Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, January 20, 2005
mo' blind musicians, CC, hangovers, email, music
Last night after work I was on the subway, going over to my friend Holly's house for a visit. It was almost 8pm, so the work rush hour had passed and the train was fairly empty. I slumped down in my seat, a hulking mass of shit and vice, and listened to my iPod. And then something amazing happened: a blind accordion player entered the train.

This is not remarkable in and of itself, but what's remarkable is that it was a different blind accordion player than the one I had the run-in with a few weeks back.

I know NYC is a big city and all, but what are the odds that there'd be two blind accordion players vying for the change of rush hour commuters? Seriously, how many blind people play the accordion? Is that the easiest instrument for the blind to pick up? Or was there some bizarre accident at an accordion players' convention that left everyone blind, forcing them to roam the subways of major cities for change? What the fuck?

This crossed my mind only for a second before I thought about what would happen if the blind accordion player I saw a few weeks back came on the train and saw (sorry, heard) this new blind accordion guy on his turf. Images of two old blind guys with accordions strapped to their chests whacking each other with their canes and blindly (literally) throwing punches at each other quickly filled my head, and before long I was in hysterics. This blind guy was standing in the middle of the aisle, playing his accordion looking for some change so that he can eat, eliciting pity from every other commuter on the train, while I sat in my chair, my red, tear-streaked face buried in my hands, shaking with laughter as I envisioned the two blind guys clumsily fighting each other, knocking each other down, their accordions making all sorts of weird sounds as they attacked each other, fighting to the death.

Does it make me terrible person that this was the highlight of my week? Probably. But more importantly, do I care? No. