Buying An Old Paint Shop

Last night I went grocery shopping at midnight. It was Friday. That meant that the only other people there besides my friend and I were the horrible, middle-aged creatures that were refilling on bottom shelf tequila and Weight Watcher 100 Calorie Packs of cookies. They were beasts; women with blotchy tanned legs sticking out of their terrycloth anal floss, screaming at the tops of their lungs about how Deborah was so drunk that she fell on a pile of bananas and is now bleeding. I hope Deborah is driving you all to the next bar, you pigs. They had all the ingredients for a night of bloody diarrhea, I can tell you that. I,ll have to check the obituaries for them this week.

So Percussion And Matmos - Treasure State
I spotted two amazing gems checking out pizza in the frozen food isle, specifically, the pizza section. He was a hulking, sweaty lower echelon covered in faded tattoos of stars and naked women and weird dermal piercings on his face that looked like a beetle was laying eggs on him covered in a mix of skintight Ed Hardy, Nor Cal and Tapout clothing. She was a 39 year old rape victim with platform sandals, peroxide extensions falling off of her head, and a super cute ankle tattoo of tweety bird or Taz or something. She also had wobbly, tanned skin and a mutant mouth slathered in fuchsia gloss and infected piercings.

They were meant for each other. I wish I had a picture of them so bad. Just imagine any porn star after a car wreck accompanied by the guy that takes most of her money and hits her regularly. But that doesn,t do them justice. They were gods. They were so much better than gods. I just wanted to follow them around and hear the cultured conversation they were sure to have. Discussions about what kind of vodka gets you drunk faster, how glad they were they gave up all three kids to adoption so they could ,,stay young,,, how much more money they have to save to have enough for her second breast enhancement, and how the new kid at the board shop keeps making him look bad because he is friendlier and sells more and is 18 years younger.

Paper

Tattoos are dumb and Kat Von D is a stupid, ugly bitch. That being said, all I ever do anymore is give people tattoos. It,s my calling in life. I,m glad I found it because it is the only thing that has helped pull me out of my suicidal depression. For a minute there, I was really close to chasing Chris Beeman and smoking a bowl with Jesus and Terri Schiavo. I just had to look up if she is dead or not. Just keeping up on current events.

What I mean by all of this is that last night I gave my poor, patient friend a tattoo with a dirty needle that she found for several hundred hours. It was fun. It was mostly just hanging out and watching movies and eating chocolate and braiding each other,s hair. I,m just full of lies today. It wasn,t that fun because I was stabbing her over and over in the same spot and I can,t draw so it looks like somebody like me, with no experience or talent, tattooed somebody. Permanent Body Bummer.

Matmos - The Civil War
I have always hated that everybody that tattoos people has tattoos. There is a reoccurring conversation in my life about this. I have asked a lot of idiots with tattoos if they would ever be willing to get tattooed by somebody that has never had one. Everybody immediately says no. Sometimes, if people aren,t complete wastes, I can add variables to the equation such as - What if he/she has a large, impressive body of work? Or, What if a friend of yours can testify to his/her expertise? A few people might realize that they are idiots for saying no so quickly and succumb to my overwhelming, perfect genius. Most people are total wastes however, and obstinately refuse to accept the idea that a tattoo ,,artist,, with no tattoos can be good at anything.

The most common reasoning for their staunch idiocy is something like, ,,They can,t be good at it if they haven,t experienced it themselves.,, That,s like saying a brain surgeon wouldn,t be good at his job unless he has undergone brain surgery. Or that a cosmetic surgeon wouldn,t be capable unless he had giant, spherical boobs with a large, stretched-out flat area in between them. Luckily, most surgeons must have numerous procedures performed on them before they get their licenses. It,s the rules. The rules of surgery. And they must never be broken.

New Hat

Last night I went to a show at some fancy place in San Francisco. I knew it was going to be fancy before I even got there because it was alright for me to get there late. That usually means it,s a real cool spot to be. I showed up almost two hours after the doors opened and I was still one of the first people there. I guess I,m not so great after all. Oh well.

It was the first time I had ever been to see a show like this so I didn,t really know what to expect except two French dudes yelling and drinking champagne. The people there were cartoon characters. All of the people you would expect to see in a Where,s Waldo that takes place in a rave or rich bitch bar were drawn into real life.

Tommy McCook And The Supersonics - Down On Bond Street
There was the skinny white guy with really long earthworm dreadlocks that smelled like a gutter right after rain. He made me feel so uncomfortable I moved my wallet to my front pocket. There were the ubiquitous girls soured up with perfume, grinding their dumpers on whatever would push back. There was the girl sitting on the cum couch with knee-high, white vinyl boots, talking to her friend about how boring the blow was she just bumped in the bathroom. And the middle aged bodybuilder who came out to blow off steam and knock a bunch of drinks all over everything electronic because he was just ,,too into it,, to pay attention to anything but the guy,s ass he was fingering.

