THE HOLIDAY

and so dear readers, it's time for me to deliver my holiday message to y'all. i went to church last night with my mom, rather i was coerced into going because i am not really that religious, but it was a good experience in that i got to see which of my childhood compatriots went and got themselves hot... or married... or gay... but i was mostly concerned with hot. generally, the girls from church have just swollen some in the 5 or so years since i was last there, but there were a few that surprised me. fair play to you ladies. anyway, i digress... it was quite odd to be at church because i don't care much for organized religion, but it's good to see things are improving. About a year ago, i went for a solo hike out in western Mass and on my way back, stoned to the bjesus on Kodiak and screaming James Taylor songs at the top of my lungs, stripped to my undies with the top down on my car, i got to thinking about what defines my sense of spirituality. in my heightened state of self-awareness, i believe i got as close to nailing it down as i've ever been: i happened to look east and see one single tree standing above the others, and i thought "God is the tallest tree in the forest, and that is all i'll ever need to understand." About six months later i found out that tree was really a cell phone tower disguised to look like a tree. so that sucked. anyway... i forgot what the fuck all this had to do with christmas... i guess there's a god connection there somewhere.... OH- remembered: got to talking with some right-wing redneck dude at a bar (nice guy, went to middleschool together), and he was all "i'm tired of all this touchy-feely PC bullshit! no one's going to tell ME i can't say 'merry christmas'!" then he turned around and said 'merry christmas' to a Jewish guy.... priceless. hope you all had a wonderful time with family and friends, and i hope the majority of you got drunk this weekend and slept with someone who went to your highschool. cheers-

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FEEDBACK

ok so i've learned something about my audience: you don't respond well to the personal rants and raves on my blog but you all perk up your ears like curious little deer when i mention 'sex toys' or 'nudity'... cheeky bastards, you... one of you has gone so far as to point out a commercially available product that promises to give me 'hours of pleasure' and is 'designed for discrete storage' (which means it looks like a flashlight when "sheathed" according to the website). there are two distinct problems i can identify with this product: 1) no one would or could possibly mistake it for a flashlight, and 2) i personally was not designed for 'hours of pleasure,' a fact that, unfortunately, has been proven time and time again. what if i can't provide it with hours of pleasure? will i feel inadequate? will the sex toy become frustrated and bitter? will our relationship become awkward and passive aggressive, and will my sex toy eventually seek affection elsewhere? frankly, i can't handle that kind of pressure... but then again, there's no reason to sabotage a relationship before it even starts, right?

ironically, i'm warming up to my naked-once-a-month vow as the weather cools off... i'll entertain any creative suggestions you might have as to the location of the first innudification. muahhahahaaaa....

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THE FRIENDSTER

new rule: don't drink and friendster. you know how sometimes you get calls on sunday morning from friends you drunk-dialed the night before and they're all "dude, you must have been pretty drunk last night, you were hilarious!"? well it's, like, a million times funnier when they're complete strangers.... ....made some new friends, though....

bitchin'

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THE BOY

holy crap, i'm bus'in mad tequila shots with sam's little brother... i just asked him if 'tequila' had one 'l' or two... he had to look at the bottle! ahhhh!!! we're watching american chopper and talking some mad white-boy, hebrew, vermont jive. awww yea! he just pointed out that i used the word 'breast' in a sentence and didn't mean tya-tties. i must be slippin'

will smith is the man. a lot of people say i remind them of a white will smith... i try to take that as a compliment.... aw shizzle, i'm up for a T-shot. beotches! much love. xoxoxo

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THE BLOODY MARY

can i just tell you that i feel like i've just discovered the goddamn meaning of life? a friend of mine made me the best goddamn bloody mary i've ever had, and he didn't even get to put in all the ingredients! it's the horseradish, people! it's the horseradish that makes my tongue dance like a twisted little meth-addict sugarplum fairy!! oh sweet rapture, horseradish, sweet golden dreams of naked angels and warm olalaberry pie!!! wait.... do i sound like a raving alcoholic or what? on the other hand, i'd trade my TV for just one luscious gallon of E's bloody mary, and that thing picks up and descrambles satellite signals from fucking outer space, people! hooo-yea.

