Cake Woman and I went to the MIA, where, unlike when I went by myself, we were not followed by a herd of security guards. Then we hit the Electric Fetus. I was unable to prevent myself from purchasing Fiona Apple, Laura Veirs, and Matson Jones. Then we went to the Bulldog. Cake Woman bought me Delerium Tremens and mini corn dogs. She had a birthday thing with her quasi fam at five, so I came home to work on my freelance web thing and ended up babysitting Noah and his three bowel movements for four hours. I wasn’t able to eat the leftover lentil soup that I heated up because it was the exact color of the things that Noah play-doh factorized into his diapers.
You have no messages.
Whoever recorded that with the emphasis on no is a sick person.
On a happy note, Noah and I sang at least three thousand verses of Old MacDonald. Highlights included all the old favorites as well as monkeys, snakes, and a pterodactyl. We are fucking awesome.
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Cake Woman came over so the Keathly family and I could celebrate her birthday. She brought Upright Citizen’s Brigade DVDs! I watched the ass pennies, poo stick, bucket of truth, and hot chicks room while Cake Woman fell asleep on my bed. Now, of course, I have to do several hours of algorithms and data structures homework while she makes my bed smell like girl and farts.
P.S.: Halloween party at my house on the 29th, drop me a line at firstname.lastname@example.org if you haven’t already gotten an invite. I gotta get on that shit, just like everything else in my life. Melody and her husband Jay should come but they live in Portland. They are awesome people. I don’t think that I mentioned that. I should have.
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My favorite blogs are fearless.
jesse: sorry I missed you yesterday
terry: no worries, seems like you’re going through some shit
terry: …if your blog is any measure
jesse: that’s par for the course
terry: this is the first time I said to myself: “Dude, dont you realize people might read this?”
Might read this? That’s the whole point! No, I’m not actually going through any shit — I’m just presenting a view of the dramatic aspects of my life. I could sum up the weekend as “I’m a college student who went on a bender,” and walk away from it happy, but since I’m writing for my own entertainment, I spun the evening into a wild bacchanalia where Dionysius himself pulled me aside and said “dude, seriously, I think you’ve had enough.”
I know that people will read this. In addition to the anonymous masses that roll through, there are a handful of friends and family members who come by every so often. Ex-girlfriends come by. Women whom I have almost dated come by. Women to whom I recently sent an email because I was hoping to get to know them better so that we could maybe hook up and see what happens ‘cause hey you never know where you’re gonna meet someone and why not a zombie crawl, I mean, how great is that story anyway come by.
Actually, I might have scared away that last class of women. I mean, come on, you’ve read my blog, it’s like a car crashing into a plane in mid-air. I’ve read it, it sounds like I have serious mental problems. It’s like I’m channeling dead crazy people.
I am disappointed with my last post, though. It was supposed to draw parallels between Cake Woman’s fears and my own, then blend in the apologies that I heard from everyone else, but I was far too tired to supply the required subtlety of prose. You might ask me why people were apologizing to me, and I might ask the same question. It seemed like there was consternation over the possibility that my feelings might have been hurt by events that transpired. I just kept getting apologies all day. They might have made more sense if I could remember the part of the night where I was crying as my roommates rolled me up the stairs and into bed, but that was probably just alcohol poisoning.
You might think to yourself right now “oh my god, how is he admitting this on the internet?” Well, I tell you what. I will tell this story to my mom the next time I see her. Tears will shoot out of her eyes. She might collapse in hysterics. Then, when she stops laughing she’ll probably ask me to help her move an obelisk from one side of her garden to another. If you don’t see how alcohol poisoning is funny, try reading that paragraph very seriously and then offhandedly drop in the last sentence.
I fear that this post is only incrementally better than the last. I’ll keep working on my writing. I have to write a paper for my art class anyway. Ugh.
P.S.: I’m pretty sold on Sprint for my wireless service, I think.
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After like a day of missed phone calls, Cake Woman and I finally actually talked to each other. The fun part of blacking out is when you recover memories and it stops being a black out. Unfortunately for me, I’m still missing huge swaths of dick in the mashed potatos style partying, and honestly, who wants to hang out with a guy who drinks to that kind of excess every few months. On a whim. With his boss?
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Fuck you, Loggins!
Hall and I will not stand idly by while you California vagina sailors stab the american airwaves in the balls with your shit music!
Episode #2 has Hall and Oates versus, uh, McDonald and Loggins.
There are no winners today, but I felt the power of really smooth music.
I can’t deal with how awesome these Yacht Rock videos are. I just can’t.
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It’s entirely too bad that Cake Woman has to work tomorrow, because I think that she would really enjoy what my boss is hammering me to attend.
