Well I Got A Bad Liver And A Broken Heart

Dear Dave:

It's official: You're broke. Broke and really in debt. You need to stop drinking. Or at least, stop drinking so much.

And yeah, I know that realization is depressing for you for a number of reasons -- you basically have nothing to show for it except a bad liver. But it's been a long time coming, and you gotta face facts. You're depressed and all, I know, but drinking doesn't help that, and you know it. Don't fucking cry about it, either.

Now get your head back into your job.

Signed,

Yourself.

When The Moon Is Round And Full, Gotta Bust That Box Gotta Gut That Fish

I had a dream last night that I watched the movie Moon.

I haven't seen Moon in the non-dreamy world. It looks intriguing, and I like Sam Rockwell, but I've heard it's slow and boring.

But what I watched last nite in my head... it was Sam Rockwell in a Moon-like movie, but it did not appear to take place on the Moon. Like somewhere in that kind of setting, somewhere in space, but not actually on the Moon.

Afterwards, I discussed that aspect with someone else who watched Moon in my head with me. That person said it was Moon, but it was heavily edited in post-production to make it not appear as if it was on the Moon. The screening results indicated that film was too slow, and so the producer-director people decided that was the fault of it being on the Moon.

And despite that, it was still a boring film -- in my head.

And then this morning, I woke up early (because I went to bed early because I was hammered) and within five minutes I discovered Patton Oswalt's upcoming film, Big Fan. This is guaranteed to be the opposite of suck.

I Wanna Holla, But The Town's Too Small

There is no way this bill -- which I fished out of my wallet last nite -- was written on by a single, available, semi-attractive, cool chick in the neighborhood. No, it was written by some gay dude who gets laid every night. Just check the handwriting! I just know this shit.

I hate people.

Turbo-Crushed Is Our Mission, On The Table Or In The Kitchen -- YEAOWWW!!!

A week from now, I may be going to a Muppets-themed party at a friend's place in SOMA.

A month from now, I'm supposed to box my friend in another's friend's courtyard in the TL.

And on October 5, assuming I don't pass out in the next 24 minutes, I'm supposed to go see the Motorhead-Reverend Horton Heat-Nashville Pussy with a ton of people.

I define Permadolesence. And fattitude.

I Caught A Snuffleufagus and Smoked A Boogaloo Spliff

So last night I was down at Whiskey and not much was going on. My boy was working over in Portero Hill, so I cabbed over. Not much was happenin' there either, but I learned two important things:

1) One of the bartenders is an amazingly awesome and hot woman from Jacksonville who I hit it off with incredibly well. She's also gayer than Christ. I'm going to think of a creative way to break my mom's heart tomorrow by relating that story ti her,

2) I'm not what the boys call a "breastman," but the other bartender last nite had tits that belong encased in carbonite.

A'igth. Wish me luck on trying to sleep tonight.

Oh, and I love this fuckin' country. Canada couldn't produce this shit in a bazillion years:

(Just Humming The Theme To Family Feud)

I'm busy and lazy and have nothing interesting to say. So, here is some random shit:

The self-confidence level of Californians is making me feel insecure about being a Californian. (Via the pretty interesting OKTrends.)

And I'm never flying on a plane piloted by an Oregonian.

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From The Onion:

DENVER, CO—Like a desperate shipwreck survivor clutching at flotsam in the North Atlantic, area bar patron Kyle Whaley kept his eyes glued to a muted episode of the sitcom King Of Queens Monday, attempting to look as if he had some reason to be at Snooker's Bar and Grill despite not knowing anyone there. "Last I hear Bob was back at his landscaping job," a nearby bar patron said in a conversation Whaley had no hope of joining. Watching without sound or subtitles, Whaley shifted nervously on his barstool and locked his gaze on the program like a man cornered by an angry bear. As of press time, there was only one segment left after the upcoming commercial break, and Whaley's options were quickly running out.

Hmm, that sounds like something I read about three years ago...

SAN FRANCISCO, CA—Like a desperate shipwreck survivor clutching at flotsam in the North Atlantic, area bar patron Dave kept his eyes glued to a muted episode of uninformative sports talk show Baseball Tonight, attempting to look as if he had some reason to be at Whiskey Thieves despite not knowing anyone there. "Last I hear Bob was back at his landscaping job," a nearby bar patron said in a conversation Dave had no hope of joining. Watching without sound or subtitles, Dave shifted nervously on his barstool and locked his gaze on the program like a man cornered by an angry bear. As of press time, there was only one segment left after the upcoming commercial break, and Dave's options were quickly running out.

The good news is, now I know people there! And it only took three years, thousands upon thousands of untold dollars, and years off my life!

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Via Ned Hepburn (and a buncha other Tumblogs, or something:

I so love that Matthew Lesko actually rocks this suit when he's not on camera. Even when he has to catch a flight. I wonder if Vince from ShamWow always wears that headset, at least when he's not beating up hookers?

(Probably, he's a douche.)

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Another busy week at work, and the week's not even over yet! Working on Saturdays... man, I really should have gone down the game show route when I was younger and didn't smell like pee.

I Just Might Have a Problem That You'd Understand, We All Need Somebody to Lean On

My brother is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. Incredibly sweet guy. There's a story I tell to illustrate this:

Back when my folks and my brother still lived in San Diego (1996 or so), my dad and my bro went to a Chargers/Raiders game. Charger/Raider games tend to be ugly affairs in the stands because, well, Raider fans.

They both see a fight ready to break out between a Charger fan and a Raider fan. Not an unusual occurrence, unfortunately. What is unusual is for a person to step in between the two, calm them down, and convince them to just walk away, and to do it without threatening force or ejection or the police on them or something.

And that's what Scott did. He got between these two mad cats and talked them out of trying to kick each other's asses. I don't think they hugged it out and became best friends or whatever, but at least there was one less fight.

My dad called me and told me that story when it happened, and said it was one of the most amazing things he's ever seen in his life. And no, my brother isn't some hippie.

I relate this tale because my brother, while a very nice guy, wasn't much of a traditional "big brother." He's got 5 1/2 years on me, so you'd think that'd be a good age difference where he could show his younger sibling "the ropes." Well, he wasn't like that. Didn't drink or smoke pot, wasn't popular with the ladies, and he had all kinds of self-esteem issues (sound familiar?) that occupied him. Hell, he needed a big brother.

(I should probably point out that I was, and still am, a terrible little brother.)

So I drifted through my younger years aimlessly, looking for guidance and approval from the friends I made. None of those guys were very good with the ladies themselves because they were either inept or gay. But I did learn about drinking, drugs, gambling, and other useful tips that have made me the man I am today. But I still have issues -- particularly with the ladies -- and I need some further instruction.

That's why I am so THRILLED to see Andy Botwin has his own university where he teaches students the kind of lessons they didn't learn when they were younger! (See video intro below.) The University of Andy sounds completely awesome and exactly the kind of positive guidance that I need in my life right now. I'm so stoked about it that I don't care that it's not a real university, and that Andy Botwin is a fictional character and a giant fuck-up. I mean, have you watched Weeds and see the kind of tail he's pulled over the years? Zooey Deschanel, an Israeli chick, a hot Mexican illegal immigrant, and, well, I haven't watched Season Five yet, but I hear he gets some nice tail there as well.


New Beginnings, Happy Endings