Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Monday, April 07, 2008
“Jacking off in the bathroom doesn’t count as talking to a chick.”

All right, now Accounting’s just screwing with my head, because my check totally came in today. That’s not a BAD thing, per se, especially right this second, but there are in fact a few things in my world that need to be consistent, and my money is one of them.

As promised, here are the pictures from my drunken night with Roger Clyne, except, there won’t be too many pics of me because I look retarded in most of them. But everyone else is fair game!

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Awwwww, my first Shiner of the evening.
At $5.50 a pop. Yeah, Joe’s on Weed might
be a great bar, but fuck those prices, man.
Also, whatever that thing is in the lefthand
corner, it’s not a scrote. I think.

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You can’t see him real well, but this is the drummer from
opening act, Georgia. Great band, but I kept wondering if
the drummer had some sort of deformity that glued his head
to his right shoulder.

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Hey, everybody! It’s Lenny and our ol’
pal Opie, wearing Buck Daddy t-shirts like
they planned it or something, which they
totally DID.

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The picture I really wanted to use would’ve gotten me killed
by my seester, so here’s one of her with her pal. I think she
looks a little more like me in this shot—if I were blonde, anyway.

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First shot of our man of the evening, looking very Johnny
Depp-ish in his, what is that, a porkpie hat? I don’t know.

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Such a pretty, pretty man.

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He’s singing to me, you know.

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Lenny, his lovely wife and, buried under her
coat, their first baby boy, John Jackson --
or Jackson John. They haven’t quite decided,
but they’re going to call him “Jack” either way.

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Requisite sexy flipping of the hair.

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Sigh.

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If you ever need proof that no
hairspray on this earth can make my
hair stay straight in humidity, here it is.
And I wonder why my head’s cocked so high?

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Oh wait, that’s right: Because THIS a-hole kept
FARTING in front of us the whole time. Do yourselves
a favor: Memorize the back of his head and RUN if
he’s ever in front of you. You’ll thank me.

Right around now, Opie reappeared after a length of time that HE said he spent talking to “some chick” but Girlie put him in his place with the entry headline, and I started trying to take more band shots. That’s when my seester nabbed my camera and said, “I’ll do it.” I’m sure you’ll note quite quickly who the pro here is:

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Yeah.

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Steve!

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Such gorgeous hands.

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(blinks) WHOA.

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Girlie and Lenny sing gleefully.

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Little Holly and DDDenise (as in “designated driver,” pervs!),
the other part of our quartet. I covet Little Holly’s hair.

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Don’t get what he’s having.

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I ... have NO idea.

More post-show wrap-up later; need to finish another story.


Posted by Broad7:11 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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