I was thinking that I should post some excerpts of our conversation tonight, but what the hell, I like to read drunken rants a lot. So should you:
Session Start (jessepmullan:zach): Fri Oct 14 23:53:36 2005
zach: zombie pub crawl
zach: you down
zach: or what
jessepmullan: I’m thinking that my zombie costume will be simple
jessepmullan: step one: cup of fake blood
jessepmullan: step two: inability to swallow fake blood
jessepmullan: step three: profit
zach: so we’re zombying on the morrow right
zach: you’ve cleared your shedool?
jessepmullan: I ain’t got shit to do
zach: I mean it’s in your neighborhood for fuck’s sake
zach: so you better goddamn be there
zach: with the “Braaaaains” and the undeadening
zach: I’m very excited about the whole thign
zach: so really
zach: you’re going to zombie fest on the morrow
jessepmullan: jesus, I already said yes
zach: NO YOU DIDN’T
zach: don’t you fuck with me man
zach: I’ve got a fish
zach: and it’s frozen
zach: it could do some damage
jessepmullan: that could very well kill me
zach: sorry I’m drunk
zach: I lied about the fish
zach: that doesn’t give away my true feelings too obviously
zach: does it?
jessepmullan: you are so drunk
jessepmullan: I LOVE drunken blog posts
zach: I may have had a few
zach: or two
zach: I saw a preview of american The Office today
zach: with the boss having his minion come in early
zach: but only to deliver a sammich
zach: you two better watch out
jessepmullan: I so want to bring my camera tomorrow
zach: you HAVE to
zach: lkjsdmy presonsris posted
jessepmullan: what in the fuck did you just say?
zach: donty’ you tell me the fuck
jessepmullan: you are amazingly drunk
zach: not as drunkas zomb ie zach is gonna be tomrorow
zach: something abot being dripping blodo at zpsycho zusuzy’s with a tiki dirink in zombie rgelaia is funny to me
jessepmullan: I gotta charge my phone
zach: what doe syor phone have ot do with this.?
jessepmullan: I might have to call 911 to have you reanimated
zach: is your number sitll 911?
zach: ALRIGHTY THEN
zach: i’m a wagchint dawn of the dead
zach: the lst aitime I watched this was the 2004 elections
zach: what a depressing night that was
jessepmullan: that would suck
zach: but I loves me some zombie
jessepmullan: to have that association in your mind
zach: yeah well the zombiers make up for it
zach: a bit
jessepmullan: and when you get the dvd from me, you will love zombies a little too much
zach: party at your housse in norderast tomrrow gnight rght?
zach: after psycho zusys
zach: aftger the zombie party
jessepmullan: shit, that’s a pretty long walk
zach: don’t blakc aball me!!@
jessepmullan: the last time I was at psycho suzies a lady flashed me
zach: I like where this is going
zach: giggity gigityt
jessepmullan: all right
zach: as much as I love zom bies
zach: I’k reammlyt whtuite queecited about this zombie thing orowow
zach: that isn’t even english
jessepmullan: that isn’t even text
jessepmullan: you just typed in some binary
zach: what’s the 3 year old up tomorrow
zach: he should ocome out in zombie regalia
jessepmullan: if he wants to be eaten
jessepmullan: I bet he would love to go to the spooky store to buy spooky stuff
zach: wif a koopun?
zach: wut kind of rowbit areyou
zach: OH MY GOD
zach: OH NO
zach: AT MY DOOR
zach: CAN’T HOLD HTEM OFF
zach: EATING MY BRAINS
jessepmullan: by tomorrow you will be zombiefied
jessepmullan: or sooner
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I listen to a lot of Radio K again now, much like when I was 18 and prepping vegetables in the basement of the Speedy Market on Como. Yes, that was a long time ago, when Radio K was new and amazing. Anyway, I bought two watts on Monday during the festival of awesome and got no bonus Radio K gift pack or anything. Zach gets a day in his honor at some point, but all that I got was a slap in the face, and not even by a K staffer, just by some random dude fulfilling his karmic duty to beat the crap out of me. He hasn’t found me yet, but he will, and then I will get my amazing radio K prize pack.
Anyway, yesterday the rewards were amazing. The guests were two women from First Avenue who work in the booking office (or something like that). The reward for buying one watt was to get on the guest list for a private party in the Entry that one of them was putting on, and two watts would get you onto the list for a birthday party in the Entry in December. Eleven watts got you on the list for Mike Doughty, which would be fairly amazing, since I was one of those rabid Soul Coughing fans back in the day (but honestly, I still haven’t gotten around to listening to his solo stuff, possibly because I heard someone compare it to Dave Matthews Band, which, for the love of crap, I can’t seem to bring myself to stand).
