Ideas to write about later, when I'm not this hungover

1. My theory on why automatic sinks and hand-dryers are fascistic attempts to crush our freedom and will inevitably lead to a soulless dystopian military state.

2. My parent's dog's attempts to be friends with the neighbor's cat.

3. The inadequacies of South Dakotan karaoke (when you play regular music between karaoke, we can't sing as much dummy!).

4. Chili

5. How hungover I am.

Are hangovers worse here?

Okay so my last posting was a little acidic and mean and pretentious and I apologize. Gin makes a man mean. Even though I was drinking Coors Light. Whatever.

So my main buddy here in SD is Amber. Last night I went to a small town called Hayti, South Dakota to watch her and our friend Heather and some other people bowl. It was like a league game, and all of the other teams consisted of little old ladies. There's not much better than drinking a beer, eating some pizza (which was mysteriously really good) and watching little old ladies hobble up to the alley to "Sexy Back" and then throw a strike and go crazy. It was the best thing ever. I'll still be here for next week's game, and I hope to have the fan page up for Amber's team by then. They're called "Castlewood Farmer's Elevator," after their sponsor, but I think I'm gonna jazz it up and name them either "Pink Fire" or "The Fuck Offs." I think the little old ladies would dig the last one.

Also, there's a sign when entering Hayti that reads "375 friendly people live here!" It didn't say anywhere how many assholes lived there. I would feel sorry for them that they're not represented on the sign if they weren't such assholes.

But anyways, Hayti. Yeah. Thumbs up.

I also had an awkward run-in with a dude that I graduated high school with. We never really talked much in school; it's not that we were enemies or did anything bad to eachother, we just didn't really hang. Then last night I'm at this bar with a bunch of people and he's talking to another friend of mine, then comes over to where I'm sitting. I looked at him and said "Hey what's up" kind of quick-like because I was mid-conversation, and then he just grabbed the chair next to me and walked away. It was weird.

Holy shit that last paragraph was the most boring fucking thing I've ever written and I'm sorry I made you read that.

You win this round, Christmas Vacation

No, this is not about the Chevy Chase movie. Sorry.

So I began my Christmas "break" today, which consists of 9 (nine[NINE?!?!?]) days in South Dakota. I started it off with a plane ride from NYC to Minneapolis and I sat between 6 babies and a puppy. For reals. It was really fun. Yeah. Then in the Minneapolis airport I was at the gate to fly back to Watertown, SD (my hometown), and this African woman in full flowing African-style robes was at the gate. Now, being that I live in New York, I see this all the time, but all of the other people waiting for the South Dakota flight were staring at her. I didn't expect to have the "oh yeah, that's why I moved away" moment until I was acually IN South Dakota, but they apparently have turned it (racism) up a notch since last I visited.

Then I get to the bar with my good buddy Amber and more ridiculousness is awaiting me. This one kid that I've known for a while comes up to me and asks about the Whitest Kids TV show coming out soon. We talked about it for a bit, and then he asked me if he could be in the show if we did a second season. I told him that if he were around, maybe he could be an extra. His reply: "Nah, I don't need to do all that. I just wanna write and co-produce it." Naturally, I signed him on the spot.

Then this other totally wasted guy that I've never met before starts telling me about his novel. He tells me that it's basically about sex and drugs and drinking and all of his crazy adventures. I asked, "Okay, so kind of like Hunter S. Thompson or Jack Kerouac?" And he said "Dude, I am sooo much sicker than Hunter S. Thompson." And then he threw up, so maybe he was right.

Also, when he first mentioned that he was writing a novel he said that it was "a novel, but totally non-fiction." I'm not really sure what that means. To me, that's kind of like saying "it's like a carrot, but it's an apple."

That didn't make sense. Whatevs. So yeah. 8 more days. Let's do this!

Back to the SD

I actually wrote this like 15 hours ago, but couldn't put it up 'til now. Sorry.

