( 10:48 PM )
The following letter was found crumpled up in McKinley Hall:
Dear Lisa,
Did you know that your name doesn’t rhyme with anything? Just thought I’d write a quick note before my captors let me go. So how’s the synchronized swimming going? Did you find a partner yet? Hey my basketball league for short people is going really well. Been throwing up much? Hope so. That acne on my butt finally cleared up so I can get that Life Sucks tattoo on my ass. Sorry about my penmanship, but remember that I’m tied up with fishing line and I’m doing the best I can—-hey are you still retaining water? The television here has been on that Spanish channel for days. I think I’m learning Spanish!!
Habla later on,
Kristin
Song of the Day:
“War Pigs” Black Sabbath 1970
::
0 comments
( 11:59 PM )
The following question appeared in “Who’s News,” a weekly USA Today Sunday paper supplement.
Jane Severance from Denver writes:
“I’m glad Queer Eye For The Straight Guy’s Thom Filicia has taken over for Kirstie Alley as Pier 1 spokesperson. Those commercials did her no favors. And she’s gotten so heavy. What’s going on?”
Dear Jane,
Here’s what going on— you’re an insensitive imbecile who’s actually written a letter to a national publication pointing out that Kirstie Alley has packed on some extra weight. But stranger yet, you seem to give a crap who Pier 1 chooses as a spokesperson. Hmm, if I were sitting around all day with nothing to do, I suppose I’d want to know why Kirstie Alley is so fat. I mean really, what gives?
The Good American #32
Just as Kramer had the conviction not to wear an AIDS ribbon during an AIDS walk, the Good American should not be judged for refusing to wear a stupid “I Voted” sticker on Election Day.
::
0 comments
( 11:15 PM )
Slim Jim
Why is it
that almost every day
there appears a Slim Jim wrapper
strewn in my front yard?
I pick them up
but they come back anyway
fatass punk kids
probably leave ‘em there on purpose.
Song of the Day:
“Family Man” Black Flag 1984
::
0 comments
( 11:04 PM )
Weekend in review
Note: The names have been changed (or maybe they haven’t, who knows, it’s a total mystery).
Friday night began with a confusing series of phone calls over simple travel plans to James’ house, where six of us would meet for a guy’s night out. After much hullabaloo we all arrived safely around 9:00 PM. Three of us were celebrating birthdays so after a few drinks John gave each birthday boy a porno that he had carefully selected for each. As they unwrapped their nicely wrapped tapes, John explained that the clerk at Lusty Life told him that Asian guys/white women tapes were really hard to find.
Around 11:00 PM we loaded ourselves into Greg’s new family minivan with only minor verbal squabbling, minimal pushing & shoving, and Walter almost losing his hand in the power sliding doors. After much debate we wound up at L&M Bowling on Merchants Street near Hitchcock’s bar. None of us had been there before, but we were pleasantly surprised with the small neighborhood feel. Eight lanes, a bar, and bathrooms, what more could you need? Overall it was a nice experience except for the poorly stocked jukebox (aged and tired rock basics) and a couple of stubborn lane jams. We loved the place though and vowed to return again soon. Right before we left John picked up a jacket near our table and then asked everyone if they were forgetting this. He even jokingly tried it on for size. No one claimed it so we gave it to a woman at the shoe counter who said she’d hang it up.
After leaving the alley, we argued again about seating positions and shoved back in the van. We were well on our way across town blaring some Fu Manchu, when Walter casually announced that he left his jacket at the bowling alley. In disbelief we all yelled at him for the stoner move and lost precious time retrieving the jacket. Yes, the very same jacket John had asked everyone about.
Finally arriving at side-by-side bars located on the Genesee river-- McFadden’s (an empty, sterile bar) and Tiki Bob’s (a sophomoric low-rise jean wearing meat market), we immediately proceeded to lose Jimmy “the washed-up surfer,” paid too much for weak drinks, and endured the shittiest DJ music on the planet. Once Jimmy was found, we left and went to the Toasted Head on St. Paul Street. Things get hazy from here, but I do remember some terrible karaoke—“Pour Some Sugar on Me” was particularly annoying. Great place though. Very late night, Arrived home around 4:00 AM.
Saturday: Mowed lawn for first time this year, and practiced with softball team in preparation for Tuesday’s night’s season opener in a new “no fun league.” No drinking, swearing, dogs, etc. (the league rules listed 40 don'ts). Was supposed to go see Deke Dickerson and the Hi-Risers at the Bug Jar that night, but I was mildly sunburned from softball and just too exhausted from Friday’s debauchery.
Sunday: Attended Bop Shop’s bi-annual record show at Village Gate, and scored gorgeous vinyl copies of The Last Poets self-titled album from 1970 (angry proto-rap), Lounge at Cinevox Vol.1 (60’s & 70’s pop euro-sleaze), and This Funky Thing (obscure 70’s soul comp). Took shower before I went unlike a few scumbags who chose not to. Tons of good stuff there, and I showed some incredible shopping self-control. The $15 dollar Rolling Stones carnival mirror with wood frame was tempting, as was a bootleg DVD of Wendy O. Williams (a Rochester native) shooting ping-pong balls from her private areas.
Song of the Day: "Sferic Waves" Man or Astro-man? 1995
The Good American #27: Punching an American Flag in certain circumstances is acceptable, but stuffing it in a jar of urine is frowned upon.
|