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THE PAST

i can remember about 4 or 5 years along the way where it was pretty touch-and-go. it's no secret to anyone who knew me then that i had a 'unique' family experience growing up; not bad in the classical sense of, you know, alcoholism and abuse, but not what you might call 'pleasant.' (a few of you lucky punters got to witness this first hand... lucky you!) there were times when it was pretty bad, when i would come home from school, walk up to my room and not leave until the next morning... usually this happened in 3 or 4 month blocks of time... just trying to be as invisible as possible; never saying a word to anyone, never seeing another person. on the other hand, i figured it was better than the alternative: when things were going well i was only waiting for them to fall apart anyway. from when i was about 12 to about 17, my father and i probably spent about 10 good days together when we were together at all. then i left for college, and things calmed down and we started to get along again... pretty well actually. one day i got angry and brought up the fact that i thought he was a shitty father through most of those years (yes, obviously, that's a stupid stupid destructive thing to do, but gimme a break, i was all about the repression back then... luckily i've changed, right? right?). i succeeded in pissing him off because what the hell was he supposed to say anyway? that he was sorry? well, i pushed him into it. but you can't erase all that with a 'fine, i'm sorry, ok?' and you can't ask someone to just apologize for something like that. it wasn't real.

then one day he took me aside and told me about his father, and how he drank and beat his wife, and how he ignored my dad for most of his life. it was dad's way of saying he was sorry he made so many mistakes along the way, and why he didn't know how to be a role model. at that point, his apology became real to me. i love my dad, and i can imagine how shitty it was for him when he was a kid, so i forgive him; he made his penance long before i did.

of course this all happened a long time ago and hasn't come up since- it's just one tiny example that reminds me to let all that shit stay and die in the past; to start clean again. if you don't, these things will haunt you like demons every goddamn day of your life.

everyone has some silly bullshit to deal with; something that seems important in the short term - i'd just rather we'd all suck it up and went out of our way to show people we're sorry for what we've done. there's a careless irresponsibility blowing in the trees these days, like the ripples in the pool cease to exist when they reach the tips of our fingers. our collective attention span shortens by the day, and our focus is beginning to narrow. i believe i've done my best to reach out beyond my own limits, speak to and treat people in a meaningful way, and put myself on the line when it mattered. so far you've all made me believe it's been worth it.

now quit being so touchy-feely. i'm sick of all this emotional trash. go out, get drunk, and have sex with the largest person you can find. buck like a rodeo cowboy, and wave your hat triumphantly in the air while you do it. fuck yea.

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THE PIRACY

decided about 10 minutes ago that i'd get really drunk before bed (you know... to kill the pain and all), but before i did, i decided to download the Dave Mattews discography (yaaaaarghhhh, piracy!!!) because i miss having sex with highschool girls. is that wrong? that's not wrong. woooo hoooo!

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THE INTERNET

i failed to find a single sex toy online that appealed to me... apparently, the majority of sex toys on the market are designed for women's, shall we say, 'less accessable' pleasure. men, it seems, are much easier to please without mechanical intervention. i did, however, find a whopping majority of really hardcore pornography which, of course, failed to surprise me in the least. i started thinking that there should be a lot, a lot, more softcore pornography in the mainstream. take las vegas as an example; with few exceptions, every billboard within 10 miles of the strip features extremely attractive women (and men i'm told) in extremely attractive poses wearing extremely attractive clothing (not prominently featured). while this display does, indeed, promote thoughts of nasty, nasty sex, the billboards are far from taboo. this is what many social conservatives (oh let's just pick jerry falwell for a fun example) call the 'corruption of american values,' and what i call the 'humanization of our culture.' here's my plan: mainstream sex that is not sensationalized does not exist, and the majority of commercially available sex forums fall into the 'sin city' column; therefore, i propose to increase the proportion of softcore, artistic 'pornography' (aka NUDITY) in this fair city of mine. i vow to be naked in public at least once a month until i leave this place, hopefully better than i found it. furthermore, i will post photographic proof of my gurilla sexification to show all of you that the sight of a naked person may not ispire thougts of nasty sex!! (ha!). my fellow americans, join me- do your part to clean up sex and bring it to the mainstream. especially if you have really nice boobs.

