6.23.06
4:07 PM
Today I went to the Times Square Toys Backwards R Us to pick up Monopoly. There are 181 different versions of Monopoly (25th Anniversary Edition, 70th Anniversary Edition, 100 Years of Aviation History Edition, Lords of the Rings Edition, Star Wars Edition, Family Guy Edition…); I just went with the original where the boot is the boot and not Chewbacca (p.s. “Chewbacca” is in Microsoft Word’s dictionary. Awesome.) I came to the conclusion that Toys Backwards R Us is hell for bad children. Except all the toys are sharp and hot. And Geoffrey the Giraffe penetrates them with his long, blue, sandpapery tongue, treating their soft genitals like bark.
I also realized how ghetto that store is. Then again, Times Square, hello…HELLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After I left I had a hankering for Red Lobster… and slaves.
6.23.2006
6.21.2006
For nouf.
I have dedicated journal entries to lots of people since I started yammering off into the internet void; to Jade, Jenna, Michelle and others.
I don’t think I have ever rambled about Christina though.
Christina Girlfriend that is, in fact, that’s all there is from now on. Who needs more than one? Thursly.
Honestly, it’s a little weird. There is so much I know about her and so much I respect and love about her I kind of get lost. It’s like trying to describe the qualities of one snowflake during a blizzard or one drop of water in the ocean. You’re thinking about just how refreshing and cold the snowflake is but then you’re distracted by its beauty only to be lost in reflection on how unique it is.
I’m going to try though.
Where the fuck do I start? She’s amazing. She’s tolerant (wink), helpful, amazing, caring, loving, a hot ass, the utter shiznit, amazing, an awesome cook (though lacking some confidence), she is SO tolerant you have no idea, I mean 97% of the people who know me can hardly stand me and she LIVES with me…, she’s fun AND funny, she’s fickle (but in this context let’s say she keeps things interesting, how about that?), she has a magic in her that reminds me of how I used to look at the world when I was a child, she’s more compassionate than anyone I have ever met but in what appears to be a genuinely altruistic way (unlike that cunt Mother Teresa), she likes waterfalls AND the desert (also goat cheese AND goats), she can make a bad day tolerable, a neutral day good and a good day amazing, without really doing anything. She rubs my head. She scratches my back. She gives me billugiliugg. She is the equivalent of Lauren as far as style, but whereas Lauren shines brightest when it comes to subtlety, Christina will always be able to make me worry how my parents will react when they see what she has put together (although she can rock a plain, hot dress or jeans with the best of them). Her eyes are very peaceful and expressive although I can’t really talk about them or I’ll just get distracted or fall over or something. Her neck is often ticklish but I can put up with that. She’s amazing. She has just enough elements of a mother to make mine a bit jealousy at times…and that is fucking awesome. She has her problems but she is also finding ways to use aspects of those problems to solve solutions and to grow. She’s understanding and that’s a big one since I often feel like no one really gets me. She listens to Gavin Friday, Gogol Bordello, The Tiger Lilies and other stuff that just might baffle and scare the casual listener.
She is Tylenol when my head aches.
She is potato soup when I am hungry.
She is the Gay Bar.
She is magic when everything else is mundane.
She is rawk.
And I love her.
A lot.
I don’t think I have ever rambled about Christina though.
Christina Girlfriend that is, in fact, that’s all there is from now on. Who needs more than one? Thursly.
Honestly, it’s a little weird. There is so much I know about her and so much I respect and love about her I kind of get lost. It’s like trying to describe the qualities of one snowflake during a blizzard or one drop of water in the ocean. You’re thinking about just how refreshing and cold the snowflake is but then you’re distracted by its beauty only to be lost in reflection on how unique it is.
I’m going to try though.
