May
Posted on 13th May 2008
My friend Jeff hipped me to Sun Kil Moon, which is not so much a band as it is a solo project I guess. The Sun Kil Moon song “Carry Me Ohio” is so pretty and perfect that I can’t really even listen to it. Click above to hear what I’m talking about.
May
Posted on 12th May 2008
This may come as a surprise to “some,” but there is something that I have been struggling with throughout most of my adult life. And no, it’s not alcoholism or my sexuality (though there are definitely some people who would tell you I have problems with one or both of those things). Oh fine, I’ll just come out with it: about once every three months or so, someone mistakes me for a woman. I am not troubled or offended by this or anything, just puzzled since, you know, I’m six feet tall, weigh around 175 pounds, and have worn fairly prominent sideburns for at least the past decade or so. I just don’t think I look at that much like a chick when it gets right down to it, that’s all.
When I was in my early twenties, a time when my hair was longer and my skin fairer, it made a little more sense to me that people thought I was a female person. I remember being at a Mexican restaurant in Cleveland with my mother and the waitress came over to our table and said “Ladies, can I get you anything to drink?” My mother and I both got a big kick out of it (though I imagine a part of my mother was also dying inside). And that’s usually how it goes- I’ll be at a restaurant or a store counter of some sort and the person working there will say “Can I help you ma’am?” or whatever. I never correct them either- I just let it slide and usually they just try to recover and act like they didn’t just mistake me for a person without a penis. In a way, I’m actually flattered that people mistake me for a lady. It’s sort of a compliment to my delicate features maybe. Then again, maybe they just think I’m a seriously ugly broad, the kind that sailors talk about late at night in their creaky bunks.
Recently, I was in Philadelphia for the night and was having a drink at a bar when a barback pushed past me while saying “Excuse me, miss- I just need to get by here.” My friend Leeza can confirm he was speaking to me and not anyone else. A week or so ago, however, things were taken to a whole new level when I was walking down the street in Washington, DC and a homeless woman began chasing me down the street with a pylon while laughing and telling me that my “pussy stinks.” This really got me thinking. Someone looks at my face and thinks I’m a woman. Sure- I get that. But someone claiming that they can actually smell my vagina? That is some serious next level shit right there. I must admit, however, that if I did in fact have a vagina, it certainly would stink. Like daisies, that is! Frickin’ crazy homeless lady- she’s got a lot of nerve. For the record, I gave her the leftover Chinese food I was carrying at the time- even after the accusations of me having particularly stanky lady parts. I hope she was happy.
Anyway, I’m not really sure what to make of all this. I guess there are worse problems to have really. In fact, this isn’t really a problem when you think about it. And- if nothing else- I’ve been taking extra care in the shower of late and really giving myself a good scrub, you know, downtown where the problem appears to be (at least according to that homeless woman who ate my Chinese food).
In semi-related news, my friend Martha sent me the video below. If I were ever actually going to be a woman, I could certainly learn a few tricks from this one:
May
Posted on 8th May 2008
Today I write to you from aboard a train cruising at a seriously fast speed along the Eastern Seaboard between New York City and Philadelphia. Last night I took part in the “Bedtime Stories” show at the Shubin Theatre over there on the corner of 4th and Bainbridge in the City of Brotherly Love (which is Philadelphia or “Philly” as it is sometimes known by the locals and other people too). The theme of the show was “college” and I closed the show with a commencement speech to the graduating class of the imaginary school St. Beyonce State. It was fun times and I got to meet lots of nice and talented folks.
Prior to my Philadelphia invasion, I did two brief interviews with some reputable Philadelphia comedy blogs that you can totally read if you want right here and here.
After the “Bedtimes Stories” show, I headed over to a nearby bar called the Tattooed Mom with sister, who totally lives in Philadelphia, and some folks from the show. We drank stuff and it was more fun times. There were even a lot of tattooed girls at the bar who will probably be tattooed moms themselves someday, some maybe as soon as nine months from last night I’m guessing.
After hanging out and drinking stuff at the Tattooed Mom bar, I went back to my sister’s house to sleep on the couch. Since my sister and her husband totally have a baby, I ended up only sleeping a few hours what with how early babies tend to wake and be all wanting stuff and all. That was okay with me though because I totally wanted to hang out with my newish nephew Luke and get a better sense of what his deal was anyway. Apparently he’s really into breast milk, puking on himself, and shitting his pants, not unlike most people his age I am told. But as far as people who are into that sort of thing go, he is pretty adorable and fun to be around. You just gotta keep a paper towel handy.
This morning my sister, Luke, and I ran out for a quick breakfast before I headed back to New York. My sister had some sort of eggs frittata dish and I had something callled the “Cinco De Mayo special”, which- as hinted in the name- was for the most part Mexcellent. Luke had a fruit cup, but to be honest he barely touched it. It was more of a prop really. We’ve all been there.
Toward the end of our meal I noticed something moving around in the jalapeno slices I had ordered on the side in an effort to take my Mexcellent breakfast to the next level. I tried to convince myself it was some melted cheese that was somehow bubbling or something, but upon closer inspection I discovered it was a worm of some sort, a worm that was still totally alive and moving around in my breakfast. My sister and I figured this is the sort of thing that just happens sometimes when you go ordering fresh jalapenos on the side, so we decided to roll with it and not call the cops or anything. This is just the sort of thing that happens in nature. We did tell the waitress that there was a worm in the jalapenos, but only because we didn’t want any other customers to go ordering the worm-filled jalapenos, not because I was mad about that shit or anything. And for the record, those jalapenos were totally taken off the bill. Thanks, lady.
After breakfast, my sister dropped me off at the 30th Street train station in Philadelphia, which film buffs might remember from the hit movie “Witness,” starring Hollywood’s Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis. In the beginning of the movie, a young Amish boy goes into one of the stalls in the bathroom and while he’s in there he just so happens to witness a nasty murder. One thing leads to another and next thing you know Harrison Ford, who plays a tough-talking cop in the movie, has to go find the kid back at his Amish place so he can tell Harrisonn Ford about the murder and stuff. Anyway, since I had a little time to kill and all, I decided to head into the very same bathroom and mount own my own one-man, one-act reinterpretion of the murder in one of the stalls in there, thanks in so small part to the two cups of coffee and the Cinco De Mayo breakfast from earlier. Gross!
In other news, the photo above is of a car I saw parked on the street as my sister and I headed home last night. I don’t know who the owner of this car is or how even gets behind the wheel of that thing, but I salute him nonetheless. Now that’s living. Keep up the good work, big-wheel-car-driving-man- your excellence has not gone unnoticed by me, Dave Hill, a man who knows from motherfucking awesome.
Newer Entries »
