• Blogger really effed me yesterday with some sort of mystery ailment. At first it seemed like all Blogger sites weren’t working, but as the day went on and it became clear that I was the intended target of the widespread malfunction – like one of those episodes of “CSI” where someone sets fire to an entire building making it seem like a random event when in reality it was all designed to kill a single person! And here I was all set to disclose what #1 was in the previous post too But the moment is just lost now. Please send all complaining emails to Blogger.
(This is something I’ve actually wanted to do for a while. I don’t know if I have a loyal enough following yet, but eventually I want to institute “Email My Enemies” events where I, along with all of you, coordinate an effort to send bizarre and frightening emails to one of the various big corporations I have issues with. Like a 12:00 noon on a Wednesday we flood Time Warner customer service with emails saying that we woke up this morning and turned on our TV’s and everyone on TV was black. Not like blacked out, but like African American. Everyone on every channel, can they help us with the problem?)
• I find few things funnier than me telling an attorney that I am busy and will have to call him back when the real reason is that my Froot Loops are getting soggy.
• I don’t write about music half as often as I should. I figure either I’m alienating half the people or I’m offending half the people. You know, I stick with the safe topics: quadrupeds, poop, talking ball sacks, etc. But I’m going to make a conscious effort to write about it more because you wouldn’t know it but music is a huge part of who I am. You know, alternative, indie, elmo – I’m all about that.
I’m a big fan of playlists and random shuffles on my iPod. Normally on my way to work in the morning I just play shuffle with my entire library. Well, as a bit of background info, every so often my body goes into fits of insomnia for days ay a time (it’s so awesome) and the past three nights I’ve probably slept a total of nine or ten hours. Needless to say on my way to work this morning I was bordering on death, or at the very least “I had a fifth of vodka with breakfast this morning.” So I get on the train, hit play on my iPod and just zone out. At the tail end of my commute, I get an absolutely stellar random three song set that culminates with me walking out of the Wall St. subway station into the Spring like morning and it was nothing short of a religious experience. The trio was “Fresh Feeling” by Eels, “Your Ex-Lover is Dead” by Stars finished off with “History of Lovers” by Calexico and Iron & Wine. So if you ever want to know what passes as an orgasmic experience for me
call me up and wear something slutty listen to these songs in a row.
• 100 Things About Me #6: I hate being wasteful, to the point where I have accumulated about four boxes of bandaids and I refuse to throw any of them away even though there would have to be a turf war in my apartment for me to need that many bandaids. There’s no real additional exposition for this one.
• I’m headed to the opening of a new show on Broadway tonight called “Well” (also linked in sidebar). My friend John works for the company producing the show, also the company that produces the Tony awards. I’ll let everyone know how the show is and, if it’s good enough, maybe I’ll even talk John into letting me have some sort of contest to give away a pair of tickets. (Your welcome, John!)
Of course I’ll let you know if it sucks too. If there’s one thing I’m completely truthful about, it’s criticism of dramatic works of art. Well that and ugly handbags. Always those two things.
• A few weeks ago I got an email from Esquire magazine, of which I am a subscriber. The email basically said “We want to give you something just for the hell of it!” and I got to choose from a few small gifts, one of which was a deck of playing cards with hot female celebrities on them. If I remember correctly, it was either that or a corkscrew or shoe polish, so of course I took the cards. At the time, I really thought it was only one of those emails baiting you to enter your email address so they can sell it to spammers (like I would need more than one penis pump). But in the mail yesterday, lo and behold, my cards arrived. And I love them. And it is official: at the tender age of 26, I have become my grandfather.