diss!!

my favorite joke:

"Tell your mom to stop calling."

"I think that stripper really liked me!"

This past week and weekend was a maelstrom of depravity. It started out easy going enough, but the devil is in the details. I'm giving my chemistry a rest for the next week... an opportunity to rest and replenish itself.

Easy:
Tuesday I was out until 12:30 at a fundraiser for battered women of Chicago. All proceeds help fund this local hiding spot.

Wednesday I was up smoking and drinking beer and playing cards until 1:30.

Thursday was a special night of me and that crazy girl Sarah avoiding the typical Chicago St Patrick's day riff raff for the dark confines of the Lincoln Tap Room and Lennox Lounge. At one point I walked back to the men's room and let a manic 23 year old girl cut ahead of me because the ladies room was locked. Three minutes later she approached me at the bar with Sarah and was grabbing at me and thanking me for my kindness. Sarah told me "I can't talk to people on cocaine." We drank a lot of vodka and toasted her graduation from beauty college. She mentioned that she'd spent the day hot waxing an overweight fag's back and chest for an upcoming "trip to Miami with friends." I'd spent the day tracking down a Chinese translation service. I was home by 3 a.m.

Hard:
Work was a bitch all day on Friday. I was so fuckin tired. I was useless. Friday night I had plans to meet up with my friend Matt and go to a party for a 27 year old girl I work with at a small place in Wicker Park. I got home around 5:30, and laid down around 6 p.m. I slept through the 8 p.m. alarm I'd set and woke up at 10:45 p.m. to my phone ringing. Matt had been trying to reach me since 9 p.m. He was at a bar, so he was alright, so I went back to sleep.

Easy:
I woke up around 9:30 a.m. on saturday and felt like a $1000 bill. The clarity! The energy! Full recharge. My friend Rick called me and drove his bike up to my place. Saturday was sunny/partly cloudy and 50 degrees (this is warm for March for Chicago). We started out with a smoke and a coffee. I kicked Rick's ass at a game of foosball. We discussed my idea for a cable access show called Foos the Boss.

Foos The Boss:
Shot with three cameras, the show chronicles "great unseen games in basements and single 31 year old's third story apartments." Each show consists of 30 minutes of intense foosball action and a weekly music pick (that will be mixed in to the final edit for full surround sound). Example: my first episode pick is Queens of the Stone Age: Rated R. Rick said that he'd have to go with Black Sabbath. All verbal intimidation and bad sportsmanship is recorded and encouraged.

What a winning idea.

Easy:
Rick and I rode bikes up to Evanston and around Northwestern University. Rick said that he knew a kid who went to Northwestern and became an asshole. I reminded Rick that because his friend had attended Northwestern, that he was now smarter than Rick, because he went to Northwestern. Rick agreed with that sound argument. I didn't see any good looking girls anywhere and all of the "men" looked like pussies. George Bush should draft the top 25% of each class of each of the Ivy league and elitest schools like Northwestern for his Iraq jerk off. He could justify it by calling for a need to "further cut the nation's next generation of intelligence to ensure the preservation of the Republican Party's re-electoral-ation."

Anyways, Rick and I rode back to my place, smoked, Rick lost at chess and then had to go home for his evening's plans. While he was loading his bike into the backseat of his car I got another idea for a cable access show. This one would involve watching people try to pack large objects into small spaces. There would be a timer in the lower right hand of the screen and no obscenities would be edited out.

Hard:
Last October I spent an evening in the suburbs with a crew of exceptional high school graduates ("stop bragging"). Saturday night I made a return visit to Mike's house of drugs, porn and wrecked lives. This time it was an occasion to celebrate "Dom's birthday." Dom might be 35, but then again, he might be 42. Last time we saw Dom he was working as "a driver" (in this crew "a driver" drives strippers to bachelor parties, and is the guy holding the cash, usually a foot-long metal mag-lite flashlight, and on occasion, a concealed handgun), this time Dom is a roommate at the house and a plumber.

We met up at a huge bar for suburban trash that featured a dead-on Journey cover band. The night's party included a dozen Italian stereotypes and half a dozen off-duty strippers. The bar sucked, so everyone went over to Mike's house. My friend Dave (my connection to this scene) didn't want to stay, so he offered to come pick me up in the morning. I only get to visit hell and the lost souls that lurk there every so often, so I elected to stay.

Dave's friend Mike is the consumate host (think Larry Flint without the wheelchair or the money), and for some reason has taken a liking to me... pushing sluts in my direction (always the bottom tier of the the sluts present... the top tier are always busy receiving attention), offering me Cuban cigars, handing me chemicals for free, showing me the newest additions to his automatic weapon collection. I told him that I liked his FUBU velvet warm up suit and wanted one for myself. He told me to get him my measurments.

The first conversation I got into was with this super fuckin cute Italian girl named Angela. She was about 5'2", small and curved. She seemed articulate and had a good sense of humor. I was starting to wonder what she was doing amongst this scene of drugged whores and losers, until she started talking about how she was a stewardess and then mentioned that she was also a dancer. And then she told me that she was a lesbian, and that she had no interest in men.

OK, moving on...