Where the fuck do I start? She’s amazing. She’s tolerant (wink), helpful, amazing, caring, loving, a hot ass, the utter shiznit, amazing, an awesome cook (though lacking some confidence), she is SO tolerant you have no idea, I mean 97% of the people who know me can hardly stand me and she LIVES with me…, she’s fun AND funny, she’s fickle (but in this context let’s say she keeps things interesting, how about that?), she has a magic in her that reminds me of how I used to look at the world when I was a child, she’s more compassionate than anyone I have ever met but in what appears to be a genuinely altruistic way (unlike that cunt Mother Teresa), she likes waterfalls AND the desert (also goat cheese AND goats), she can make a bad day tolerable, a neutral day good and a good day amazing, without really doing anything. She rubs my head. She scratches my back. She gives me billugiliugg. She is the equivalent of Lauren as far as style, but whereas Lauren shines brightest when it comes to subtlety, Christina will always be able to make me worry how my parents will react when they see what she has put together (although she can rock a plain, hot dress or jeans with the best of them). Her eyes are very peaceful and expressive although I can’t really talk about them or I’ll just get distracted or fall over or something. Her neck is often ticklish but I can put up with that. She’s amazing. She has just enough elements of a mother to make mine a bit jealousy at times…and that is fucking awesome. She has her problems but she is also finding ways to use aspects of those problems to solve solutions and to grow. She’s understanding and that’s a big one since I often feel like no one really gets me. She listens to Gavin Friday, Gogol Bordello, The Tiger Lilies and other stuff that just might baffle and scare the casual listener.
She is Tylenol when my head aches.
She is potato soup when I am hungry.
She is the Gay Bar.
She is magic when everything else is mundane.
She is rawk.
And I love her.
A lot.
6.18.2006
6.16.2006
Sausages and root beer
6.16.06
8:55 PM
Hey, who am I to ever turn down free food.
Also, I just realized reading a passage in Desperation that I have, at times, confused Ingmar Bergman and Ingrid Bergman, simply based on the names.
Another also, I will not be able to sleep tonight. I will go home, watch the NIN live DVD, listen to the new album in 5.1 and then lie in bed with it playing on my headphones until it is time to wake up (7 am) and then I will begin the long, long process of seeing Nine Inch Nails in Long Island. I am attempting to bring in my digital camera and take some shots since this show is quite the spectacle from pictures I’ve seen so far.
And: I listened to Depeche Mode’s “Ultra” for the first time in its entirety today. Very solid. A bit heavy n the instrumental tracks, I could have handled one more with lyrics, but hey, what are you going to do, tell Depeche Mode not to put so many instrumentals on an album?! Ha! Good fucking luck! Dave Gahan is a total dictatorial asshole when it comes to these things! Ha!
Ha!
And speaking of free food, I went to meet Meg and her boss, Bill for lunch today and when I arrive at Meg’s job (XM Satellite radio) she tells me that Bob Edwards will be joining us. BOB FUCKING EDWARDS! He is one of the top three most famous radio personalities in history! He was really cool and we talked about some really strange things. Bill was cool too. Turns out Bill has worked with none other than Billy West for the past 20 years. BILLY FUCKING WEST! Ren, Stimpy, 60% of Futurama, 80% of The Oblongs, 75% of The Critic, The Brain, Orson Wells, Tiny Toons, Animaniacs and the fucking list goes on. Next time I see him (next week to record some sweepers for XM) he’s going to give me a comedy CD that he and Bill West did together. How much madness is that?
And on top of all that happy goodness, I had a great on screen audition today for Food Network. Probably won’t get t, but it felt very good and that is what rocks, walking out with that sense of at least it went well.
Anyway, mung.
8:55 PM
Hey, who am I to ever turn down free food.
Also, I just realized reading a passage in Desperation that I have, at times, confused Ingmar Bergman and Ingrid Bergman, simply based on the names.
Another also, I will not be able to sleep tonight. I will go home, watch the NIN live DVD, listen to the new album in 5.1 and then lie in bed with it playing on my headphones until it is time to wake up (7 am) and then I will begin the long, long process of seeing Nine Inch Nails in Long Island. I am attempting to bring in my digital camera and take some shots since this show is quite the spectacle from pictures I’ve seen so far.
And: I listened to Depeche Mode’s “Ultra” for the first time in its entirety today. Very solid. A bit heavy n the instrumental tracks, I could have handled one more with lyrics, but hey, what are you going to do, tell Depeche Mode not to put so many instrumentals on an album?! Ha! Good fucking luck! Dave Gahan is a total dictatorial asshole when it comes to these things! Ha!
