|Dave And The International Weightlifting Community Work Things Out||
Well, it looks like things are being sorted out between me and the international weightlifting community (see a couple posts ago to find out what I am referring to). As if it weren’t strange enough that people on a message board about weightlifting would even be talking about me in the first place, now I find that they even saw the earlier post in which I talk about the fact that they were talking about me. Are you following this? Okay, good. Anyway, since my earlier post about my ongoing battle between me and the international weightlifting community over at powerandbulk.com, I have received an e-mail from someone who runs the site letting me know that they don’t actually hate me. I’ve also gotten some nice notes from a bunch of other people who post on that message board- including the guy who started the whole thread about how much I suck in the first place- and I have to admit, I’m actually kind of touched. And as if all that weren’t enough to keep things magical, I went back over to the powerandbulk.com message boards and found that someone had posted pictures of me, Rosie O’Donnell, and Paul McCartney all together to help further support their claims that I look like the love child of the popular Beatle and the former talk show host turned full-time lesbian (which is awesome). I hate to admit it, but I do see the resemblance.
Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have made my peace with these people. And if the international weightlifting community and I can get along, then maybe we ALL can get along. Hey, I’m just saying. Until next time- take care of yourselves…and each other. And why not have a protein shake while you’re at it?
In other news, this week I started playing guitar for my friend Phil’s band Heather. They are an awesome band that combines the magic of AC/DC, Thin Lizzy, and other sweet bands like that and pretty much rocks ass in general. I’ve always wanted to just play guitar in a band instead of being the lead singer/guitar player or bass player/backup singer as I’ve done up until now (though I love doing that stuff too), so I’m having a lot of fun. Best of all, I get to put all my years of practicing scales and stuff into good use since they have me attempting to play big crazy solos in a lot of the songs. Watch your ass, Yngwie- there’s a new sherriff in town. Anyway, I hope they don’t kick me out or anything. We’re playing a bunch of shows soon, so if you catch wind of them you should totally show up and start rocking, rocking ‘til it hurts.
In still other news, I just finished taping a bunch of shows with my close personal friend, the lovely in every way Karen “Duff” Duffy, whom you might remember from such films as “Dumb and Dumber” and some other ones (she was also a VJ on MTV and is a really pretty Revlon spokesmodel). The show is called “Random Acts of Duff” and will be on TLC aka the Learning Channel this fall. It is quite excellent and I had a super fun time working on it. I will go into elaborate detail and tell all sorts of hilarious anecdotes from the set some time soon, so brace yourself.
Hmmm, what else? I think that’s about it for now. Maybe I’ll go check in over at the powerandbulk.com message boards and see what the latest is with my new pack of friends. And then it’s off to crunch class.
|Whores On Cable||
Last night on cable I watched another episode of “Cathouse: The Series,” the incredible show that chronicles the life and times of a bunch of people that work at the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, which is a completely legal whorehouse located somewhere in the awesome state of Nevada. As you can probably imagine, the show pretty much consists of a bunch of whores (I say this not in a pejorative fashion. These women are literally people who have sex for money, exactly as the word suggests.) hanging out and talking about what it’s like to live in the whorehouse and be a whore all the time. Joining them is a sort of low rent Hugh Hefner kind of guy who is also fat and bald, which sort of adds to the effect of his being a decadent guy who is the boss of whores. They all seem to have a lot of fun together, the whores and their boss, sitting on each others’ laps, getting drunk, and talking about how fun it is to be at the whorehouse all the time and how they are like one big happy family. Sometimes the camera will show the women in their bedrooms getting ready to bone some guy who has driven all the way out into the middle of the desert to pay money to have sex with someone who looks exactly like the kind of lady you’d pick up at 2 a.m. on wing night in a sports bar located in a strip mall in any crappy suburb in America. More often than not, the guy paying to have sex has a mustache and is wearing a pair of Dockers or something. The whore and the guy with the mustache sit and giggle for a few minutes while talking about exactly what he is going to get for a few hundred bucks and then next thing you know the camera cuts away and we are left to wonder about all the good times they must be having together. Then the camera will show some other whore splashing around in a swimming pool, playing with a hula hoop, or jumping around on a trampoline or something, which only serves to further ilustrate the fact that it’s good times all the time when you live in a whorehouse, even if you are just hanging out and not boning some guy with a mustache while his Dockers lay in a ball on your bedroom floor.
