I'm gonna live forever!

Wowzers. Six came early today and I was beat. I’m still beat. My baby went down for a nap at 830 and I did too, except that happens to be the exact forty minutes when the garbage trucks are repeatedly backing up outside my house for some ungodly reason. So I just had to lay there with the equivalent of an alarm clock going off, knowing that the next chance I’d have to sleep was not going to be for some time. It’s like when you’re in a hotel and there’s no one in the next room, but the clock radio alarm goes off at six anyway. So you call the desk to bitch, but it takes them like fifteen minutes to get someone up there. Then you’re awake, and pissed and there’s not even really anyone to yell at.
That’s how I feel right now. I’m so fucking tired. My wife says she’s getting sick. I really don’t need to add sick to the list of things I’m going to be this week. I’m already dad, husband, bartender, son, guy in rock band, organizational wizard, blog overlord and fart champion. Sick too? No thank you.
Our practice went well yesterday. We’re all ready for our show at the House of Blues on Friday, oct. 10 (get your tickets while they’re available through ticketmaster) and my baby is being remarkably cool about chilling in his swing while I do this. The only problem that I can really see is that I’m too groggy to write about anything interesting. What are some interesting topics? Sex. Violence. Drugs. Politics(maybe), fame, falls from grace…Huh? That’s like Elvis Presley’s life. Nice. Uh…the baby is getting frustrated. I’m starting to panic. Um, I once new a guy who…no, that’s no good. Oh, this one time I got my dick stuck in…no, man! My mom reads this shit. Come on. Okay, here are some funny things people have said to me. No particular order and every one of these is obviously paraphrased:

“Yeah, I boned her without a rubber, cuz I figured, hey, she’s way more likely to get something from me than the other way around.”

“this is going to sound really racist, because, well, it is”

“You kind of look like that Backstreet boy with the mustache”

(to Shaquile O’neil [really, truly…me and the guy who said this were talking to Shaq]): “How’s it going, big man?”

Okay, I’m realizing something here. Context is key. So, for example, the first one, that’s only funny if you know that the statement is a) being made about a chick my friend picked up in a Georgia Roadhouse and b) probably, somehow still true. For the second one, that’s funny because prefacing racist comments is such turd polish. It’s not really gonna do much, and I appreciate that this person realized it halfway through the statement. It’s also funny because it was said by a super sweet girl who you really wouldn’t expect to say such things. The third one was said to me by my friend Mike when I was cultivating what I thought, erroneously it turns out, was a Burt Reynolds type of thing. I shaved the mustache that day. The last one involves Shaq Fu himself and was said in such a condescending manner by (this hardly needs to be pointed out) someone much, much smaller than Shaq.
Meeting shaq was cool. Him and little Richard are two celebrities who have waved aside their security detail so I could drunkenly stumble up and pretend I actually gave a shit about their respective careers.
Who else have I met who’s famous? Good question Bobby! I went to highschool with Jeremy Sisto, the guy who’s almost good looking enough to have a career in film, but instead got shit out onto the crime procedural show crapheap after playing Elton in Clueless and something on Six Feet Under. I also went to highschool with Jon Duda, who is most famous for his role in Flatliners (the creepy kid, Billy Mahoney) and his role in Prancer (he played the gay elf that was in to piss fetish stuff). Different highschools, just so you know. I didn’t go to the low rent version of FAME academy or anything.
I also went to gradeschool and highschool with the sister from home alone- the “Kevin, you’re such a disease” chick. Um, who else? Little Richard, like I said. He tried to get me into Jesus. I met dead black mayor of Chicago Harold Washington once, and I met Pete Wentz and even got my picture with him! That’s actually true, by the way. Um…fuck. I feel like I’m forgetting someone big. Matthew McConahay was at one of our shows when my band toured Australia, apparently. I didn’t meet him, or even notice he was there, which is weird, since he probably wasn’t wearing a shirt.
I met Gwen Stefani when my old band played with No Doubt as a pregame to a riot in Denver, but she wasn’t famous at the time. I totally banged her too.
Who else? I’m only counting people I’ve actually met here, not just seen. So yeah, McConahay shouldn’t be in there, but that’s just funny right? MATEO! Sheesh, what a dork. Okay, back to the list: Um, Matt Pinfield from 120 minutes. I’ve partied with that guy a bit. I’ve also met uh…those tubby mormon twins from Good Charlotte. Oh, and I met the guy from Sum 41, the drummer. This was good. My friend introduced us and because he’s famous and on TV and shit, I was like “man, we’ve met somewhere before” and he was looking at me like “oh really?” and then I realized who he was and I was like ‘ah, fuck! I’m that dumbass that mistook someone I see on TV as a person I know from my daily doldrums of life. Then I remembered that I HAD met him before. He was trying to bang a friend of mine! SO the day was saved and I looked like a slightly less dipped-in-shit type guy than I would have.
Let’s see, that’s about as low on the totem pole of band guys as I’ll go and still consider a worthwhile story about meeting or knowing someone famous. They gotta be on TV or in the tabloids or something. That guy in Sum 41 is at least the drummer for the guy who’s banging Avril Lavigne (who, actually, I’ve also met. I met her in LA and we talked briefly before she blew me up against the bar in the back of the club, and actually that’s almost the exact same story that I have with Matt Pinfield)
Well, I know all the guys from that Nofx Backstage Passport show. Great show. Kent, man. One time Kent and I saved our friend Jordan from a predatory hooker who wouldn’t take no for an answer at 430 am in a bar in Atlantic City. Jordan was so shaken that he was almost in tears.
Oh, I know those My Chemical Romance dudes just a little bit. Mutual friends, so I don’t REALLY know them, but I think with a little explaining, they wouldn’t call the cops if they caught me on their lawn at night. Also, that guy from New Found Glory. Is he still famous? Nah…never mind.
I still feel like I’m missing someone big. I met David Johansen from the New York Dolls. Neat. He’s real skinny. I fucked him too.
Okay, one more good one and I’m done. For having nothing to write about, this has been a real act of memory calisthenics. Let’s see…I stood next to Bill Maher and Larry David at a bar once, but I didn’t say anything to them. Lemmy was also there. I also saw B Real that night. Uh, fuck, man. Jesus, this is getting hard. Oh shit! Billy Joe from Green Day hugged me once. Then later that night we (and by ‘we’ I mean he and the other guys in Greenday while I stood around, observed from a distance and later added myself into the story, actually) took pictures off the wall in a hotel room, drew dicks on the wall and then put the pictures back up over the dicks. It’s a trick I’ve been doing ever since. Also, I set the alarm for six when I leave. Nah..that sucks. I can’t even joke about that. Sleep’s too important.

