june 6 2000
today's entry is brought to you by larry king.
high: dancing with a lovely latina shortie to audio two's "top billin'" on friday night and having the woman who'd been staring at me call me over and say "ooh, boy, you is smooth. i wants some of that!"
low: her mustache and teeth that made her look like jimmy walker after eating a brick sandwich.
isaac hayes. why is he a scientologist? the man who made "by the time i get to phoenix" and feeds mountain-town housewives everywhere his two-dimensional chocolate salty balls is in the privacy of his own home a simpering yes-man to a dead monomaniac. the sad part is, every part of that sentence is true.
by a distressing chain of events yesterday that were predicated by my bottomless sloth and my willingness to seek any avenue in order to avoid productivity, i happened upon a website for men who shave their head. this in itself is not distressing; even after having shaved on and off for six years (and on for the last two and a half), i'm always looking for tips on how to maximize the sheen and gleam and minimize the occasional abrasion in the sun. but there were no tips. there was instead page after page of bald smut. i don't think it would be so bad if it were reasonably literate or self-important bald smut, but mr. weak-kneed epiphany is a just a dirty bird who gets off on we bald burly types. man, i'd love to be burly. i've got the chest hair for it, just not the imposing bulk. i'm the skinny bald-headed kid who seems burlier than he is because he looks vaguely puerto rican. mic check, boricuas on the set.
UltraSparky: Have you ever listened to the Bloodhound Gang?
proven self: that's $16 i could be spending on a brazilian bikini wax.
UltraSparky: Or a Brazilian tranvestite hooker for that matter.
proven self: oh, did i say "wax"? i meant "Max."
UltraSparky: Zing!
UltraSparky: Always the bawd.
proven self: 56K, baby.
UltraSparky: Before or after taxes?
proven self: after waxes.
proven self: well, wanes, actually.
UltraSparky: The ever-shrinking Wanes World.
proven self: party on in excelsus.
UltraSparky: There's that Latin flava again.
proven self: i'm single, but i'm dative.
UltraSparky: I'm a textbook ablative case, myself.
proven self: ecce homo.
in the "call edgar bronfman, i smell a hit!" category, sparky also writes in to say: "I think the homeboy jew and nerdy fag is one combination that has yet to be plundered for a buddy-cop movie scenario. I can nag you about wearing a tight uniform instead of baggy pants, and you can berate me for blasting showtunes in the squad car."
one last thing. on olfactory evocation. sights have never done it for me; nor have sounds. but walking to the train this morning through the downpour, i breathed in at the exact instant that the past wafted down houston street, and i was lying on the bottom bunk next to alex's bed, playing mattel electronic football as saturday rain splashed on the roof. that was before jascha stopped taking his medication and went apeshit, before jeff put his hand through the window, before rosalie took me back into the woods. before andy and i stood outside his sister's house on a cold january night, huddling over our first joint. before bryan became convinced that jerome and norm and i were really going back to that party to hand out a beatdown. before josh moved to kansas city and got married. before before before.
to recap: brazilian tranvestite hookers. jascha going apeshit. thank you.
p.
ps. i'd like to apologize for letting a little glimpse of my soul show through in that last part. won't happen again, i promise.
and yo. my full-on venture kneejerk.net is up and running, though not nearly full. go and getcha read on. for me.
props to darkcounter.com
and sitemeter