The next girl that I got to talking to a bit was this super fucking hot 5'10" blonde with a penthouse figure and totally tight aerobicized body and naturally beautiful face named Jennifer. She was into me for real for about 20 minutes, but then the chemicals washed away whatever lingering attraction was there.

There's a cottage industry set up for lonely men wondering HOW to land a hot woman or a model or cocktail waitress or a stripper. Let me give away the secret right now (this will also work on anyone in the service industry): If you want a hot woman or a model or a cocktail waitress or a stripper hang out with you, you have to have cocaine. That's it.

One recurring thing I found with each beautiful trashy woman I talked to is that they all had some serious bad luck and bad shit going on in their lives. They had 10 year old kids with diabetes... they had 14 year old sons sneaking little girls into the house... they were still rocking hard at 8 a.m. with scumbag men grabbing their bodies, porn on the TV, and available chemicals on the dining room table.

Although I was publicly welcomed by the house's owner Mike, I still felt a need to keep alert regarding the other men wandering around on chemicals (and the fact that there were maybe a dozen guns in the house), there was a special alpha male/aggresion thing in the air, and I felt the need to keep an eye on a couple of them. One was a car salesman who had this cocaine faggot thing going on when he showed up at 2:30 with two just off duty strippers, but then began demonstrating flying roundhouse kicks and giving me the evil eye. Fucking weird.

By 8:30 I'd placed two calls to Dave to come pick me up. I had to get out of there, I was totally spent and growing depressed, the sun was out, the air was stinking and thick with smoke... it was the waiting station to hell. Jennifer (the hot tall blonde) asked me where I was going with my jacket on. I told her that I was going to go home in the city. She was bouncing from a recent bump. Smiled, and was whisked away by a coked up 30 year old car salesman who turned on a low grade techno disc and wanted to grind.

I got the fuck out of there.

the Bush administration produces news stories

"The Bush administration, rejecting an opinion from the Government Accountability Office, said last week that it is legal for federal agencies to feed TV stations prepackaged news stories that do not disclose the government's role in producing them.

That message, in memos sent Friday to federal agency heads and general counsels, contradicts a Feb. 17 memo from Comptroller General David M. Walker. Walker wrote that such stories -- designed to resemble independently reported broadcast news stories so that TV stations can run them without editing -- violate provisions in annual appropriations laws that ban covert propaganda."

- The Washington Post

so, this is state-sponsored news that doesn't have to admit that it's propaganda, huh?

since when did the red states vote for red china media?

red states: good thinking.

--

my republican mother's response:

this is awful, isn't it. between the current gov't manufactoring it's own news and the media stars created by the moguls of ABC, NBC and CBS who are all left wing democrats, the average person has a very hard time getting unbiased news.

--

hmmm, ok. not based at all in reality, but republicans don't want to know the truth anyways. they have the ideology and the vision in their head, and anything that counters that (line of shit), should be discredited or rejected or declared some kind of goddamn left-wing democrat plot.

my response:

everybody loses.

who says that the talking heads at network are left wing democrats? seems to me that the hail storm against dan rather running the story on george w. bush deserting the national guard was a bit severe... especially considering that george w. bush deserted the national guard.

--

retort? silence.

Good God, I'm pregnant

Every morning my hotmail account consists of 11 spam solicitations for lower mortgage (I rent), new credit card (I've got that covered), a larger manhood (I'm carrying around the equivalent of a baby's arm), 5 or 6 forwards or real messages from friends, and at least 3 forwards sent by my mother after 11 p.m. the night before.

They're never any good. They're either bashing the Clinton's (still? that's like sooo 1998), or republican moral superiority chest beating, or one of the countless thousand piece of shit chain forwards promising good fortune if you annoy 10 to 15 other friends by forwarding.

This is coming from a college graduate.

Anyways, she finally forwarded a good one. Here it is:

A college class was told they had to write a short
story in as few words as possible. The short story
had to contain the following three things:

(1) Religion (2) Sexuality (3) Mystery.

There was only one A+ paper in the entire
class. Below is the A+ short story:
----------------------------------------------------
Good God, I'm pregnant. I wonder who did it.

has-been expo coming to chicago

I caught "Caddyshack" on HBO last night and recalled that Lacy Underall (Cindy Morgan) was the hottest woman I'd ever seen naked when I was 10 years old. Then she co-starred in "Tron" and I knew that I had to have her.

Today I did a google search found that Cindy Morgan is an old lady. However, she's also made a part time career out of being a has-been and occasionally makes appearances at expo-shows for has-beens.

As luck would have it there's a has-been expo coming to rosemont in April! http://www.hollywoodcollectorshow.com/Rose.htm No shit! And it only costs $10 to get in and stare at:

Scott Schwartz

Barbara Moore

Golden Globe Award Nominee Lorenzo Lamas

Tiffany

Saundra Taylor

Ed Lauter

Noel Neill

Lynda Cornell

Elvira

Brande Roderick

Dolores Del Monte (Miss March '54) (that was only FIFTY-ONE years ago)

unfortunately, Cindy Morgan won't be at this one, so I'll have to stalk her sometime later in the future.

oh yeah, if you want Ed Lauter (or any of the other "celebrity" autographs) it's gonna cost you.