Nothing ever happens on Mars.

Well, it only took two months of writing every day, you know, except for the weekends, and it’s happened. I’m all out of things to say. Maybe I’m just tired. The little guy was up screaming from four to six, which has a way of kind of frazzling your brain and scattering your thoughts. I’ve been trying to write something for this class that I have tonight, and I can’t really do that either. It’s like the faucet has dried in my brain.
Yikes. I should take a nap or something. I wish I was comfortable just sitting around and playing video games, because that seems like a nice, mindless exercise, but I’m not. I can’t touch those things as a rule. I feel like I’m wasting my life when video games are on, and I get so antsy that I start to freak out. Watching TV can be the same, especially in the day.
As a general rule, I’m fine with that, since those things actually ARE pretty big life wasters, but every now and then, I’m all tired, full of coffee and sushi and unable to sleep or relax and I wish I could just stop typing for a second and play a little playstation. I can’t though. It’s impossible. I’m actually sweating right now just thinking about it. Jeez.
There are things that guys do that are masculine, that ultimately translate into a sexual energy that they give off. Things like, I don’t know, playing sports or doing construction or carpentry or something….more or less the shit I don’t do. And then, there are things that are so incredibly man-only that they shoot right past masculine and into the realm of ‘never ever been laid or even talked to a woman’. It’s quite the phenomenon. You blow right over “I killed this buffalo myself and built this guitar and now I’m gonna cook and sing for you” into ‘I live in the basement of my mom’s house and you could take my fingerprints by inking up my dick.” Video games fall into this category, along with Star Wars, figurine painting, Dungeons&Dragons, anything involving elves, pornography, comic books, Monty Python, rap metal, anime, toy collecting, fantasy football, fantasy baseball, fantasy novels, Insane Clown Posse, World of Warcraft (which actually falls into about ten of these categories) and anything involving some in depth description of noise frequencies. Anytime the punchline to a joke is “16K”, the people laughing are men; men with big gulps of diet dr. Pepper (no ice) in their hands.
Jesus, my brain feels like concrete today. I would like a Sparks.