Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The Informer

I’ve got ‘That 70s Show’ hair. I don’t why it has happened to me and not someone who desires it more sensuously. The worst thing about it is it looks ironic and not even I’m that stupid. However I think I’ll suffer it until after the rock concert on Wednesday, perhaps Ariel Pink will mistake me for Hall & Oates’ soundman and we will share an unexpected moment of personal enrichment. That would be dope. I actually can’t wait for that (grins goofily).

The weekend was pretty dull and uninspired all things considered. I didn’t write a word, so I was pretty grouchy. De Campo and I went to the casino Saturday morning and saw the hilarious new Will Ferrell movie. A thin squirt of one percent milk comes out of my nose just thinking about it. The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. See it now or wait for it to come out on video or don’t see it at all, I don’t care.

Later that day we sauntered up to the schoolyard to shoot some hoops, something I haven’t done for a couple years, odd considering this was all I used to do as I kid when I wasn’t beat-boxing. It’s worth noting that I often did both at the same time, which was pretty funky. De Campo made shots from all over the court. She’s a national icon. She might like to know however that we were playing with a deflated basketball and once we are able to pump it up she may encounter difficulty getting some of those shots to fall. I tried to intimidate her by screaming and throwing my elongated torso into her grill. I’ve never seen someone so unruffled on the court. She reminds me of Larry Bird.

De Campo and I addictively watched Six Feet Under like we were taking crack. It makes us sick and it’s destroying our lives, but we persist and the hole just gets deeper and deeper. I flinch one minute, laugh the next and then suddenly I’m wetting my pants, which as it turns out has nothing to do with the show (I was born with the bladder of a nutria). I yelped several times at the Season 4 finale. It’s a real actor’s showcase, the characters are so real it hurts. Also it’s not a melodrama. It could be if the nightmare sequences were real; albeit one with a high-calibre slug of surrealism, but it’s not I’ve had enough of this I’m leaving this paragraph (I don’t know what I am talking about it anyways). It took two days to recover from the five episodes we watched. Today I feel great.

Not much else was got up to on the weekend. De Campo’s dieting. I made some mix-tapes for a friend I used to get in trouble with back in college. I made CD covers from an old Glamour Magazine De Campo used to understand the profundity of a coordinated outfit. She asked what Lance was like and I said one of Ricky Bobby’s pit crew. Lance lives in Idaho selling real estate.

1 comment:

David said...

best post ever