Ha!
And speaking of free food, I went to meet Meg and her boss, Bill for lunch today and when I arrive at Meg’s job (XM Satellite radio) she tells me that Bob Edwards will be joining us. BOB FUCKING EDWARDS! He is one of the top three most famous radio personalities in history! He was really cool and we talked about some really strange things. Bill was cool too. Turns out Bill has worked with none other than Billy West for the past 20 years. BILLY FUCKING WEST! Ren, Stimpy, 60% of Futurama, 80% of The Oblongs, 75% of The Critic, The Brain, Orson Wells, Tiny Toons, Animaniacs and the fucking list goes on. Next time I see him (next week to record some sweepers for XM) he’s going to give me a comedy CD that he and Bill West did together. How much madness is that?
And on top of all that happy goodness, I had a great on screen audition today for Food Network. Probably won’t get t, but it felt very good and that is what rocks, walking out with that sense of at least it went well.
Anyway, mung.
6.15.2006
In these silences something may rise
6.15.06
9:30 PM
I just had a long conversation with Barrett. None of you know Barrett and that’s just fine. Barrett is a guy I met at my last NIN concert in New York City in November (I think). He is the only person I know with whom I can share my excitement and anticipation of this concert. And that’s okay. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if the person I’m going to the concert with or even my girlfriend of six years (the girlfriend who I started dating, sort of, BECAUSE of NIN’s music) doesn’t see eye to eye with my 6’8 anticipation; as long as there is one person I can talk to about it. Barrett is that person. I didn’t feel self-conscious telling him I feel like a 6 year old girl on Christmas morning. Why? Because he totally empathizes with me. He knows EXACTLY what I am thinking and feeling because he is thinking and feeling it too. And it isn’t just about the fact that I can squeal like a little girl about this with him. He and I can discuss the evolution of the setlists from the first leg of this tour to this current leg. We can talk about how this ever-so-subtle change to the lyrics might mean a lot more than what people think it means. We can talk about how, after so much time has passed, Reznor can always top himself without seeming like he’s trying to do so. We can talk about just what the hell is motivating Jordie to wear little black dots all over his face. These are the things that I can’t even share with my girlfriend of over half a decade because she doesn’t give a shit about these tiny, little details. I really don’t know why, but whatever. It’s just something I have to deal with, and I can, thanks to Barrett and the other obsessive, scrutinizing fans of the bands I like.
To refocus myself slightly, my chat with Barrett (who has seen NIN about 20 times now to my 5 times) has quadrupled my excitement. No…quadrupled it a thousand fold. NO! Quadrupled it a thousand fold...XMAX. Yeeeessssss. That’s like over forty thousand infinities for all you non-Paulitospherical mathematicians reading this.
You know who you fucking are.
9:59 PM
Earlier tonight, a call came through that was someone’s voicemail. In other words, someone called someone else and hung up but the end of their answering machine message was transferred to my line. I waited for the beep and started whispering, “In these silences something may rise” over and over. I really hope that affects whoever gets that message.
9:30 PM
I just had a long conversation with Barrett. None of you know Barrett and that’s just fine. Barrett is a guy I met at my last NIN concert in New York City in November (I think). He is the only person I know with whom I can share my excitement and anticipation of this concert. And that’s okay. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if the person I’m going to the concert with or even my girlfriend of six years (the girlfriend who I started dating, sort of, BECAUSE of NIN’s music) doesn’t see eye to eye with my 6’8 anticipation; as long as there is one person I can talk to about it. Barrett is that person. I didn’t feel self-conscious telling him I feel like a 6 year old girl on Christmas morning. Why? Because he totally empathizes with me. He knows EXACTLY what I am thinking and feeling because he is thinking and feeling it too. And it isn’t just about the fact that I can squeal like a little girl about this with him. He and I can discuss the evolution of the setlists from the first leg of this tour to this current leg. We can talk about how this ever-so-subtle change to the lyrics might mean a lot more than what people think it means. We can talk about how, after so much time has passed, Reznor can always top himself without seeming like he’s trying to do so. We can talk about just what the hell is motivating Jordie to wear little black dots all over his face. These are the things that I can’t even share with my girlfriend of over half a decade because she doesn’t give a shit about these tiny, little details. I really don’t know why, but whatever. It’s just something I have to deal with, and I can, thanks to Barrett and the other obsessive, scrutinizing fans of the bands I like.
