Good morning. We’ve worked this miracle where we got everyone (except the dumb hicks in Indiana [who are worried that their god will punish them for messing with the ‘natural order of things’] and the meth heads in Arizona [who just can’t be bothered to give a fuck either way]) to turn their clocks forward an hour. It’s the most incredible thing, because now, thanks to all of you out there, my baby, our baby sleeps until 830!!!! That means I get to sleep in until 830. It’s unbelievable. This is like getting laid for the first time only better because it lasts way longer. I used to think, back in the old days, that waking up at 830 was a real go getter thing to do. Now, it seems like the height of indulgence and laziness, and I couldn’t be happier. Fuck off man! I’m sleeping the fuck IN! As this development is destined to affect how I conduct my mornings, one thing is becoming painfully clear…I’m not really gonna have the fifteen minutes I need to do this here dumb opinion dissemination exercise on the days that I work, because I have to take the baby to his baby prison and you know, get to work, which means I have to put on pants and shit like that. Oh usually when I write this, I’m buck naked. I know, ladies, gay men, straight men who just like to think in pictures (sure)…it’s one of the most erotic images your brains can muster…but it only happens on those days that I don’t have to work. On the days I work, I usually slip on my nested cock ring/leather leash thing and then wear a soup strainer on my head. I don’t know why, but it helps me focus on a day of asking people if they want cheese on that, or another diet coke.
Can we break from talking about my erotic blogwear just for a moment to point out that if you are a man and you’re ordering diet coke, I am, make no mistake, laughing at you with great prejudice. Here’s the thing, either you’re fat, or you’re so snivelingly pathetic, and either way, that diet coke isn’t helping you at all. Okay, fat guy: Here’s an idea- Walk around the block a few times. I mean, lets not fool ourselves into thinking that drinking a diet coke is providing you with any more health rewards, as compared to regular coke, than the most minimal bit of exercise you can do…So just do that, and have the real coke. OR, quit drinking soda all together. It’s SO fucking bad for you, and it’s gross. The only thing grosser than soda is diet soda. You’re already drinking the grossest thing on the earth. It should be easy to take that last step and just drink something else, right? Have a fucking iced tea, or some water or fuck, man, a beer is better for you than a soda is…whatever. Just saying. OR maybe you just embrace being kind of a fat dude (nothing wrong with it, after all) and drink the fucking real soda and just let shit roar a little bit. Confidence is what will get you laid. Not six pack abs, and let’s be honest, diet soda isn’t helping you achieve either one of those things anyway.
Now, the much more horrendous offender is the slim guy drinking diet coke. The fat dude at least has a reason. Society shames him for his weight and he just feels like he has to look like he’s putting forth a little effort because he feels like motherfuckers like you and me are judging him every time he consumes anything. You? What’s your excuse? You had BETTER be the son of the dude who invented diet coke. That’s the ONLY excuse that flies, skinny guy drinking diet coke. THE ONLY ONE. Okay, maybe if you’re diabetic or something…I don’t exactly know how that works, but look…your choices are the same as fat dude’s choices, but let’s talk man to man for a sec, kay? That stuff tastes like dogpiss. I know it does. It’s revolting. You’re drinking it why? You just couldn’t possibly have the full flavored coke? Your wife would kill you? It makes you jumpy? It’s just too much? You didn’t get skinny by cutting corners?
News flash asshole! DIET COKE IS CUTTING CORNERS! YOU SOUND AND LOOK PATHETIC WITH YOUR STUPID LADY DRINK. There is no excuse that makes it okay (aside from, like I said before, the diet coke legacy thing and possibly the diabetes thing pending a little research), just fucking drink the regular shit or switch to dignity and order a whiskey. Jeez.
Okay, what was I saying before that? Oh right, how I’m wearing next to nothing. WELL, actually, long story short, I’m writing this at night this time, so I don’t have to figure out how to rearrange all my time, because, as you may recall, tomorrow morning I’ll be sleeping in. SO, I know the question, what am I wearing, you know, since it’s night?
Well, I’ve got a wine cork in my ass and my dick stuffed into a diet coke can. It’s pretty masculine, in a Bowie-esque expectation destroying kind of way. Yeah.
Oh yeah. I’m playing a show. I’m gonna talk about this a lot because I’d love you all to go check out what it is that I do. Did you know I’m in a band? No, really. I’m a musician. However, this show isn’t going to feature my band. It’s gonna be just me. Just me? Well, not JUST me. It’s gonna be just me, followed by just dan (he’s also in a band called the Alkaline Trio) and just dan will be followed by just tom, who is in a band called Against Me! The show is taking place at café 11 in St. Augustine, Fla. On April tenth. Easter weekend bitches. Come get me jesus, you bastard. I heard your parents weren’t even married…Yeah, that’s your god I’m talking about, losers. Anyway, yeah, it’s gonna be great. What will my setlist comprise? Who knows? I think there will definitely be at least one new (and never before performed) Lawrence Arms song and Dan and I briefly discussed getting together to do a song or two…hmmm. What could that mean? Also, I’m going to describe toms balls in detail, and I’m going to draw his entire junk drawer from memory on a big sheet of butcher paper a la dimitri martin. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be the single greatest show on earth. Probably. Uh…you should go. Who cares if it’s far away? I’m going, you fucking baby. Ladies, uh, showing your tits won’t get you in free, but it will sure brighten the general mood, so consider it. Dudes, same goes for your sacks.
PS…He only slept until 730. Sigh. The dream is dead.