Things my mother shoulda taught me

Picking your nose when you've got a hangnail...ill advised.
Aye chihuahua.

Note to self: buy batteries

Potential outfits carried to work in huge shopping bag: 4

Hours spent discussing potential outfits with Kit: 1.5

Hours killed between end of workday and beginning of Big Event: 4.5

Money spent during aforementioned killed hours: $40

Money spent on ticket to Big Event: $15

Beers consumed: 1.75

Time spent talking to boy I went through all of this to see: None

Cab ride home: Interminable. Costly.

Hours of sleep: 4

Next steps: Drink heavily. Forget entire incident. Get another cat.

Please don't feed the rock stars

Yo, NY/NJ monkeys...Mishka's got a show tonight at Southpaw, 9 PM. You should go. The performance might include some members of wicked-cool Brooklynite trio Beat the Devil, even. (Besides Mishka, I mean.)

Just don't buy the kid any drinks. Trust me on this. It's really unnecessary, and may adversely affect the quality of your Mishka Shubaly rock show experience. Thanks for your cooperation.

Wet cleanup on aisle 3

Kit and I just sat 15 feet from LL Cool J and watched him eat his lunch.

He looked pretty much just like this...

'Cept, sadly, he had a shirt on.

Dang.

First things first

The working title for my "best of" album: Greatest Tits.

Fucking brilliant, right?

Damn. I really need to learn to play an instrument or something, real quick like.

Cleavage enhancement for the soul

"Listen, kiddo," he said. "I'm totally prepared to function as an emotional Wonderbra."

There was a moment of astonished silence prior to my collapse into gasping hysteria.

He could be a contender.

Reproduction = bad idea

Imagine if you will...

Exhausting day at work. Long, frustrating commute home to the picket-fenced suburban domicile. The standard-issue working mom trudges in the door, slips off her Nine West mid-heeled pumps, and slumps into a celadon microsuede Pottery Barn chair with a huge, chest-heaving sigh.

The inevitable thumpita-thumpita of little feet in absurdly expensive sweatshop-made sneakers ensues.

"Mommy, Mommy! Guess what! I know what I want for my birthday, and it only costs five hunnert dollars!"

Mommy's head lolls resignedly toward the sound of her offspring's voice, one eyebrow raised in Spock-like incredulity.

"Five hundred dollars, huh? That's pretty pricey, [insert pretentious suburban child name of your choice here]. What is it that you want? And hello, by the way."

"I want the Ghostface Killah Doll, Mommy!"

Mommy sits up, face now screwed into an expression of extreme bewilderment, bordering on horror. Her child stares up at her, eyes gleaming with anticipation, mouth dangling open, not quite drooling.

"What the hell? You want me spend five hundred dollars on a Wu-Tang action figure? Is that what you're telling me?"

"WU-TANG MOMMY, WU-TANG! You can get it on the internet!" The child is jumping up and down gleefully now. "You said the h-word, Mommy."

Inside, she wonders in alarm where and when she went so profoundly wrong. How is it that her child became familiar with Wu-Tang? Her thoughts begin to drift back...back to the booze-soaked, carefree days of her single life, when the then-beloved Wu-Tang Clan provided background music for endless bar crawls and a blurry succession of one night stands...

Mommy jerks herself back to reality with a decisive shake of her dyed-blonde head.

"You know that you're turning six, right? No. Not a chance. Absolutely not."

The jumping abruptly ceases and is immediately replaced by wide-eyed lip-quivering.

"But MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMY...I want the Ghostface Killah doll!"

"Not happening, kiddo."

"But MOMMY! The child's voice has taken on the familiar wheedling whine of attempted persuasion/coercion. "He says real cool stuff!"

Mommy pauses, momentarily gripped by morbid curiousity.

"Yeah? Like what?"

A glimmer of hope crosses the child's face. There is no hesitation.

"'Yo bitch, I fucked your friend ya you stank ho!'"

Mommy, needless to say, finds herself incapable of speech.

"Daddy already said I could have it!"


Thank you, Popbitch, both for the link, and for the added incentive to buy condoms. Lots and lots of condoms.

Hate is a strong word

Sometimes, not strong enough.

In general, I hate memes. But I like Shan, and she's tagged me twice now, and I blew off the last one. And this one is about music, at least. And it saves me from having to put much actual thought into writing a post. So fine, okay, whatever. Here goes:

One song from early childhood: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Elton John (Yes, I know, I'm old. Fuck off.)

One song you associate with your first big love: Hysteria, Def Leppard (We were 14, and Shawn had the most amazing mullet...sigh...)

One song that reminds you of one of your holidays: Something I Can Never Have, Nine Inch Nails (San Diego, 1991...teen angst on a beach...Oh, the gheyness...)

One song you like, but hate to admit: MMMBop, Hanson (Again, I know, and fuck off.)

One song listened to while you where lovesick: Were I capable of such emotions, it would Losing My Religion, REM. Thank god I'm such a heartless bitch.

One song you listened to most often in your life: Watching the Detectives, Elvis Costello

One song which is your favorite instrumental: Miles Davis' Funeral, Morphine

One song by one of your favorite bands: Million $ Man, The Giraffes

One song in which you recognize yourself or through which you somehow feel understood: Probably Will, Concrete Blonde

One song which reminds you to a certain occasion (and the occasion): Party Up, DMX. Summer, 2001. Imagine ten or so extremely white, extremely drunk, heavily tattooed assholes sitting on the outdoor patio of a dive bar adjacent to a busy, smarmy, crime-ridden street. Imagine then that the biggest, drunkest, most brilliantly retarded of them, apropos of nothing, busts out with "Y'ALL GON' MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND!" And then, of course, that the remaining nine assholes respond, in unison, with "UP IN HEAH, UP IN HEAH!" Yeah, good times. Now perhaps you understand why I don't live in Denver anymore.

