Everything is wrong with me
Friday, December 10, 2004
 
bonus, holidays/birthdays, coldest-tasting?, Sandler, zits, band-aids, music
Well, I got my Christmas bonus today and it's not exactly what I was hoping for. I know I shouldn't complain, because a lot of people don't get Christmas (sorry to my non-Christian readers, I should say "year-end") bonuses, but I was counting on this in a Clark Griswold kinda way. Only instead of putting in a pool, I was planning on pinning down some of the massive debt that living in a city where vodka tonics are $7 a pop can accumulate for a manic-depressive alcoholic.

So it's going to be a sad Christmas as I start looking around my apartment for things to give my friends and family:

Brother: "Oh wow, five VHS porno tapes that you've had since 1996! Thanks!"

Dad: "Oh great! Two half burned candles and a pair of pants that doesn't fit you anymore and won't fit me either! Great gifts!"

Sister: "A pack of matches, delivery menus for New York City restaurants, and some pens that don't work? All for me? This is a best Christmas ever!"

Friend: "Nice - a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper that have jokes about Puerto Ricans on them and a pair of scissors that you stole from work! And all I got you was that $50 Barnes & Noble gift card. I feel like such a douche."

(Oh, and remember how I was talking about taking nine credits next semester? Well I now can't, because I don't have the money. Which is good, because I really didn't want to anyway. But which is bad, because I'm just going to spend the money that I don't have for the class anyway, probably on something very necessary, like a $400 set of poker chips or $250 worth of frosting)

Merry Fucking Christmas.

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Speaking of the holidays, I have eight (eight?) holiday or birthday parties to attend this weekend (well, two were last night). I don't know how this is possible, considering I have about four friends.

[And what's with all the December birthdays? I didn't know March was the month for procreating. Is this all the work of St. Patrick's Day? Another thing we can thank the Irish for, along with tiny genitals and alcoholic rages.]

So there's going to be a lot of bar-hopping this weekend, which means I'm probably going to spend over $100 this weekend on cabs alone. This is where I curse myself for being obese, because I can't run from these cabbies (Christ, sometimes I get out of breath drinking water).

And now I really want a hoagie. Fuck - such a vicious, vicious cycle.

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I know I should probably let this go, but I can't get over the Coors Light commercials where they brag about having the "coldest-tasting" beer.

Am I the only one bothered by this? How has there not been a public outcry against this ad campaign? "Cold-tasting" doesn't even fucking make sense. Cold is a feeling, not a taste. Would anyone ever say, "Man, this dorito tastes like warm" or "This is the hottest-tasting raisin I've ever had"? No, because it doesn't make sense.

America, please do not allow yourselves to be duped by the Coors company. "Cold" is a feeling, sensation, or temperature, not a taste. If you put Coors or Bud or Miller in a freezer, they're all going to freeze at the same temperature. Coors has not developed a beer that defies the freezing point, allowing you to drink it in liquid form at 15 degrees Fahrenheit, while Bud and Miller turn into ice at a pansy-boy 32 degrees.

"Cold-tasting" beer does not make sense. And the beer tastes like shit anyway. That is all. Thank you.

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Speaking of commercials, these commercials for the new Adam Sandler movie "Spanglish" are driving me crazy. This is mostly because I refuse to take Adam Sandler seriously, and he delivers this cheeseball line in the commercial, saying something to the effect that, "Worrying about your kids is sanity, and that kind of sanity can drive you nuts!"

Adam, remember this?
You see that shampoo bottle now stick it up my ass
Push it in and out at a medium pace
Talk about your old boyfriend's dick and how big it was
Now shave off my pubes and punch me in the face
Yeah, so do I. And once you write something as raunchy (and extremely hilarious) as "At A Medium Pace", it's gonna be really tough for me to take your acting seriously.

[Whoa - am I seeing into my own future? After countless jokes about semen, pooping, and more semen, will the Academy take me seriously in my Oscar bid in 2009, after starring as the title character in "Fat Boy Eddie", a heartwarming film about a fat retarded boy who becomes a boxing legend? We shall see...]

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I'm getting a pimple. Right now, it's nothing more than a slight hue of red that's sensitive to touch on my nose, but I feel like this is going to be a good one. Of course, it will remain a red hue until exactly 5:30pm, when it will transform into another face trying to grow out of my current face, just in time for happy hour/weekend festivities.

I've always had pretty good skin. I'm not thankful for this, because really, it was the least god could do for me. After giving me man-boobs, extreme body hair, a tiny penis, poor posture, and a high speaking voice, it was almost like St. Peter finally pulled him off me (like the guys did to Michael Bolton vs. the printer in "Office Space") and was like, "Dude - take it easy! Enough already with the physical flaws! At least give him relatively clear skin!"

But about twice a year I will get a monster zit right smack on my nose. When I say it's like another face growing out of my face, I'm not kidding. Once, in October of 1995, I could make out an arm growing out of the mass. In June of 1997, while I was falling asleep, I swore it said "hey fuckface" to me.

But anyway, it's coming. And this is gonna be a big one, just in time for the weekend. Fucking sweet.

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Typical guy moment for me that my female friends are enjoying making fun of me about (ok, so I don't have female friends, but that my really effeminate guy friends are enjoying making fun of me about):

Forever (and this may be a little gross) my second toe and my third toe have been rubbing up against each other in my shoe, basically making those toes are red and blistered and the skin irritated. This is pretty uncomfortable, but I didn't think anything of it, and have been dealing with it for the past six months or so.

One of my female friends (ok, I have some) recently saw me walking with a slight limp, and asked me why I was doing so, and I explained the situation. She said, disdainfully almost, "Why don't you just but some band-aids on your toes?"

Heeding her advice I did just that and - wouldn't you know it - in two days I was completely healed. Wow! It never occurred to me once in six months to solve this very irritating problem by using a band-aid. I guess you learn something new every day.

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Six Songs:

- "Lately" Jodeci
The live version of this Stevie Wonder cover from MTV's "Uptown Unplugged" makes me cry. I never thought that two black men would touch me so deeply, but I was wrong.

- "When I Goosestep" The Shins
What a happy-sounding lil' song, lasting just two and a half minutes. I kinda like this band. Does that make me cooler?

- "Memories Of You" Ryan Adams
Another tear-jerker. Listen to at your own risk, and do so sober. If you haven't had sex in over a year or are getting over a break-up, do NOT listen to this song. Don't say I didn't warn you.

- "All These Things That I've Done" The Killers
An inspirational song. I too have soul, yet I am not a soldier.

- "Rocket Queen" Guns n' Roses
How is it that the first half of this song sucks but then second half is awesome? Couldn't they have just made two songs so I don't always have to fast forward? Assholes.

- "Streets Is Watching" Jay-Z
If someone said, "Hey Mulgrew, what would be your theme song?", I'd pick this.
Public apologies to the families of those caught up in my street
But that's the life for us lost souls brought up in the streets
The life and times of a demonic mind, excited with crime
And the lavish luxuries that just excited my mind
I figured, 'Sh*t why risk myself I just write it in rhymes
And let you feel me, and if you don't like it then fine'
I mean, did I write this? It's like the exact story of my life. I think I said this verbatim my mom the other day on the phone when she was giving me shit about my dangerous lifestyle and this blog, without realizing that Jay-Z also wrote it. So, so weird.



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