Well I'm leaving civilization for 9 days to go see my family, who lives in South Dakota. Actually, they're pretty civilized there (they have an Arby's and apparently a Starbucks now), so never mind. My 12 year-old brother* asked my dad when "the Nintendo Wii is getting here," meaning me, but little does he know that I'm not bringing it! Ha! Take that! You're not even old enough to drive! But anyways, I'm not bringing it because he's getting a PS2 and I don't wanna show up Santa. Actually, he's 12, so it's probably just "my parents" now and not Santa. Whatevs. I still believe. Last night at karaoke I decided to do a little Santa-ing myself. I was handing out candy canes to certain singers, and by "certain" I mean "cute Asian girls." Certain readers of this blog that were not present totally missed out on free candy. Now, I know that makes me sound like a dirty old jolly elf, but I wasn't alone; Scollins and Eli were totally helping me "judge." Okay, this Internet Garage session is getting expensive, gotta go. I'll blog about South Dakota when I'm there. Here's a preview:

Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing NothingHappy Holidays!



*I thought about writing simply "my 12 year-old" just to freak people out.

Okay

So I'm at my old apartment, where they still have the internet (which is still in my name and I still am paying for, but let's not think about that), so let's party.

Well, I can still taste the weird fake barf. I have showered, brushed my teeth, and even eaten a White Chocolate Reese's peanut butter cup (don't bother, they're too crumbly), but it's still there. I have determined that my body was so overloaded by the hummus/salsa combo it consisted of that I can now only subsist on hummus and salsa. At the same time. In a Dixie Cup. If anyone knows of any good recipes consisting of hummus and salsa mixed together in a Dixie Cup, please let me know.

I've been re-watching the British "The Office" the last few days. It is of course hilarious, but it has also renewed my gladness at not working in an office anymore while simulatneously renewing my fear of having to go back to one some day. I also was very depressed by the fact that the character Gareth (a weaselly mean little pervert) has a more eventful love life than mine (there was one scene in one episode where he danced with one girl).

No "But aren't you a weaselly little pervert, Timmy?" comments. Please.

I bought my cat these bubbles. They're just like the bubbles you blew out of the little bottle when you were a kid/raver, but these bubbles contain cat nip. It makes her freak out. Cat owners take note.

It really freaks me out that I've only been living alone for a week and already the only things I have to write about are TV shows and my cat.
Oh, and this is my friend Jordan's music. Check it.

Well...

I still don't have my computer and internet set up, so these bloggings that approximately 22-37 of you love to read will be rather sparse for a bit. I've been too busy to get it all arranged. Yesterday was all about our Whitest Kids show, and this morning I had to stand on a stage and act drunk with a mouth full of fake vomit while Shandi danced around in a "Sexy Santa" suit. I know that sounds like some kind of crazy fever dream but it was real. Trust me.

Word to the wise: The last thing you should do after holding a bunch of fake vomit (made from hummus and salsa) in your mouth is eat Chinese food. My stomach is being a fucking asshole right now.

P.S. I leave town for NINE DAYS AT HOME WITH MY FAMILY on Tuesday. I'm doing this by choice. It should be action-packed, which means I'll probably post like 89070987 times over the holidays.

P.P.S. I posted a MySpace blog the other day, but the internet cafe's machines wouldn't let me post it here for some reason, so you're totally missing out. I think it was me bitching about dropping a couch on my foot.

Yeah, you're totally missing out.

I can still taste the fake barf.

I'm going to finish packing now.

Hold all my calls.

Hey I'm doing standup on Sunday at The Beauty Bar, on 14th betwixt 2nd and 3rd. 9pm. I heard that sometimes they have a bikini contest after the comedy show (seriously), so you should probably stop by.

More people should say "betwixt."

I AM LAZY

I AM LAZY

The movers (my buddy Abdel) will be here in 16 hours and I have done almost NOTHING. What is my problem? Why am I writing this right now?!?!? I should be PACKING. BAD TIMMY. Okay. I think I'm gonna go pack now.
Hey look, a thing to look at!