One rap/ hip hop song you like: Anything Public Enemy ever did.

One song that helps you relax: Magic & Loss, Lou Reed

One song which symbolizes a great time in your life: Coney Island, Death Cab for Cutie

One song which is your most favorite at the moment: Wish You All the Best, New Professionals

One song you would dedicate to your best friend: Megacolon, Fischerspooner

One song no one besides you likes: Yes, I DO have Insane Clown Posse in my iPod. And yet again I must say...fuck off.

One song you like because of its lyrics: Drooping the Boom, Mishka Shubaly

One song you like which is not in English: Anything by the Buena Vista Social Club. If I hadda pick one song off that record, it'd be Chan Chan. Or Dos Gardenias...hmmm...

One song that helps you work out: Like I work out. Ever. Pssh.

One song that should be played on your funeral: End of the World, REM (duh...)

So there you go, little missy. Tag me again and I'll fly over there & pee in yer yard, or somethin'.

And now, just to ensure my place in the American Museum of Hypocritical Shitwads, I'll share the joy with Aaron, Charles, Dan, Tom, and Natalie.

St. Paddy's rollin' in his grave...

Cheers to Conor Ryan, my favorite invisible Irishman. See you next time me & The Hoff make it to Dublin, my friend.

For the rest of you...if you wanna maybe get a dose of real Irish culture today, read this guy's blog. Beats the hell outta barfing up all that green beer.

And today's word is...

crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:

1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate.

Now use it in a sentence...

"Helen was in quite a crapulous state the morning after Coco and Richie's engagement celebration, but in light of the occasion's joyous nature, she didn't much mind."

Congratulations, you kids. I sure do love ya.

And now I'm going back to bed.

Why Helen doesn't get invites to corporate luncheons anymore

"I AM CORNHOLIO!
YOUR CRAPPUCINO HAS AWAKENED MY BUNGHOLE!"

For the record, it only happened once. People are so fucking stiff, I swear. And it was really good cappucino. What can I say?

In retrospect, I'd have been better with "Where I come from, we have no bungholes!" That way, I might have been protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act. Not having a bunghole could certainly be classified as a disability, of sorts.

Oh well. There's always the Christmas Party.

That's my girl...

Only Alexis Tirado could expose the filthiest filth hidden in the minds of America's reality TV stars. Click here to read her awesomely dirty interviews with former Project Runway contestants.

To Jay McCarroll, wherever you are...I love you, bitch. Let's make evil ass babies and sell 'em on eBay, wanna?

I've always hated Maya Angelou...

Okay, not really. But I saw this quote of hers today, and now I kinda do:

"Nothing will work unless you do."

Well, that's just great. Way to throw a huge fucking wrench into my life plan, lady. Thank you so, SO much.

Sigh.

MC NP on SNL

I don't care how many times it's been reposted, or on how many sites...it could never be enough.

Natalie Portman raps...and my, but don't she look good doin' it.

For those of you who are all worked up about who did or didn't win Oscars last night...does it really matter? Come on now. Go have you some sex or somethin', and get on over it.

Having fun with assholes

New Giraffes video.

Aaron looks like a post-modern Charlie Chaplin gone horribly wrong. Hot.

Fighting the fight

Warning: Don't look for the joke today, bitches, coz there ain't one.

World-famous gay blogger and friend of Damnation, Joe.My.God, turned up the volume on his anti-Bush campaign this week. This was a timely and admirable decision, especially given today's damning Bush news and the squillion jillion people who visit Joe's site on a daily basis. He's got plenty of eyes and ears turned his way, and he's using his forum to educate and incite people to action. Joe's a righteous dude.

We bloggerati, the much-maligned bastard children of a three-way between news media, free speech, and increasingly inexpensive internet access, have been responsible for breaking and spreading much of the news that more traditional outlets doesn't see fit to print. There are many reasons for this, but the top three, in my view, are the facts that a) we're obviously not held to established journalistic standards which purportedly require extensive corroboration and fact-checking, b) the blogosphere provides at least a semblance of anonymity, which frees us to run our mouths a bit more than "real" journalists, and most importantly, c) these more traditional outlets are owned by big, evil corporate conglomerates who profit from reporting what the government tells them to, thereby serving both their interests and those of the douchebag regime du jour. America's mainstream media has been virtually monopolized by the man.

There are, however, alternative news sources, far over and above what the blogosphere (or tardosphere, as I affectionately refer to it) has to offer. Which brings me, at last, to my point.

Here's a great opportunity for you to support independent media and throw a big "fuck you!" in Dubya's direction, all at once...

Volunteers are organizing a benefit concert and educational event to show New York City’s support for Independent Media.

The money raised will go to Democracy Now!, an award-winning independent national daily news program airing on over 350 stations in North America.

The event will begin at 7:30pm at The Delancey, 168 Delancey Street, on Sunday, March 5th, 2006.

Five bands (Mental Notes, The Attorneys, The 76 Trombones, Zozo Afrobeat, and Ism) will perform, representing all different genres of music, and three speakers will address the issues facing independent media today.

Organizations and media outlets are invited to bring promotional and education material in order to set up an information booth on the third floor of the Delancey, where a dozen tables will be set up for participants.

There will be a $10 cover to see the bands in the downstairs area, but the rest of the event is open to the public, including the bar on the ground floor and the enclosed roof deck upstairs.

If your organization, or an organization you are affiliated with in some way, would like to set up a table upstairs, please contact sjcouture@hotmail.com.

I strongly encourage y'all to check out some great music, support independent media, and drink the pain away. It's what Jesus would do. And maybe (Joe My) God, too.