To refocus myself slightly, my chat with Barrett (who has seen NIN about 20 times now to my 5 times) has quadrupled my excitement. No…quadrupled it a thousand fold. NO! Quadrupled it a thousand fold...XMAX. Yeeeessssss. That’s like over forty thousand infinities for all you non-Paulitospherical mathematicians reading this.
You know who you fucking are.
9:59 PM
Earlier tonight, a call came through that was someone’s voicemail. In other words, someone called someone else and hung up but the end of their answering machine message was transferred to my line. I waited for the beep and started whispering, “In these silences something may rise” over and over. I really hope that affects whoever gets that message.
Reminder to me and whoever:
A) My girlfriend likes other men and
B) Stop reading over my fucking shoulder.
Go
Go
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Okay. Now she's gone.
Anyway, Scissor Sisters are playing for free on Saturday, July 15th at Coney Island's Siren Music Festival. There are like 30 other bands I have never heard of so I don't know how I'm going to handle that one...
and also, The New Pornographers are playing Thursday, August 3rd (also for free) at Central Park's SummerStage. I plan on skipping work that day so if anyone is interested, hooty hoo.
A) My girlfriend likes other men and
B) Stop reading over my fucking shoulder.
Go
Go
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Okay. Now she's gone.
Anyway, Scissor Sisters are playing for free on Saturday, July 15th at Coney Island's Siren Music Festival. There are like 30 other bands I have never heard of so I don't know how I'm going to handle that one...
and also, The New Pornographers are playing Thursday, August 3rd (also for free) at Central Park's SummerStage. I plan on skipping work that day so if anyone is interested, hooty hoo.
6.14.2006
It was destroyed it was destroyed!!!
6.14.06
3:12 PM
Today I am here to sing the praises of Advil. I woke up at 6 this morning with a terrible, ligament snapping pain in my leg. I tried stretching, and a whole bunch of other shit to try and stop the pain, but nothing worked. I had no clue what was wrong. Anyway, I woke up, took three Advil and tried to go back to sleep. When I woke up at 11 or so, the pain wasn’t just dulled, it was fucking gone. The upside is that the Advil worked great for pain relief, but the downside is I can totally see myself getting addicted to painkillers later in life when Advil just doesn’t cut it. Meh. I always thought I would make a good junkie.
6:35 PM
I just ordered some dinner from La Famiglia and the guy called me Paulie. Awesome. I’m a Goodfella now. The excitement of the NIN concert this Saturday has almost completely consumed me. Ray and I are going to set out stupidly early and get sunburns in order to see a soundcheck and/or meet and greet. Ray plans on giving Reznor a copy of the EDIETS video and Binding Silence if he sees him.
Also, I must now begin to download songs for BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX. I’m sorry if this sounds like a dictatorial decision, but I am planning on not allowing any albums to be played while we’re there. Not for my benefit but think about it, can you think of one album that 7 people can agree on? Chris mentioned Sergeant Pepper and Achtung, Baby and I thought maybe some Guns N Roses, but who knows. I plan on downloading Billboard’s Top 100 from the early 90’s and burning them onto several CD’s although Gia suggested an mp3/iPod solution. Whatever the case, the time is rushing up. This is going to be dumb fun.
Pizza is here.
Ha-whooot!
3:12 PM
Today I am here to sing the praises of Advil. I woke up at 6 this morning with a terrible, ligament snapping pain in my leg. I tried stretching, and a whole bunch of other shit to try and stop the pain, but nothing worked. I had no clue what was wrong. Anyway, I woke up, took three Advil and tried to go back to sleep. When I woke up at 11 or so, the pain wasn’t just dulled, it was fucking gone. The upside is that the Advil worked great for pain relief, but the downside is I can totally see myself getting addicted to painkillers later in life when Advil just doesn’t cut it. Meh. I always thought I would make a good junkie.
