Using Up Your Lucky Days Two At A Time

Continuing my streak of improbable luck, our neighbor Yolanda dropped off a free pass to an advance screening of the 40 Year Old Virgin. I was delayed, but showed up right at 7:30 in the butthole of the Twin Cities to find rock star parking waiting for me. I got a seat right in the front row. Maybe that wasn’t a great seat, but it was the last one, and it prevented me from getting any 93x feces thrown at me, since they were aiming for the middle of the crowd. The movie was hilarious and out of control. I almost worried that it was misogynistic and homophobic, but sometimes funny is funny, and the nice guy (who didn’t seem to be either) won in the end.

Also it was a musical.

The joke that any of you might make is that this movie is about me. Ha ha ha!

Don’t worry, 40 is the new 20.

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New York City

My flight leaves at 7am on Friday!

Here are pictures that I took last time:
The New York Public Library Lion

Wall Street Bull

We walked for miles to get to Koronet for this giant pizza.  Then I triple exposed this photo.  Argh.

Thanks Ken
It’s lonely in the city

The Williamsburg, Brooklyn Restaurant Guide
Despite the rampant hipsterism in Williamsburg, it would be nice to get off of the island of Manhattan.

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Lisa Actually Remembers Saturday Night

Mama Lisa: We Partied Like it was 1999 - Literally.

I don’t remember the end part where there were boobies. Well, I kind of do, but that’s where it gets hazy. Very hazy. And dark. And everything tasted like rum.

My notes:

Get your skinny bitch ass down here, Paul
Spend the day in the bass bin
If the options are white or red, choose white because it doesn’t stain
Coming soon: my long distance relationship with booze
Backlit strippers — I mean burlesque dancers in the magic hour
Fucking Minnesota! JUST GO!
Everyone has to go to the bathroom, I just have to go in a timely manner

Hey, here we are!

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You’re Nearly Dead

I’ve been leaving a drunken, hungover, bitter, depressed mess all over my website. I must rectify the situation with an erudite post that enlightens and edifies my audience. Instead I will post pictures.

Cake Woman made me a cake. Finally, someone who gets me.

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Happy Birthday, Fuckface

Happy Birthday to John Ross, blackbird23005, JustinP & arkaitz!!!

The best part of waking up is a hangover in your cup!

I love you, Wilford Brimley, but this calls for motherfucking pancakes!

When did I have corn?

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Paul offered to redesign this site.

Paul: ooo! you should post that i’m going to redesign it and you want reader input!
Paul: even if it’s just me who gives input
Paul: ha ha
Paul: liquid or non-liquid?
Paul: fixed-width?

Make some comments.

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I’m 30!

Time to jump off a bridge! I’m not nearly drunk enough, no matter how much I pretend to be sober.

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I’m Gonna Flip Out Like A Ninja

I’m Gonna Flip Out Like A Ninja and you should flip out, too.

I only invited two people to come hang out today, and both declined. Nonetheless, Pizza Luce block party, followed by random meandering drunkeness. Rumor has it that Paul will not be drinking. For shame!

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What should I do tonight?

I might see Kung Fu Hamlet at 5:30 because the scene that I saw during the Scrimshaw show was hilarious. After that, uh, I got nuthin’. Well, I saw an open invitation that a friend of mine put out, but it is probably closed to me. If you have any ideas, let me know. I deliver fun and beer in mass quantities, or just fun. Or just beer. Take your pick.

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Yesterday when I called Cake Woman she said that I should call her after I got off of work and got myself all pretty. This process involved me changing into the brown t-shirt that shows off my man boobs and massive pipes. I didn’t even change my jeans with the red DaVanni’s pizza juices on them. We had a potentially full evening ahead of us, with as many as three fringe shows and a coworker’s going away happy hour on my mental schedule. I called a little later than I had expected, and Cake Woman said that she would be ready in twenty minutes.

For some reason I believed her.

I drove slowly over to her place, then came up to find her in a cute dress with a towel on her head. A dress?

“Don’t worry, I just have to do my hair.”

And her makeup? When did Cake Woman become an actual girl-type person? Instead of punk rock chick chic, she looked, well, there was still the septum piercing, loads of hot tattoos, red Cons, and non-matching socks, but she looked more dressed for picking up dudes (or chicks, as far as Cake Woman goes, it could really be either) than for rocking out. For the record, we rocked out anyway.

Approximately sixty hours later we went downtown, having missed our window for dropping in on Emily’s happy hour. We ate at Brits because it was reasonably close to the venue, but our waiter actually went to England to pick up some scotch eggs and made us late. Since we missed the first two possible fringe shows, we totally could have made it to the happy hour, and then everyone could have met the infamous Cake Woman. Good times.

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