Please Send Help!

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Question

What does it mean when an increasingly high number of my friends start popping up in that fucking "Boris + Doris" column?

Also: Patrick McIlheran is a complete tool.

Also also: I'll be attending a wedding and a Civil War re-enactment this weekend. Alcohol will be a factor; sufficient sleep will not. What could possibly go wrong?

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Monday, October 01, 2007

Gary

There are good days, and then there are days when you discover your band (Holy Mary Motor Club) is being referred to as "Solely Gary Scroter Rub" on numerous websites.

I'm not saying this constitutes a bad day, mind you. I'm saying this makes for a really good day.

So thank you, "Eric" of the Milwaukee Shows Myspace page, you've turned what could have been another Monday night spent wallowing in a particularly heavy funk of post-show depression into a magical evening spent picturing a man named Gary quietly rubbing his scrotum in the privacy of his own home. Though your synopsis of our show with the Black Lips last Saturday clocks in at a mere three words ("This show sucks"), you couldn't have made me any happier even if you had used all the words in China. Or something like that. Cheers!

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Saturday, April 14, 2007

S/T

Last night was wrong, wrong, all wrong: visions of me at 21, sulking home from a bar (Landmark, natch), swearing off city and friends. An attempt at hailing a cab elicited a hearty "GO FUCK YOURSELF!!" from the driver.

For those with a vested interest in my downfall, I can only assure you I'm finally getting what I deserve.

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Monday, February 19, 2007

Chipped

Is there anything more frightening/disturbing than biting into a fucking Snickers bar and losing approximately 1/8 of your front tooth in the process?

So yeah, it's all falling apart. Cheers!

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Thursday, December 14, 2006

Late Night Christmas Television Killed My Dog

In case you hadn't noticed, it's the holiday season, which can mean only one thing: really shitty bands doing really shitty versions of Christmas songs on late night talk shows. Forget about the "from-the-heart" gift cards, the increasingly inebriated families and the Too-Hot-For-TV virgin births: this unfortunate phenomenon is the true sign of the season.

Last night brought not one, but two! of these atrocities, both equally unnecessary, both equally horrific. First up was the always unbearable Tonight Show. When he wasn't busy reading typos from Chinese restaurant menus or sweating his way through another B-lister interview, Jay Leno went to great lengths to make sure our collective psyches were forever scarred by having Twisted Sister perform a not-so-stirring rendition of "Come All Ye Faithful." Now don’t get me wrong: I enjoy Twisted Sister as much as the next unemployed, 28 year-old college graduate. I enjoy their videos (featuring that one guy from Milwaukee) and usually find lead singer Dee Snider one of the more passable commentators on the many horrors that VH1 calls "original programming." Even the band's performance of a beloved holiday standard was inoffensive at worst (basically a straight lift of "We're Not Gonna Take It"). No, the thing that really chilled my bones was the sight of five 50-something men dressed up as, well...Twisted Sister. When I say "dressed up," I mean exactly that: instead of looking like an actual band, the group looked more like a bunch of out-of-work dish washers on their way to an ill-concieved "80s metal" theme party being thrown at a bowling alley. Snider actually looked semi-passable – all makeup and tasseled shoulder pads – but the other guys...yikes. I'm pretty sure the lead guitarist was wearing a wig, and the drummer looked eerily like a Chicago Bears' third-stringer from 1985 (remember: the Bears aren't here to start no trouble). Everyone looked suitably tired, however, and the audience responded in kind. Best moment: watching the roughed-up-looking bass player shake hands with 12 year-old hellspawn Dakota Fanning.

Not to be outdone, the otherwise reliable – though forever inessential – Aimee Mann dropped by Late Night with Conan O’Brien and pulled out all the stops with a really, REALLY shitty version of that one song from How The Grinch Stole Christmas. You know, the "I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole, Mr. Grinch" song. Now, for whatever reason, I've always hated all things Dr. Seuss (I know, I know, it's akin to hating kitties and ponies), and this particular rendition did nothing to quell that hate. Complete with a narrator, sound effects and at least one Penn brother, the only thing more disturbing was Mann's expressionless, recently tightened scare-mask that passes for her face these days. Oh well, she used to be kind of hot...

...Which reminds me, here's a complete list of female talk show hosts - past and present - that I find strangely attractive:

Megan Mullally
Rikki Lake

Please note that Oprah is not included in this exhaustive list. Why? Because even on a good day, Oprah’s mug is downright terrifying. I spend at least an hour a day weeping for Stedman.

Also: it’s fricken’ 50 degrees outside and I broke my toe. Happy holidays.

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