6:35 PM
I just ordered some dinner from La Famiglia and the guy called me Paulie. Awesome. I’m a Goodfella now. The excitement of the NIN concert this Saturday has almost completely consumed me. Ray and I are going to set out stupidly early and get sunburns in order to see a soundcheck and/or meet and greet. Ray plans on giving Reznor a copy of the EDIETS video and Binding Silence if he sees him.
Also, I must now begin to download songs for BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX. I’m sorry if this sounds like a dictatorial decision, but I am planning on not allowing any albums to be played while we’re there. Not for my benefit but think about it, can you think of one album that 7 people can agree on? Chris mentioned Sergeant Pepper and Achtung, Baby and I thought maybe some Guns N Roses, but who knows. I plan on downloading Billboard’s Top 100 from the early 90’s and burning them onto several CD’s although Gia suggested an mp3/iPod solution. Whatever the case, the time is rushing up. This is going to be dumb fun.
Pizza is here.
Ha-whooot!
6.06.2006
6.6.06
8:49 PM
So this resident calls me (not for the first time) to complain about some damn thing. She says, “There is something VERY wrong here…” in a don’t-think-you-can-put-one-over-on-me tone of voice, then she pauses for effect. Never one to waste a silence, I ask, “Something specific or is it just a feeling of general malaise?” and she hangs up on me. If trying to clarify a vague statement made by some cantankerous bitch in a smarmy fashion makes me an asshole, well then fine, I’m an asshole, but at least I’m not a whiny resident at a shitty, badly run hospital. Ha!
Also, I did this…
Party Time
Or
Inchoate Darkness
Bawls out party time.
Tying my dick around my neck party time.
Impregnating the dead party time.
Pissing down my leg, off my toe and onto an ugly baby party time.
Ejaculating into the milk only to discover it isn’t milk, but a whole lot of ejaculate party time.
Wolverine in the South Hamptons party time.
Duck Tuxedo party time.
Note to self: Don’t order the cheese fries from Steak & Hoagies party time.
Sitting quietly whilst reading a book party time.
Considering buying Hitman: Blood Money but hesitating because I spent a lot of money on Chris’ B-Day and if I keep spending money I’ll never make any party time.
Considering buying those Dragon Fastback’s but hesitating for the same reason party time.
Hand cramping from writing so long party time.
The stabilizing force in the Universe is the scaly shit in between my toes party time.
Incomprehensible immigrants party time.
Deep-seded spelling error racism party time.
Intercontinental Rock God party time.
Running out of ideas party time.
Erectile dysfunction party time.
Time not fucking moving fast enough party time.
Baboon Rape Party party time.
Marilyn Manson has lost his mind and ate my balls party time.
Waste of paper party time.
Going to stop this pretty soon party time.
Twiggy in make up party time.
Backflipping Dixie Chicks party time.
Getting Up to Get Down party time.
Chex Mix party time.
Cheerios in Beer(ios) party time.
Pie stand party time.
Impromptu poetry party time.
Oleous discharge from the Anus party time.
Revisiting backflipping Dixie Chicks party time.
Sussingham cell phone party time.
100 pizzas party time.
200 Cigarettes party time.
At least $4,000 (four thousand dollars—it looks bigger spelled out) coming in soon party time.
Crossing guards, fingers and legs we break $10,000 (make that ten thousand dollars) party time.
Latoya (yes, for real, Latoya) is gone party time.
So am I party time.
Party T. Guyet
8:49 PM
So this resident calls me (not for the first time) to complain about some damn thing. She says, “There is something VERY wrong here…” in a don’t-think-you-can-put-one-over-on-me tone of voice, then she pauses for effect. Never one to waste a silence, I ask, “Something specific or is it just a feeling of general malaise?” and she hangs up on me. If trying to clarify a vague statement made by some cantankerous bitch in a smarmy fashion makes me an asshole, well then fine, I’m an asshole, but at least I’m not a whiny resident at a shitty, badly run hospital. Ha!
Also, I did this…
Party Time
Or
Inchoate Darkness
Bawls out party time.
Tying my dick around my neck party time.
Impregnating the dead party time.
Pissing down my leg, off my toe and onto an ugly baby party time.