Dammit.

I had a pretty nerdy day the other day

On Tuesday I went to a movie by myself. It was "The Fountain," and yes it was extremely confusing. I liked it though. Then I went home and played video games about comics, and then next day was New Comic Book Day, so I went and bought a bunch of nerd shit and then I had to go pick up cables for my Nintendo Wii. As I was leaving I scoped out this place near Grand Street in Chinatown, this store that said "COMICS" above it in huge white letters. I thought maybe it was a new comic shop so I walked by. All I saw was a white room with a small man sitting at a desk.

So yeah, if anyone out there is looking for the center of the Matrix, it's near the Grand Street "D" train station in Manhattan.

That night I was watching "Clerks 2," a movie about nerds, and Sam calls me and tells me to report immediately to Williamsburg for a "Guitar Hero 2" tournament. I was eliminated first round even though I've beaten the song perfectly before. I blame it partially on nerves but mostly on the shitty wireless controller they had. I then had a 10-minute conversation about shitty wireless controllers. When I went home I didn't masturbate because let's face it, my night was nerdy enough.

So every single sentence I just wrote there was nerdy, except for this one, Batman.

Shit.

Can you make bombs out of deodorant?

I only ask because on my way to Rififi tonight I stopped into a store to buy some things that I thought I had quit (no, not porn, I would never quit that shit) and some dude there was buying one of each available brand of deodorant. Like 8 bars of it. Even as a smelly fat guy, I only ever have to buy one thing of deodorant at a time, so I had no idea what this guy was up to. I immediately ruled out "art" since I don't really believe in it, and he didn't seem like he was collecting deodorant, which I do believe in, so there was only one option left: terror. It seems to me that deodorant is one of those things that you can turn into an explosive, but maybe that's just because I watch "Fight Club" too much.
On the way home my cabbie was playing a lot of Sugar Ray music. I will never sing a karaoke song NOT by Sugar Ray again.




I hope to God you all understand that I was kidding about that Sugar Ray thing. I would never let Mark McGrath come between me and my friends.

Fragments of the last 24 hours

So last night the Whitest Kids played a show at Brandeis University in Waltham, Mass. Longtime readers* may remember that we went there on tour with Flogging Molly and ended up playing our own set after the rock concert, and the kids there liked it so much that they asked us back for a festival they were throwing. I was going to write a bunch of stuff about it, but just as I sat down, my mind was suddenly wiped because I sat through that crazy John Travolta Scientology-based movie "Battlefield Earth" in its entirety. It was so ridiculously boring that now I barely remember what happened to me in the last day. I do have a few recollections though, so here are the pieces I can remember:

-Playing our "Hitler Rap" music video to a primarily Jewish audience**.

-Winning back the audience's favor with a video about shit. Not everyone can laugh at genocide, but everyone laughs at poop.

-Going to a sweet party afterwards. It was your typical college party, with lots of booze, hot girls, their drunk boyfriends, and...an amazing cheese and vegetable spread?

-Watching Trevor bash open a bottle of wine on a brick wall and then drink it. He's totally leading the "Awesomest Whitest Kid" race right now.

-Sleeping in the warmest room I've even been in. It was at a kind of "faculty hotel" on campus that was normally reserved for rabbis, but somehow they decided to make a special exception for a bunch of drunk jerks. Anyways, it was so warm in there I had to sleep on the floor near the door so I could be cooled by the draft. I have a very ham-like quality about me and I was worried that I would be baked.

-Making ridiculous mix CDs with Trevor on the way home, containing hits like "Flagpole Sitta" and the "Benny Hill" theme.

Well that's all I can remember right now. Maybe more will come back after I watch an actual good movie.


*Yeah, right.
**We only played it because the festival organizers asked us to. We wouldn't just show a Hitler video at a Jewish school. We're not that stupid. I don't think.