Also last night on “Cathouse: The Series”, they showed the whores playing with penis-shaped shot glasses of some sort and- as you can probably imagine- the whores just laughed and laughed the whole time, as if getting drunk weren’t already enough fun in itself to begin with. It was kind of like when you happen upon a bachelorette party and all the girls are all wasted and giggly and sipping pina coladas from penis-shaped straws while asking you to use their disposable camera to take a picture of them that is not only hilarious, but one that they will all want copies of and with good reason. They want to remember this night forever even if they dare not speak of it again in front of their husbands, boyfriends, or anyone else that they don’t want to know how much they enjoy drinking from those penis-shaped straws (On a related note, I once saw penis-shaped pasta at one of those irreverent novelty-type stores in the Village. I imagine the whores of Nevada would have gotten a kick out of that too.)
Sometimes I wonder what all the whores do when the cameras are off and they are faced with a bit of downtime at that whorehouse of theirs. Is it still all fun and games or do they pretty much hang out and smoke menthol cigarettes while dreaming of the day when they’ll pack up their fake boobs and tattered Frederick’s of Hollywood wardrobe and not live in a whorehouse anymore? And if they ever do leave, will they promise to call up the fat bald guy who runs the place every once in a while just to say hello?
|Dave vs. The International Weightlifting Community||
I realize it’s pathetic that I even know this, but apparently members of the international weightlifting community do not find me the least bit amusing at all. Up until yesterday, I pretty much lived my life figuring the international weightlifting community and I would pretty much go about our business without ever really having any effect on each other whatsoever. I mean, sure, I do work out constantly (cardio, barbells, pretty much anything they have at the gym for guys like me who are really into working out), but generally speaking, I tend to keep matters of free weights and power lifting to myself. Still, as it turns out, the international weightlifting community is totally onto me.
As maybe one or two of the people who might possibly be reading this already know, I have a website.. Since I am a sad and lonely man, I often check my “webstats” to see how many people visit my site each day. There is even a thing where you can look to see what websites people came from to get to your website, so if there is a link to my site on some other site, I can find out where it is and even go take a look at it.
The other day I saw that the message board on a site called powerandbulk.com, which turns out to be about weightlifting and he-man competitions and other awesome stuff like that, had a link to my site. I was curious to see what people on a message board like this could possibly be saying about me, so I went and had a look. As it turns out there was a whole thread talking about how not funny I am. Making matters worse, one person even said I looked like the love child of Paul McCartney and Rosie O’Donnell. Ouch. I don’t think that they were merely suggesting that I look Irish.
Anyway, I was a little hurt at first to find some random people being mean to me on the Internet, but then I figured if a bunch of weightlifters and he-man types actually felt compelled to talk shit about me on their message board, I must be doing something right. I imagine Madonna and Cher must have gone through the same thing at some point in their illustrious careers. I guess I’ll just have to get used to it. After all, nobody made me go into show business.
If you feel like checking out what members of the international weightlifting community have to say about me, go here. And if you’ve really got a lot of extra time on your hands (and clearly you do if you’ve read this far), feel free to “weigh” in on the topic yourself. Get it? “Weigh?” Ha. And those weightlifters think I’m not funny.
And in case any members of the international weightlifting community are reading this right now- it’s on, mofos.
Last night I went to see the popular film “The Aristocrats” at one of the several movie theatres located in my popular Brooklyn neighborhood. I went to see the movie by myself. Some people think this is sad but it seems more and more that that’s how I do it. Usually when someone asks me to go see a movie I say no because if I’m gonna hang out with someone, I’d rather talk to them and stuff instead of just sitting in silence in a movie theater. Sure, we can talk after the movie and stuff, but hopefully you see my point. Also, if you go see a movie by yourself, you don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal your candy or anything. I like that extra safety.
Anyway, “The Aristocrats” was really good and I definitely recommend you go see it instead of that penguin movie that is probably showing at the same theatre. For the uninitiated, “The Aristocrats” is a documentary in which a bunch of comedians talk about a legendary, mostly improvised joke that is dirtier than any other joke ever. The movie has some of my favorite people in it too- Fred Willard, Harry Shearer, Michael McKean, and Joe Franklin to name a few. There are also a lot of Cleveland guys (the town where I’m from), like Fred Willard, Martin Mull, and Drew Carey, so that was exciting to me on some level too.