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THE BUCKS

i've been spending a TON of money lately on just god knows what around here; yesterday i bought an entire jacket made from cashmere, and i've never even had a cashmere sweater until this year (it's less itchy, but is it worth tripple the price of regular wool? does this make me a racist?). All this money spending, contrary to popular belief, has failed to make me feel good. i'm not a satisfied shopper. clothing, shoes, watch, jacket, dinner, gifts... hell even REI shizzle doesn't give me that oh-god-i-just-ate-another-Choco-Taco endorphin rush. i suppose i'll have to graduate to the one consumable that might actually thrill me: sex toys. as of december 8, 2004 i own zero sex toys.

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THE BREW

aw man, this day just keeps getting better and better. i just got home and my apartment smells like beer... yesterday sam and i brewed up a nice, tasty batch of bavarian triple-fermented lager, and those little yeast-ies are going to town on the 2.173 cups of sugar we dumped in there. they're like our little pets; seamonkeys that get us loaded. that smell is just magical... reminds me of county stadium (aka miller park post-20th century). my dad and i used to brew beer when i lived at home, so now our little corner of boston's got that cozy, alcoholic, warm-christmas-y, feeling. ahhhhhh....
speaking of good news, much love to my girl Casey for getting into med school this week... don't know how you kids do it these days.
Q: why does TNT always play The Mummy on sunday afternoon?

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THE GALL

so i started thinking about what annoys people and what annoys me today... i was thinking about all this on my long, cold-ass walk back to my car this morning because i spent my very last dollar (very last; i have to wait until goddamn payday to eat again) on breakfast for not me, and i couldn't afford T fare. then it occurred to me: we're all spoiled wankers. yes, me too. when i'm done typing this i'm going to drive home in my car (paid for), sit in my huge-ass apartment (w/ butler's pantry!), watch the Pac whup up on the eagles on my expensive-ass flatscreen (present from me to me), and listen to every femur-crunching sound on our badass Klipsch audio system (thank you sam). so i am spoiled, but maybe i feel as if i've earned the right to not take shit from every goddamn person on the planet. rrrrrrrrrrrr! then some people stopped me on the Mass ave bridge to ask directions, and while they were smiling, waving, and driving away i saw one of the bumper stickers on the back of their car: "THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE AREN'T THINGS"... (one of the others read: "BUSH IS A CUNT"... so fair play to them)... food for thought. i instantly melted, and standing there in the sun, over the river, just on the cusp of the ocean i realized how fantastic it is to get worked up over stupid shit. after all, the greatest injustice in my mind is that i seem to be the only one who worries about all these dumb little annoyances, while everyone else goes about their business feeling as if they've never done anything a'tall to warrant any manner of culpability. should i start cramming myself into this self-centered, self-indulgent mold? no man. shit no. that's a no-fucking-thank-you-negatory good buddy. i'm so goddamn proud of myself, i could crap tiffany cufflinks right here in my chair. if i can still get worked up about stupid shit, it means i still care enough about you miserable fucks to worry about you... if not i'd just offer you a big, juicy, gofuckyourself burger to eat. it's what keeps me out of the shadows whence lurks a monster crouched, waiting to attack me testicles-first (and why shouldn't it go for the sack?), to gnaw out my insides and turn me into some superficial facsimile of a person. i suppose that's why i like to start stupid shit with some people, just to remind them they can get worked up over stupid shit. god, i'm such a tricky little bastard, ain't i? muuaahahahahaaaaa! sleep well, kiddies, and remember to stay out of the shadows, the best things in life aren't things, bush is a cunt, there ain't no such thing as a pop-slut, and i'm still keeping a benevolent, watchful eye on you. i want your souls to grow up, be happy, and marry nice jewish lawyers, the lot of you. thanks for getting me so worked up you ungrateful bastards... you might actually turn me into a halfway-decent human being after all. cheers-

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THE KID

there are certain mysteries in life that cannot be explained... can anyone guess what i'm about to say? anyone? bueller? it's Prince. i'm on a Prince kick. did you read my last entry? read it. i like prince; i saw Purple Rain again last night. it's not a great movie by any means; it will never complete with bloated blockbusters like Titanic or Police Academy 4, but there's just something about that movie that makes it great. of course... that thing is Prince. i think you really have to understand why it works. dig if you will a picture: a 4'8" half-black man with an 7 inch curly afro and a pencil-thin-moustache wearing a purple, velvet suit, white pirate's blouse, and black velvet, high-heeled boots, semi-masturbating on stage with androgynous dancers licking their instruments in the backlit fog.... then remember you're in downtown MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, in the same town as GARRISON KIELLOR, in the same town as former GOVERNOR VENTURA... but it works. god help me it works. why? because Prince knows he's SO FUCKING AWESOME, and therefore he gets all the lay-DAYS. on the other hand, how many girls would get all over me if i were wearing that suit/boots/blouse/afro/moustache ensemble? guess there's only one way to find out...