Ejaculating into the milk only to discover it isn’t milk, but a whole lot of ejaculate party time.
Wolverine in the South Hamptons party time.
Duck Tuxedo party time.
Note to self: Don’t order the cheese fries from Steak & Hoagies party time.
Sitting quietly whilst reading a book party time.
Considering buying Hitman: Blood Money but hesitating because I spent a lot of money on Chris’ B-Day and if I keep spending money I’ll never make any party time.
Considering buying those Dragon Fastback’s but hesitating for the same reason party time.
Hand cramping from writing so long party time.
The stabilizing force in the Universe is the scaly shit in between my toes party time.
Incomprehensible immigrants party time.
Deep-seded spelling error racism party time.
Intercontinental Rock God party time.
Running out of ideas party time.
Erectile dysfunction party time.
Time not fucking moving fast enough party time.
Baboon Rape Party party time.
Marilyn Manson has lost his mind and ate my balls party time.
Waste of paper party time.
Going to stop this pretty soon party time.
Twiggy in make up party time.
Backflipping Dixie Chicks party time.
Getting Up to Get Down party time.
Chex Mix party time.
Cheerios in Beer(ios) party time.
Pie stand party time.
Impromptu poetry party time.
Oleous discharge from the Anus party time.
Revisiting backflipping Dixie Chicks party time.
Sussingham cell phone party time.
100 pizzas party time.
200 Cigarettes party time.
At least $4,000 (four thousand dollars—it looks bigger spelled out) coming in soon party time.
Crossing guards, fingers and legs we break $10,000 (make that ten thousand dollars) party time.
Latoya (yes, for real, Latoya) is gone party time.
So am I party time.
Party T. Guyet
6.02.2006
Anything worth doing…it’s worth doing right.
6.02.06
3:15PM
My fucking thumbnail is stabbing into my thumb from playing Nintendo for two hours straight. Fuck you, Mario. This is going to be a problem. This never used to happen when I was young. At least it teaches us that ergonomics isn’t bullshit. It also teaches us that eating mushrooms makes you bigger, Italian plumbers can break bricks with their bare hands and that being in close contact with tobacco leaves will turn you into a flying raccoon. Crazy Japanese and their crazy children’s’ drug culture. What is it about this game that makes it so addictive? The accessibility? The simplicity? The Koopas? Could it be the tobacco? Could it be the satisfaction of stomping waves of politically incorrectly named enemies? Could it be that green boot that makes you invincible? Could it be Giant World? In a way it’s all these things. And THAT is why they are still making Super Mario Brother games to this day.
Changing the subject drastically, I received a call from my agent earlier (while I was in Water World) and he told me that he wants me to be in a short film he wrote and is filming in a few weeks. It’s a tiny, non-speaking role in which I laugh and smoke (I’ve never even lit a cigarette, let alone smoked one) but the fact remains that he asked me personally. How cool is that? I really have no clue where the Great Magnet is taking me, but I would be a fool to resist.
3:15PM
My fucking thumbnail is stabbing into my thumb from playing Nintendo for two hours straight. Fuck you, Mario. This is going to be a problem. This never used to happen when I was young. At least it teaches us that ergonomics isn’t bullshit. It also teaches us that eating mushrooms makes you bigger, Italian plumbers can break bricks with their bare hands and that being in close contact with tobacco leaves will turn you into a flying raccoon. Crazy Japanese and their crazy children’s’ drug culture. What is it about this game that makes it so addictive? The accessibility? The simplicity? The Koopas? Could it be the tobacco? Could it be the satisfaction of stomping waves of politically incorrectly named enemies? Could it be that green boot that makes you invincible? Could it be Giant World? In a way it’s all these things. And THAT is why they are still making Super Mario Brother games to this day.
Changing the subject drastically, I received a call from my agent earlier (while I was in Water World) and he told me that he wants me to be in a short film he wrote and is filming in a few weeks. It’s a tiny, non-speaking role in which I laugh and smoke (I’ve never even lit a cigarette, let alone smoked one) but the fact remains that he asked me personally. How cool is that? I really have no clue where the Great Magnet is taking me, but I would be a fool to resist.
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