Saturday April 16th, 2005 10AM - 5PM
Sunday April 17th, 2005 10AM - 4PM

it's only ten bucks! let's go!

Corey Feldman's 30th Birthday Party

This last weekend I drove my sister and I up to wisconsin to have dinner with my parents and some uncles and aunts in Lake Geneva. Tolls in Illinois are now $.80 if you don't have the I-PASS. If you do have the I-PASS, it's $.40. I guess they want a committment.

Anyways, on the ride up you could barely hear the ipod on the shitty stereo speakers with the windows down from all the cigarette smoke, so we were forced to smoke and chat.

Oh yeah: sidenote, the saturn is living out its final days in my posession. I'm selling that hunk of plastic ASAP. I'm sick of the inconvenience and the random - for no real reason - $50 ticket I find under the wiperblade when I walk out to the car once every 10 days. Enough. Besides, I figure that with the 11 year old fiberglass car gone it'll be more difficult for a girl to gauge how poor I am. And I can finally get some. I've been catching myself looking at ugly girls on the L lately. It's becoming a problem.

So anyways, me and my sister were talking about Michael Jackson and Corey Feldman and my sister asked me to re-tell the story about the time I went to Corey Feldman's 30th birthday party in L.A. I guess it's worth writing about here.

In July '01 I flew out to L.A. to visit my friend Lope. Lope is one of my favorite people in the entire world. That motherfucker has lived le experience. He was second in his high school class, an eagle scout, when we were in college he was one of the best rowers on our crew, grew a massive strain of mushrooms, drove a mid-70's Lincoln Continental, and was such a goddamn good looking motherfucker that he got signed as a male model with Elite and dropped out of college to make more cash in six months than his father made that year. So I'm back at school studying worm phylums at 2 in the morning and Lope is fucking hot 19 year olds in Miami. Son of a bitch.

So, a couple years pass, Lope eventually returns to school and finishes his degree and then moves west. First to Phoenix, then to Los Angeles, getting an assistant's job in the publicity department at 20th Century Fox.

Immediately I benefitted from this because he started to send me free screener DVDs in packages of 20. I started to get them every other week. In total I think I got around 90. Cool shit too, like copies of Predator, X-Men, Aliens, Fight Club, and best of all, the Bruce Lee box set.

So, with me coming out, Lope started to look around to see what we could do over the visit. Corey Feldman used to do a lot of business with Fox, so his publicist would always shoot releases to the studio. Most of the studio considers him a child star wash up, so the open invite to his 30th birthday party at the Key Club was universally panned.

Lope knew that I'd "get it", so he got us on the list. I soon figured out that being "on the list" meant standing in line and watching fat sweating dudes pull up in long cars with hot 18 year olds and cut ahead of us. We finally got inside and looked around. I didn't see any celebrities at all. Not even Corey Haim. I bought Lope a drink. We drank Maker's Mark at $12 a drink. Holy shit!

Soon, Corey's band Truth Movement hit the stage (see, this was also a showcase for Corey's band) Corey is the shirtless front man. He's got the 5'8" body of a 15 year old and the face of a 40 year old weathered drug addict. Truth Movement is like the E-Street band minus the powerful front man. They're not bad, but Corey sucks balls. At one point the band started to play Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean", and Corey broke down to his Michael Jackson dance impersonation... the hat, the glove, the moonwalk... I looked around the crowd and saw smiles. It was straight up fucking weird.

Finally, Corey grabbed the mic and said "the house wants us to wrap it up so they can play their tech-no... but we still got a few songs left in us, so fuck the tech-no!" The band broke out another song, and kept playing until the guitarist could tell that the house had cut the power on his guitar, so he just walked off stage. Then the drummer noticed that his power was cut, but he kept playing. Finally, they cut the sound on Corey's mic, and it took him a couple seconds to figure that out, then they cut the lights, and he walked off stage.

Dissed on your birthday! Ho!

caddyshack

I caught half of Caddyshack on HBO last night. Goddamn is that movie fuckin funny. It was better than I remembered. It was one of those movies that I saw a hundred times in the '80's after my parents got our first VCR. It had the first scene of tits on a hot girl that I recall seeing as a kid. And then the same girl appeared in Tron. Holy shit.

This actress, Cindy Morgan, was easily the muse for my first stiffie. This must have been my first mental evidence that I'm not gay. I suppose that little 10 year old fags can look at Cindy Morgan and appreciate her beauty, but not feel a real drive to want to get a piece of that. (that must be the division: wanting to horse around with either Lacey Underall or Tony.)

31 is the new 25

yesterday I turned 31.

31 is different from 30 because when you turn 30 it's a milestone and you've turned the corner from twenty-something jagoff to adult.

when I turned 30 I went to Los Angeles and misbehaved for five days. oh young 30 year old!

for 31 I got drunk with some friends and played foosball and video games and chess and then went to a bar and smoked cigarettes and drank german beer. cutter gave me some super glue. I've been needing super glue.

it was a pretty good 31. now I just want to lose my virginity.

please, God! Pleeease?