Friday, April 26, 2002

THE WORST/BEST TOILETS EVER
(in no particular order)

• Andy Gump at This Ain't No Picnic - The outdoor music festival that attracted thousands from the LA area provided a sumptuous feast for the senses. Upon entering the port-o-john I was hit first by the stink and then by the sight of a toilet completely flooded over with shit and piss and topped off with a pair of the most shitacular panties I've ever seen. I actually considered not taking them. Now years later, their usefullness has ended for me. Any interested buyers, a search for either "shitacular" or "shitastic" on ebay should bring up the listing.
  
• Restroom at Dean and Deluca, Rockefeller Plaza - It follows that a classy place like this would have a classy bathroom, right? Nah ah. Blood in and around the toilet. Menstrual? That's what I told myself when I wiped it up and spread it on the currant scone waiting for me back at the table. I thought it tasted slightly citrusy, but that could have been the oil of Bergamot in my Earl Grey.
  
• Wendy's on Platt Ave. - I didn't actually have to use it. I was chaperoning my younger brother's friend Brian to the bathroom (Get you mind out of the gutter. I was just going to watch.) when we passed through the door and were confronted by a heavy-set, bearded man making a grumpy. He waved to us and asked, "How's it going?" The two of us were speechless. His eyes closed as he broke wind. He was looking at us again. "There was a belief that the world could achieve peace, that the world could achieve shared prosperity, that reason matters and that technology gives an opportunity for human betterment," he continued optimistically, describing the intellectual precepts that swept through Europe in the 18th century. "I believe in all of those things." He stood, wiped, flushed, and exchanged handshakes on his way out. "I've enjoyed our time together," he said and that was that. The enlightened fucker didn't even wash his hands.

Thursday, April 25, 2002

I'm starting a country band when I return to LA. I've written half a dozen songs and recruited a friend to play bass so we're nearly complete already. My songs cover your standard country topics. Losing your love. Being sad. Possessing a lamentably small cock. Here are some sample lyrics that I've written from a song I currently call "Song #2":

I just want to be alone, you know
These are the seeds I have sown
If there's one thing I have known it's that
Love's something I've outgrown, ow ooh woah

There is some truth in the words, but I hope that I'm not actually this depressed or cynical. I really do believe that I am capable of loving another. In fact, show me a woman who sucks cock so hard that I cum blood and I'll marry her in a New York minute. I don't even care what she looks like. Now that's true love. <!--1:02 AM-->

Wednesday, April 24, 2002

More about my bike. It's actually my brother's Diamond Back from when he was six years old. He never learned how to ride it. Yes, I ride a bike made for six-year-olds. You think that's funny? Wait until you see me riding it. I'm a gigantic monster on that thing. I bet if I was cruising around and my cock popped out of my pants it would look pretty adequate relative to the bike's proportions.

There's a park nearby my apartment that I often pass through on my jaunts around town. On a recent visit I pedaled up a path and parked myself as I watched a bunch of dogs frolicking in the grass. I was waiting for them to shit when behind me somebody yelled, "Hey, kid! Kid on the bike!" I turned and saw this junior-high-aged youth taken aback that an adult would be riding such a ridiculously sized vehicle.

"You're no kid!"
"Nope."
"Can I ride your bike?"
"Sure."

And as soon as I gave him permission, half a dozen more kids, elementary school students I'd imagine, were running over.

"Can I go, too?"
"Me next!"
"Second!"

What did I care. I had nowhere to be. The kids lined up and waited their turn to give my bike a go. Now this is when things got kinda awkward. I've spent plenty of time around kids and have recently been volunteering down at the library leading field trip tours, but in a park I had the feeling that things were a little different. The adults there don't know who I am. How would a mom react if she saw me standing next to her 10-year-old daughter making conversation? Probably not good. And if she were close enough to hear me asking the girl if she's "sprouting hair downstairs yet," I probably would have been arrested or severely beaten. So I played it cool and kept my distance. And when that last kid finished his ride, I walked my bike back to my apartment and sniffed the seat in the privacy of my own home. You think I was letting them ride out of the goodness of my heart? Then you, sir, are dumber than I am dirty.
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Tuesday, April 23, 2002

So I watched Reality Bites last night. I mentioned it yesterday's post briefly but didn't really get into it. The reality is that Reality Bites really bites big donkey dork. The one redeeming scene was the one where Winona Ryder is wearing that white dress with no bra. Nipple city. They really should have cut out every other scene of that movie and called it The Waifish Pea Smuggler. It would have made tons of money and been heralded as a modern classic by the film cognoscenti. Also, the characters are all ridiculous two-dimensional clichés of Gen-Xers with the exception of the gay guy that is so totally like my friend Ian. Right down to the love of cock. The writer must totally know him or something. So unless you know Ian or are totally into Winona Ryder's tits (check her out in Edward Scissorhands wearing a bra and sporting some bonerific cleavage) I say stay away from this stinking pile of steaming diarrhea. <!--12:35 AM-->

Monday, April 22, 2002

Last night I was told that my apartment building is haunted. Now how am I supposed to get any serious masturbating done if I think that some ghost might be checking me out and laughing at my diminutive cock? I might have to resort to jerking it in public places knowing what I know. Truth is I think I'm scared straight so it's a good thing I've only got one more month in this place. By the time I get to LA I'm gonna be ready to explode. Adam and Dave, you guys better start scotch-guarding the furniture cause I'm gonna cum all over the place. <!--12:13 PM-->

My apologies. I'm too tired/drunk to write anything particulary dirty tonight. I spent the evening watching a bad Ethan Hawk movie and partying with the unemployed/unemployable. I also sang "Celebration" to a table full of gay men and had my ear licked by one of them. Most action I've seen in years. I'll have a new post ready by noon PST hopefully. I'm thinking supergay thoughts right now that I hope will lead to supergay dreams that I'll be able to report about in the update. Before I go, one of the cooler things I saw tonight was a lesbian standing in a pile of her own vomit. It was awesome! I was as psyched as she was distressed. Man, drunk lesbians are totally rad. <!--3:01 AM-->