare occasions:
Mayo- It’s gross. I don’t want to even think about mayonnaise. When I see someone eating a sandwich or something and all that mayo is sliding down the back of their hand by their pinky, I want to barf. But man, it goes from disgusting to necessary pretty quick. Is that a rolled up newspaper full of Belgian fries? Better have the mayo, yo. Same with certain sandwiches. I actually tend to avoid these foods, because I can’t really bear the thought of needing mayo on food…but you can’t deny that shit sometimes. Did you know that they use mayonnaise in lots of Mexican dips, including some guacamole? That’s just revolting.
Rock of Love- I don’t know, man. I can’t explain what the appeal of watching strippers barfing and hurling liquor bottles at each other is…oh wait, it’s awesome. I just wish it wasn’t such a sign of the apocalypse. Also, it’s good to watch that show because (listen up guys) every time Bret Michaels wears a new piece of clothing on the air, he officially makes that piece of clothing absolutely unacceptable for any other self respecting male to ever wear again. So burn your Ed Hardy shirts and True Religions. They’ve been Michaelsized.
Perez Hilton’s website- So dumb…It’s kind of like if mayonnaise and Bret Michaels had a baby it would be this tubby pop culture disgusto-tron 9000 and his website dedicated to doodling jizz on people’s chins, but fuck me if I can stop. I don’t even know what Gossip Girl is, but I can name the fucking stars of that shit. Fuck!
Strip clubs- Throw your stones. There are naked ladies in there, and beer. I don’t know why this is even on this list, because I LOVE those two things…but it is. Something about putting the two together just kind of makes you seem like one of those guys, you know? Stupid puritanical national identity. So, I like them, but I don’t really go. Plus, the strip club is a bit like in n out burger in that we don’t really have them in Chicago, so I’m a little deprived anyway. Well, we’ve got places where the girls wear paint over their breasts, which is just kind of stupid looking, and places that have nude girls but don’t serve beer, which is creeeeeeepy. I like to at least pretend I’m there for the beer. The next option is driving to Indiana or something, which I’m just not going to do for the sole purpose of going to the titty bar, you know?
Those fucking hats that everyone is wearing now- I know that every douche in Williamsburg and in Echo Park and everywhere in between insists that they were wearing the brimmed, fedora style hat before it got all cool, but fuck man…I used to love those things. Now, I look like a kid rock fan impersonating brad pitt or something. It’s just embarrassing. I also used to collect mesh ‘trucker style’ hats when I was a kid. I have bags and bags of them that my mom would bring me from as long ago as I can remember. Suddenly, Ashton Kutcher shows up and my twenty five year collection of hats in reduced to “Hey, you like Punk’d?” No. I WAS punk’d. Fucking Kelso.
Okay, it’s off to work I go. Stupid work. Have a rocking Thursday, and let’s make this one of those September eleventh’s to remember for a change, right?