Jesus, I almost forgot about you guys today. I was working on this song, and time just kind of slipped away from me. Now it’s after noon and I still have all sorts of bullshit to do…I have to contest a ticket and call the pediatrician and fun shit like that. Woo! Also, I have to go….look, that’s not important. It’s, frankly dull. I’m bored just writing it. Well, I guess that those of you out there who like my band can take heart in knowing that I’m getting close to finishing a pretty cool song. That’s something, right? Sigh.
The weekend was nice. I have a friend who rocks a pretty unrepentantly savage program of wastedness who turned thirty this weekend and I swear, I think he made the whole city hung over through the sheer force of his own revelry. Last night, every single person who came into my bar looked like they’d been slapped silly with a bottle of nyquill and a bag of cheap blow the night before. So many chicken wings were consumed. So many embarrassing moments were silently remembered and cringed at. So many people didn’t show up at all and I just kind of stood there doing nothing for hours on end.
Well, as much as I love the idea that one guy’s party agenda can make a whole city hung over, I think the real reason was mothers day. Everyone had to get up and hang with their moms, and hangovers were therefore not properly dealt with.
Fuck. Look. I can’t just be explaining this to you people. We’ve got things to do. We’re trying to turn this blog into an interactive community and as I go through these comments, I gotta say, I’m a little stumped…Okay, let’s give it a try.
Let’s see I’m going through these now…Have I ever jacked off at work? Dude, I lived in a van on the road for a job…so yeah. For sure. Right into chris’s socks. He loves it.
Ah, now we’re talking. This is a really nice comment:
“I accidentally jizzed inside a 30 year old single mom on friday night...it would have been better had it been on or around the tit area. She was still really nice though.”
Now, that’s a great story, but also a bit of a pickle, because well, if she’s a mom, you know she’s fertile, not terribly into abortions and at least somewhat down with kids in general, AND due to her age, she’s probably fully aware that her fecundity is, like the browning leaves on an autumn oak, withering and you know, dying…so, hey, I’d say, nice work. Awesome, in fact. Worst case scenario, please consider the name Brendan, or Bad Sandwich if it’s a girl. Beautiful name for a little girl.
Someone wanted me to write about neil. Neil is the drummer of my band and he’s fucking goofy as shit. One time, we were at bob evans following a show in St. Louis the night before. I ordered the cheddar potato soup. Neil ordered the eggs benedict. When the waitress came, she placed my soup in front of neil by mistake and he picked up his spoon to dig in. When I said, “hey man, are you gonna eat my soup?” he said, without a hint of irony or humor, “Oh, sorry. I thought this was eggs benedict.”
Now, this is strange for several reasons. Firstly, who the fuck thinks eggs benedict comes in a bowl or looks like soup, right? It’s a common dish. It’s described on the menu. It’s, not to belabor the point, NOT SOUP. Secondly, who orders something off a menu that they don’t even have a general concept of? I mean, I’m as adventurous as the next guy, but how do you even get to the point where you decide on ‘eggs benedict’ without the benefit of having even the remotest idea of what it is? I’ve been to sushi places where I don’t have any idea what anything on the menu is, and I ask for recommendations, because, well, how the fuck do you make a choice with NO information at all? Right? I know…like I said, goofy as shit, man.
Anyway, this story is 100% true. It was a while ago, though. And I’m pretty sure that Neil’s an old hat at eggs benedict now. Yup.
Everything else seems to be about jizz, Candice, or some combination of the two, except for the guy who wants to hear about the broadways. That’s my old band…We were um…unpopular in our time. Let’s put it that way. We actually made a kid cry in California because he came to see us based on the band some of us had been in previously (a ska band called slapstick). While we were on stage, I saw him ask the door guy when the ex slapstick band was gonna play. The doorguy pointed at us and said “that’s them now.” The kid burst into tears. Ha! Dumb kid. Stupid expectations. They’ll burn you every time.