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THE MEDIA

i like to set my alarm to talk radio so i don't fixate on the first thing that wakes me up in the morning (e.g. the Limbo song... nothing beats the torture of having that stupid stupid melody stuck in your head all day long. ugh). normally there's no problem. today i was slightly hungover and didn't want to walk across the room to hit the snooze bar, so i finally got a taste of what wakes me up in the morning. oddly, it's a conservative talk radio show [note: contact with all things ultra-right-wing makes my skin sizzle]. today's topic? Canada. yes, my dear friends, the children of limbaugh have turned their idle judgement towards the sleepy nation to the north... and they are displeased. with canada. they don't like canada. that's not a joke, either, they really don't like canada. can anyone tell me when canada seriously fucked with us (please watch that war of 1812 shit, that was the british)? canada. oooooooooo! the canadians! are you fucking kidding me? i can't tell you how many times i heard 'if it wasn't for us there wouldn't be a canada!' first of all, you're an idiot. second of all, we're not talking about the goddamn west bank, this is canada. no 'evil' world power has ever tried to invade canada. oh, what about the russians you say? first of all, you're an idiot. second of all joe mccarthy was an idiot [wisconsinite, yes, but idiot nonetheless], and now he's dead, but he's still an idiot. but i digress. so what did this radio dj have to say about canada? the're a bunch of liberal, socialist, pantywaists (did i spell that right? egad, i've never tried to be an ignorant bigot before!), because in their 'socialist' nation (ha!), the healthcare is so bad, even the canadians cross the border to america (p.s. it's the united states of america, you ethnocentrists)!! that must make canada really bad, eh? eh, hoser? ahem... hi, my name is Ryan and i'm a longime listener of your show.... love your show man... anyway, i just wanted to point out that americans spend about 1 billion dollars on canadian drugs each year, so you should probably watch your back in case some liberal, latte-drinkin', book-readin', subaru-drivin', pot-smokin', pinko-commie, bleeding-heart busts you on it.... love your show, man, love your show... yea, i hate gays... mexicans too. of course, canada can only entertain you for so long, eventually you have to switch over to france, another benign socially-functional country that makes an easy target. lo and behold, some brilliant caller managed to drool out, 'i mean, like, what has france ever given us?!' he whined, as if the mob would somehow realize they had forgotten what they had gathered for... i thought to myself, (smugly) oh... i dunno... how about.... um.... the fucking DEMOCRACY you see so fit to cram down the throats of everybody in the goddamn world, you moron. It seems there are more than a few people in this nation that really don't like to think things through before vomiting their ill-conceived thoughts on the radio... feel free to visit this website for a more eloquent perspective. Also, he called Prince a "fairy," and that just ain't right. no sir, not at all. nobody, and i mean nobody fucks with Prince.

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ME IMPERTURBE

oh and check this shit out- the illest shizzle from my dawg Pete Lang in lockdown.

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THE MEAT BUFFET

i should point out that i was a vegetarian for about 18 months; i put the last nail in that coffin when i went to greenfield for the all-you-can-eat meat buffet on monday. of course, i've eaten plenty of meat since i fell off the meat wagon (ew! but clever!), but never have i ever eaten three chicken hearts in one mouthful. hell, i didn't even know you could eat chicken hearts... i was tricked into it anyway... whatever. i went with a colleague of mine that shares my thou-shalt-never-half-ass-anything mentality, and we went in with our goddamn guns blazing. dudes come by with giant knives and skewers with dripping fricken chunks of marinated meet to slice off a piece a' dat, to serve you a greasy slab 'o ticker-bustin skin biscuits... ugh. my large intestine just twisted itself into a cheap-ass circus balloon poodle. two goddamn words people: MEAT HANGOVER.

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