“The Aristocrats” is roughly 89 minutes long. There were times when I wished it were a little shorter, but that’s mostly because I was kind of drunk and for some reason the Milk Duds that I bought before the movie had a weird minty taste to them. I’m guessing this was because the Milk Duds box was packed right next to the Junior Mints in the candy display case out front or something. Anyway, I wasn’t into the mix of caramel and mint. There is a reason why the two have stayed separate for so long. Then again, I guess it was kind of good that my Milk Duds tasted minty because then I wasn’t able to finish the whole box. It’s this sort of thing that helps me stay in really great shape all the time.
In other news, last night I had a weird dream in which I was somehow talked into robbing a bodega out of roughly 900 dollars with two other guys I didn’t really know. We didn’t have a gun or anything, but instead incorporated a lot of trickery into the situation and somehow were able to life 900 dollars from the register. Since it was a dream and all, the details are kind of fuzzy. I do remember that I felt really bad about stealing the money and was really worried about getting caught and going to prison and all that. In both real life and my dream state, I am generally opposed to getting locked up in a correctional facility of any sort. Anyway, if there are any dream analyzing types out there, please feel free to write in with whatever insights you might have about my crazy dream where I rob a bodega with two other thugs.
|A Dream Come True||
When I was a little girl growing up in Austria, everyone used to tell me that I’d never grow up to star in an Internet commercial for a popular candy. Well, I am proud to say that it is finally time to tell all those people to go to hell once and for all, because I have finally gone and starred in an Internet commercial for a popular candy, M&M’s to be exact, a new kind that is bigger than the regular kind. If you want to see me make candy history, go here. Once you get there, wait for all the animation stuff to happen and then click on the thing that says “Megalab Scientist Interviews” on the little sign on the left. After you click on that, click on the picture of me wearing sunglasses. Then brace yourself for magic. Are you following this? Okay, great. Anyway, it’s no so much a commercial as it is art and stuff. Deal with it.
|Night On Earth||
Last night was an action-packed night in a sea of nights that are packed with action and other things. First, I had rock practice with my rock band Valley Lodge. We have a rock show coming up this Saturday at Mercury Lounge so we decided to fire up the asskicking machine just to make sure everything was working properly. It seemed to be, though I’m still having trouble getting the hair right.
After practice, I wandered downtown from our Chelsea practice spot and eventually bellied up to the counter at La Taza De Oro on 8th Avenue between 14th and 15th streets, my favorite place to dine alone in New York City. I enjoy eating here with other people too, but the fact of the matter is that most of the time I can’t get people to eat here with me. They say it’s too “heavy” or it gives them “diarrhea” or they saw “roaches” last time they were there. Personally, I don’t have a problem with any of these things. To me diarrhea is just nature’s way of telling you that you’re living life to its fullest and also maybe you should not put so much hot sauce on next time. And as for the roaches, they’re just plain adorable. And aren’t lobster, shrimp, and crawfish and all that just the roaches of the sea? People don’t seem to have a problem with them. I mean, some people do, but hopefully you see my point. If roaches were just a little bigger it would be only a matter of time before someone tried to figure out a way to charge $12.50 a dozen for those things. Hey, I’m just saying. As long as we’re on the topic, I suppose I should mention at this point that I personally have never seen roaches at La Taza De Oro. The food there is delicious. Try the pork chops. They were a little dry last night, but still.
After my delicious and roach-free dinner at La Taza De Oro (Oh yeah, I had the roast pork chops, yellow rice, red beans, cafe con leche, and a bowl of garlic on the side. All four food groups were represented.), I headed back to Brooklyn for a night of further world domination. I stopped off at the little grocery by my house and picked up a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby ice cream despite recent photographic evidence that suggests I should never eat this stuff or much of anything ever again. Once I got home, I tore into the Chubby Hubby with a dirty tablespoon and popped in “M is for Manchester”, the Morrissey concert DVD that came out a few months. I suppose there is something very sad about a grown man sitting at home in the dark eating ice cream and watching a Morrissey DVD all by himself, but all in all it was really not bad for a Wednesday. I checked a little e-mail while I was at it, but for the most part it was just me, Morrissey, about 2000 extra calories and then off to bed.
At about 4 in the morning or so, I was awakened by my lower intestine, which seemed to be saying something to me like “So Dave, let me get this straight- two pork chops, rice, beans, a bowl of garlic, a gallon of hot sauce, and half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and you expect me not to let loose all over the bed?” Disgusting, I know, but hey- God made me this way.
|Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me||
I absolutely have to tell you about my new job.