A Peanut Butter Snack? Don't Mind If I Do!

This wouldn't be traumatic or anything...

In other news, Bum With a Dog has gone from a cheetah's pace to a snail's. Practice today was pretty boring and unproductive, but we did write two (three, but only two are decent) new songs which is two more than we did last week when we had to worry about Johnny Law busting in and taking my guitar player away. That, however, is neither here nor there. Or, rather, it's here and there. I don't know. If you want to see our shitty myspace site, go here: http://www.myspace.com/bumwithadog. When we record around Christmas some songs will be streamed on this site, but that's a month or so away. I'm getting really terrified about recording. I've got a bad feeling I'm not even close to keeping a beat, and I'm attempting the exact same beat every song. It seems like everyone I know is a better drummer than me.

In conclusion, life sucks. I'm going to watch High Noon now. I fart in your general direction. *fart noise*

Sorry I Forgot About You, Blog

It's been a long time since I've updated this monkey. Sadly, I've been wasting most of my Internet time on Myspace because I'm incredibly lame. It's probably even more lame than having a blog. Oh, well.

I've started a new band with my friend Dave. We're called Bum With a Dog. I'm playing drums and singing and Dave is playing guitar and maybe doing some singing. We're hoping to start playing shows in mid to late December but I'm not positive that we'll be able to pull that off. I'm a really shitty drummer. And trying to sing while playing isn't making it much easier. We have a couple of pretty cool songs, though. I think they are, at least. We're hoping to make an E.P. next month, too, but only like a live 4-track recording. I don't want to record in a more advanced fashion than that.

Tomorrow I go to Kansas City only to return Thanksgiving evening where I will probably get drunk with Jon at Eastside. Unless I'm penniless. That would suck. I totally want to get drunk at some point. Nothing to be proud of, but it seems to be what I'm good at.

Time to go to bed and listen to some Sharpling.

I Want My God and I Want My Family! Everything's Ungodly!

I've been sick all week. I've got the strep throat. It has sucked. I missed seeing Spoon last night for this crap. Dammit.

Anyway... since I've been sick I've watched The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (shockingly horrible), Batman Begins (shockingly decent), read Factotum (good, of course) and had the fortune/misfortune to see the show Trading Spouses. Perhaps you've seen the promotions for the show featuring an orca-esque scream machine going on about gargoyles and god named Marguerite. Normally I wouldn't have seen this show but... let's just say I got lucky.


Stereogum was apparently sent a song that a band called Goes Cube wrote sampling some of the beautiful noises Marguerite made during her holy breakdown. All the band really did was put a Casio backbeat on it. The song wrote itself. It seems like the band wants it to be very clear that this song is merely a joke and they play real music which I listened to on Myspace and it was okay.

Point being, link over to Stereogum and listen to the song. Even if you didn't see the show you should find it amusing. Maybe. I think it's funny.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention. At the end of this show the guest mom's get to give a bunch of money to the family they stayed with. They decide who gets how much money and for what. Well, Marguerite, in the middle of her breakdown, ripped up the note that left all the money to her family and refused to accept any of it, ordering all of the non-believer cameramen out of her godly house. She refused to accept the money because she is a "god warrior". Hilariously, the guest mom donated 20 grand or so to Marguerite to get the gastric-bypass surgery she desperately wanted (and needs), but Marguerite ripped up the note and refused the money. Even more hilariously, it said at the end of the show that Marguerite changed her mind off camera and decided that her family would accept the money. Praise Jesus.

Dear Andy Rooney,

Please die already.

Thanks in advance.

Fake Violence is A.O.K.

Breaking Bonaduce just broke my fucking heart. I was sobbing like a baby. I want a kid. You don't have to worry about yourself when you have a kid, you just worry about the kid. I think I could be a good dad. I wouldn't have to go to rehab and I wouldn't cheat on the kid's mother and I wouldn't try to kill myself and my kid would love me unconditionally and it would rule.

Tonight I was groped by girls I've never met before more times than ever. Three times. I was more concerned about my wallet with four dollars in it being stolen than the general pleasure cause by a girl rubbing my bottom and thereabouts while dry humping another girl. Maybe that's natural, though. People don't want their wallet stolen. The girls laughed at me when I finally walked away.

I'm watching a movie called Maniac. It's kind of scary. The guy is a schitzophrenic who scalps women and nails their scalps to mannequins heads he keeps in his apartment. I used to worry that I would be schitzophrenic one day. It runs in the family. I think it sure would explain a lot. I can't even spell the word right and I'm too lazy to look it up. I wish the voices in my head would tell me how to spell it correctly. Oh, shit, this movie is violent! That ruled! Tom Savini knows his gore. Now the guy just handcuffed himself to one of his mannequins and he's sobbing like I was during Breaking Bonaduce. I'm going to stop drawing comparisons between me and this fictious character now so people won't think I want to start scalping prostitutes... because I don't. Seriously.

So, yeah, I got randomly groped by ladies and I saw a plethora of beautiful, pert breasts hanging out everywhere I looked, but it still kind of seemed like a shitty night where I went out when I didn't really want to in the first place. Jon and Mike's Black Flag band was good, though, even though I feel like I'm too old and fat and tired all the time to get into music like that anymore.

I need to get a job and play some basketball and start eating better and start reading better books. Shit Magnet is an easy enough read, but god it's stressing me out. I guess I don't relate to real violence very well.

Gotta go, this lady is about to get killed in some weird way. Fake violence is a.o.k. But not for my kid that I want that I will probably never have. Word.