I hated them all. Some disease of a woman blasted baby powder everywhere so I had to breathe that in for a while. Now my lungs are too smooth to collect oxygen. There was also a dance battle which my friend referred to as a rap battle. The highlight of the evening was either finding fifteen fliers mashed onto the car,s windshield, mirrors, and windows when we left or, making up our own dance moves that mimicked the normal stuff we do everyday. A few of the hottest moves that we previewed last night included - driving a car, cutting bread, cutting a tomato, listening to the radio, and a squid swimming. I think I was the only person there with earplugs in.

Kenny Is Pissed

So my plan right now is to write about this website I heard some guy talking about. But, I don,t want to look at it right now because it,s This guy,s site and he,s standing right behind me. So, before I look at it I,ll give the description that I heard him give.

What brought up this hopefully amazing site is that somebody said he looked like Issac Hayes because he is black with a pubic hair beard with dark sunglasses on inside. Then Issac said that he is related to somebody, I forget who, some black singer. Joe Strummer maybe? Then he said that singing is in his family and that he had a website that has ,,ten books on religion and ten books on lovely romance.,, Apparently, the romance ones are based on an ,,exquisite, exquisite Brazilian woman,, who he said he plans on capturing and putting on and island so he can chase her around for fifty years.

The Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
I just remembered that he said he is related to Peter Tosh. That,s his cousin on his mom,s side. Why would you brag about that?

I just looked at the site. It is so much better than I imagined. I won,t explain anything because there is no way I could do it any justice. All I can do is encourage you to go this poor, self-important man,s exquisite, exquisite website any try to endure as much as you can. If you have to choose one thing, I would suggest taking a listen to any super high quality audio samples in the ,,Music,, section. But, if you have time and will power, read the scripts in the Film/TV section. Ugh. It,s just so good. It really is the Celestial Truth.

I almost forgot. This morning a woman asked me if I knew about anybody that had ,,those bacon tattoos,, or if I knew where any designer bacon shops were. She was looking for boutique, hand-cured, Spanish-salted bacon from the gut of a sow that was fed only organic truffles for its whole life or something. I think she,s a Freemason.

Jumping On The Bed

I love Independence day so much. I love thinking about how George Washington defeated the Indians and won back The Republic of Rough And Ready after it seceded from The Union, and the World Trade Center and everything. It,s a very important day for me. It makes me proud to live where I do and honor the people that have fallen in the line of duty.

No, I care about that stuff as much as I care about sports. ,,Oh, the flag and pride and the thirty yard line and Joe Montana and beer and lynch Obama.,, Shut up. I don,t think anybody really cares about beating the British anymore. The only thing the fourth of July is good for is throwing fireworks at your friends. That,s all I ever do. California is sort of dumb because you can,t really have cool stuff like you can get in other states. You can only have the kind of fireworks that spin on the ground or gently blow sparks into the air. It,s beautiful in that I,m-sterile-so-I-can,t-have-kids-or-emotions kind of way, you know.

Jeff The Brotherhood - Heavy Days
These weak safety fireworks have necessitated creative adjustments to many of the standard designs by the youth throughout the state. Some of these improvements in design include taking the bases off of Piccolo Petes and lying them on their sides and shooting them at seven year olds in the Home Depot parking lot that you are in, or taking the green plastic balls and throwing them at people,s feet, or my newest discovery, taking ground blooms and holding them until the fuse is almost gone and throwing them as high as you can so they rocket back to the earth with violent force, sending a shower of burning embers in all directions.

All of these things usually end up with an innocent five year old bystander in the hospital with second degree burns on her neck and legs. But isn,t that what the fourth of July is all about? Hurting those around you that are weaker and can,t defend themselves? I have always thought so.

Drone Day

My friend just moved out of our apartment the other day. By moved out I mean that he slept on the couch for a few months and he just picked up his small bag of clothes and left for tour. He,s a rocker. He,s even got long hair now. It,s a bummer that he,s gone though. My apartment has had too many people in it almost constantly since I moved in. Well, for the first month or so I was just living there by myself, going nuts because I didn,t know anybody, had no television and was too scared to go explore anything. Dark, dark days.

Loretta Lynn - Sings
My actual roommate finally moved in and rescued me from suicide and it,s been at capacity ever since. There has been a surprisingly short amount of time in the past three years when there were only two of us sharing this tiny, filthy two bedroom .5 bath home. I think we have the biggest place out of anybody that I know around here and it is way too small for even two people. Our couch is in our kitchen and our kitchen barely exists. It,s just a slim strip of linoleum with a filthy stove, broken oven and sink full of disgusting dishes. I blame the guy that just moved out though.

Our rule is: if you want to stay at our apartment for any extended amount of time you can,t pay us rent. All of our tenants have followed this rule with no qualms other than the rocker. He never gave us any money but he would get domestic things for the place like paper towels or pizzas. And he always did the dishes. He even did a farewell vacuuming of most of the place. And gave me a hug. So now that he,s gone it,s back to being a horrible slaughterhouse. Dirt everywhere, rapes occurring nightly, my bedroom has regressed into the cave of gloom and sorrows that it used to be, the toilet seat is covered in pubic hair, the trash is full of fresh fruit, flies land in my mouth when I,m trying to sleep, and most importantly, there is no longer the sound of his joyful voice flecked with glee and imagination to fill the halls with good cheer.