Okay, so those things were amazing, but then they said that four watts would earn one double date with the two staffers and a male friend of your choice (or just you and the two of them? Who knows, who cares, I could fashion a convincing dummy to prop up in the chair next to me, and do a little ventriloquism to make it seem like he and I were divvying up the lady folk. He’s probably get the redhead, but he’s a jerk anyway). Just to hammer the point home, they gave the link to First Avenue’s myspace site (who knew that First Ave was a sixteen year old girl from AOL?) which had links to each of their accounts: Kate and Steph.
So, seeking to be sold on purchasing insane numbers of extra watts to get tickets plus a date (I mean, come ON, that’s $150 and I feel guilty when I spend $3.20 on pizza each day instead of packing two cups of beans and rice), I sent an email. Also, I like to harrass the DJs — it’s free for me and cheap for them.
Subject: If I were to buy fifteen watts
Would I get the tickets plus two dates?
What am I saying? I can’t afford to buy any more watts.
Or maybe I can’t afford NOT to buy watts.
definitely is our first answer. we would like to know what show you want tickets to though. let me know and then we will confirm and then you can call 626.rock - thanks jesse!
chris the dj
The devil on my shoulder is telling me that I should buy more watts, but the angel told me that I have purchased plenty of watts.
What was that myspace url?
the girls say “listen to the devil”
i tend to concur.
chris the dj
I did get to the first ave myspace page, and upon seeing cute women the devil was jumping up and down and waving his pitchfork around. However, the angel came back from the bathroom and put his foot down. So, despite my rampant singleness, I will not be purchasing female accompaniment.
Now I have to go to class, all sad from not giving in to my urge to buy irresponsible numbers of watts.
ok thank you though jesse!
About halfway through class I regretted not just signing up to be a recharger. I mean, that’s $10 a month that I will probably never miss - that is until they do it when my checking account is empty like the place where my soul should be. Then, bounced transaction fees, and… uh… crap. I should totally do the recharging thing the next time they have a useful reward — well, more useful than the slap that I will already be getting.
Cake Woman called me yesterday because she wanted to do the Thursday museum thing. Unfortunately, between class, work, and the midterm that I have tonight, I only have time for food, and not for wandering around heckling artwork. Since that fell through, she told me that I have to drive to Anoka on Friday night to see her apartment. Since she lives in Anoka, or, as I like to call it, the South End of the North Pole, there is nothing to do there but drink and watch cartoons. I’m not sure how that will work out. She might have to work on Saturday, so this will probably just end with me being evicted at midnight and having to make my way cross country Journey of Natty Gann-style.
So today I turn on the K to hear an unexpected and familiar voice — Sheela Namakkal! She was one of my favorite people in high school, and she was working at Wells Fargo when I was (I assume that she still is, but I don’t know). Flushed with excitement, I send of another email to the studio:
The guests just keep getting better and better!
I’m amazed. Hi, Sheela!
Sheela says buy watts
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You may or may not be aware that I’ve got a lure dangling in the water on a personals site or two. Yes, I had some success this spring (well, success in injecting my life with glorious complications), but towards the end of the summer I reeled in my line and took a nap in the dating boat. I had travel and stuff. Really. Anyway, despite being crunched for time during the week, my weekends are reasonably open and I need to find people who are neither male computer nerds nor giggly freshman girls to hang out with and do things like:
- see shows
- go to the fucking museums
- eat delicious food
- see movies and films
- ride around the city on a fucking bicycle built for two
- drink the world’s beers and wake up in a cellar somewhere
How is that so hard? You’d think that a smart, funny, charming, bitter, sarcastic bastard like me would be swimming in a pool full of ladies. Literally full. No water, just the ladies. Imagine me as Scrooge McDuck, and you’re on board the awesome train.
That reminds me of what I told Zach that I was doing on Halloween:
I’ll tell you what I’m not doing. I’m not going to wake up in a field the day after missing a kidney again — not three years in a row! Fool me once, shame on… shame on you, fool me — can’t get fooled again.
Uh, you only have two kidneys to start with.
Shit. I’d better get me on some dialysis.
Here’s something that I’m not putting in my ad, but maybe I should, because it would weed out people who wouldn’t think that I’m funny.
- The first thing(s) people usually notice about me:
- People tend to notice the blood on my hands and clothes. Sure, I try to play it off as a ketchup making accident, but eventually they figure out that it is murder most foul, and then I have to start the cycle of killing again with a new witness. It’s really getting kind of tiresome.
Note to self: get some sleep, dude, you are all over the place today.
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