--I was at the library yesterday working on a few things, and
listening to a 2002 Phil Hendrie show through headphones.Seated in front of me was a woman in her mid-50s, sporting a
Hillary Clinton jumpsuit o’ power.When
I arrived she asked if she could use my pen and, of course, I obliged.
Then one of Phil’s characters, Margaret Gray, got into an argument
with a Southern woman (a person Margaret repeatedly referred to as
“Ellie Mae”), and I started laughing and couldn’t stop.Before hanging up, the caller yelled, “Up yours, bitch!”And the
whole thing was hilarious.
I’d almost forgotten about Jumpsuit, when I realized she was
standing right in front of me with a scowl on her face.She handed my pen back, and spat, “Are you enjoying
yourself?”Just really
pissed-off and venomous.
I considered this for a second, and answered, “Yeah, I guess I
am.”And she said, “Well,
I’m glad,” packed up all her shit, and stormed out.
--Yesterday I took our
youngest son to school, and when I returned there was trash strewn
across the lawn.Thursday is
trash day, and the maggot-masher had come and gone while I was at the
indoctrination center.And I have no idea how they managed to sling garbage all over the place.
Perhaps a bag burst, the guy got pissed and gave it a kick?I don’t know.But I
spent the next fifteen minutes bent at the waist, unspooling every
cuss word in my arsenal, and picking up nasty-ass fully-saturated
grossness.At one point I was
holding a length of celery with a mustard-smeared coffee filter
hanging off the end.
And I can’t have that.
--Have you ever noticed that
if you eat a Twix bar immediately after brushing your teeth, it tastes
a lot like those old Chef Boyardee pizzas you make from a kit?I didn’t either, until today.
--Check this
out.We need some fresh new derogatory rage-inducing hand gestures
here in America, as well.We’ve been getting by on the old standards for far too long.
don’t you agree?So
let’s get to work...
--Last week I told you about
my very first iTunes purchase, a full-length download of the new (and
fanfuckingtastic!) Ray
Davies album.Well, as it turns
out, it was one of the wisest decisions I’ve made lately.
A couple of days ago I found this posted at a music blog: Now here's the bad news, at least for American music lovers:
although Working
Man's Cafe was released last week in the U.K. and throughout
Europe, Davies has yet to secure a deal with an American label. (V2
Records, which issued the CD, recently shut down its North American
division.)
While
a free version was included in last Sunday's London Times — yes,
this album was GIVEN AWAY FOR FREE to every Times reader in the U.K.,
some 1.5 million copies – we Americans can only buy it as an import.
It was offered for about 48
hours on iTunes last week, and then mysteriously disappeared. What
gives?
I can only conclude that
Ray Davies is still his usual prickly, slippery self, playing
some kind of complex game with the schizo music biz. When I think of
all those unappreciated giveaway CDs landing in British rubbish bins,
while American Kinks fans can't even get their hand on a copy –
well, it's so mystifying.
If
I’d hesitated, hemmed or
hawed, I would now be shit outta luck, as they say.I wouldn’t have access to one of the best albums of the year,
and would be a sad, sad man – for more reasons than usual.
--I need a haircut, but the
radically tattooed and motor-mouthed girl who usually does the deed
has likely moved on by now.Last
time I went, she told me she was working out a two-week notice, and
would soon be relocating to a fancy-pants salon in downtown Scranton.
It’s some joint with a nonsensical one-word name, like BAG, or MILK,
or GRASS, or something.She
invited me to follow her there, but I just can’t see myself
jacked-up in a hydraulic chair at a place called BAG.Ya know?I mean, my
grandfathers would spin in their graves.
So, here we go again…As soon
as I find a good hair-maintenance engineer, they abandon me.And now I’m going to have to suffer through a year of failed
experiments and unsatisfactory service, until I settle on another one.
<Sigh>You don’t miss
your Tattoo Girl, until the well runs dry.
--Somebody sent me a link to a
short excerpt from a porn film the other day, and I’m still laughing
at what I found on the other end of the URL.
It showed a woman out walking her dog, you see.The hound quickly got away from her and ran into the open door
of an RV, inexplicably parked in the middle of a field.The woman went inside, saying “Hello?Hello?” but nobody was there.
She ventured into the bedroom, and found some sort of hilarious
apparatus that featured a flywheel, a driveshaft, and a giant rubber
penis mounted to the end of a pipe.
The next thing you know… her clothes are gone and she’s got that
machine running wide-open.I
mean, it was clicking and clacking, and making sounds like the Phoenixrollercoaster at Knoebels.I
couldn’t believe my eyes.
Wouldn’t most people get the hell out of there, if they happened
upon an abandoned travel trailer with a commercial-grade schlong-driver
inside?Well, not this young
lady...
It appeared she could control the speed with a hand-held device, but
rarely brought it down to anything less than full-tilt.Her moans of “pleasure” sounded like they were being
hollered through the back of a box fan, because of the elevated
vibration factor.It was one of
the more ridiculous things I’ve seen to date, and I’ve seen a lot.
No way I’m linking to it.No
way.But I’d like to hear about unintentionally hilarious scenes
in porn films you’ve watched over the years.Everybody’s got to have a few…And let’s try to do it without getting overly
graphic, OK?I’d really appreciate
it.
