I was emptying my spam folder, when i saw a mail with the title: "Penis theft panic hits city."
Mental image: A dastardly looking fellow, with curly mustache, cape and tophat, leaping over a fence and absconding into the darkness with a large sack full of dongs slung over his shoulder.
Sometimes, it's way too easy to entertain me.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I cut down trees, i wear high heels, suspenders and a bra...
The other day, I realized that despite being rather young, i've led an interesting life. This sudden realization was based solely on the fact that I could say "It was four in the morning, and I was eating pancakes in a diner full of transvestites" and be telling the truth.
I've shared this epiphany with Taco, and he decreed that the story must be told. So, I share.
It was after Shotgun Sodomy had played a show. Our bass player and drummer split early, so it was up to our guitarist, a roadie, and myself to bring the gear back from the club to the practice pad. By the time we got done with that, it was almost four in the morning. The three of us were tired as hell, and just as hungry. So, we decided to go to a nearby diner which was open twenty four hours. This diner was near an area where there are a good deal of bars and clubs that cater to homosexuals and transvestites, so seeing a tranny or two there in the wee hours wasn't unheard of.This time was different. The place was packed with trannies. Transvestites as far as the eye could see. We had to give pause, because face it; it isn't every day you walk into a diner full of transvestites. Apparently, one of the bars had some sort of exhibitionist ball or some-such, and this was the after crowd.Ultimately, it was no big deal, so the three of us got a table. Roadie and guitarist got omelettes and I got a plate of pancakes. Over the course of the meal, a tranny came to our table and asksed if she could sit with us. Being the genial folk we are, and really too tired to care either way, we said sure. She said we looked like interesting people.Now, this is where the story goes from interesting to borderline surreal. We have a conversation with her, and we tell her we're in a band and all that jazz. She asks us the usual questions, "What's it like being in a band?", "Do you have a lot of fun?" etc, and we answer. She then tells us she's a performer, who does sex shows. She then went on to tell us that her performance at the show earlier that evening involved dildos and anal play. Roadie is giggling like a schoolboy, because he's the type who can't help but laugh at dick and fart jokes. Guitarist is just giving me a "please, not while i'm eating" look. I, however am absolutely enthralled by this transvestite exhibitionist's story, and tell her to continue. I'm chowing down on my pancakes all the while, and her story of assplay isn't phasing me for a few reasons.
1. I'm not easy to gross out.
2. The story is absolutely interesting.
3. I love pancakes.
I don't think i've ever publicly expressed my love for them, but if ever there were a food to take the brunt of this fat guy's wrath, it is pancakes. If you have a plate of pancakes, and I have a plate of pancakes, and I have a fork that reaches all the way across the room to your plate, I begin to eat your pancakes. I. Eat. Your. Pancakes. NOM NOM NOM. I eat them up! But, I digress.
And so it went. We finished our meals, said goodbye to this really interesting person -Cindy, was her name-, and we all went home.
I've shared this epiphany with Taco, and he decreed that the story must be told. So, I share.
It was after Shotgun Sodomy had played a show. Our bass player and drummer split early, so it was up to our guitarist, a roadie, and myself to bring the gear back from the club to the practice pad. By the time we got done with that, it was almost four in the morning. The three of us were tired as hell, and just as hungry. So, we decided to go to a nearby diner which was open twenty four hours. This diner was near an area where there are a good deal of bars and clubs that cater to homosexuals and transvestites, so seeing a tranny or two there in the wee hours wasn't unheard of.This time was different. The place was packed with trannies. Transvestites as far as the eye could see. We had to give pause, because face it; it isn't every day you walk into a diner full of transvestites. Apparently, one of the bars had some sort of exhibitionist ball or some-such, and this was the after crowd.Ultimately, it was no big deal, so the three of us got a table. Roadie and guitarist got omelettes and I got a plate of pancakes. Over the course of the meal, a tranny came to our table and asksed if she could sit with us. Being the genial folk we are, and really too tired to care either way, we said sure. She said we looked like interesting people.Now, this is where the story goes from interesting to borderline surreal. We have a conversation with her, and we tell her we're in a band and all that jazz. She asks us the usual questions, "What's it like being in a band?", "Do you have a lot of fun?" etc, and we answer. She then tells us she's a performer, who does sex shows. She then went on to tell us that her performance at the show earlier that evening involved dildos and anal play. Roadie is giggling like a schoolboy, because he's the type who can't help but laugh at dick and fart jokes. Guitarist is just giving me a "please, not while i'm eating" look. I, however am absolutely enthralled by this transvestite exhibitionist's story, and tell her to continue. I'm chowing down on my pancakes all the while, and her story of assplay isn't phasing me for a few reasons.
1. I'm not easy to gross out.
2. The story is absolutely interesting.
3. I love pancakes.
I don't think i've ever publicly expressed my love for them, but if ever there were a food to take the brunt of this fat guy's wrath, it is pancakes. If you have a plate of pancakes, and I have a plate of pancakes, and I have a fork that reaches all the way across the room to your plate, I begin to eat your pancakes. I. Eat. Your. Pancakes. NOM NOM NOM. I eat them up! But, I digress.
And so it went. We finished our meals, said goodbye to this really interesting person -Cindy, was her name-, and we all went home.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Some things:
1. Throughout the world, struggling musicians who possess genuine talent wake up in a cold sweat, gibbering madness.
2. I think I'll see *ACTUAL* Chinese democracy before I see a free can of Dr. Pepper.
3. I try to avoid large chain music stores as much as possible. Why, you ask? Because those people are either idiots, soulless, or soulless idiots. I don't expect the people selling the music to know everything about music, but some degree of knowledge is nice. And also, good taste in music (the definition of which is up to my discretion). The last thing I want is music recommendations from some jackoff who thinks Avril Lavigne is like totally the best thing to happen to punk rock, like ever. May you die choking on petulant donkey dong, in the back of your beloved Hot Topic.
4. Bands I've been listening to a lot lately:
Give up the Ghost
Some Girls
Dax Riggs
Agoraphobic Nosebleed
That is all.
2. I think I'll see *ACTUAL* Chinese democracy before I see a free can of Dr. Pepper.
3. I try to avoid large chain music stores as much as possible. Why, you ask? Because those people are either idiots, soulless, or soulless idiots. I don't expect the people selling the music to know everything about music, but some degree of knowledge is nice. And also, good taste in music (the definition of which is up to my discretion). The last thing I want is music recommendations from some jackoff who thinks Avril Lavigne is like totally the best thing to happen to punk rock, like ever. May you die choking on petulant donkey dong, in the back of your beloved Hot Topic.
4. Bands I've been listening to a lot lately:
Give up the Ghost
Some Girls
Dax Riggs
Agoraphobic Nosebleed
That is all.
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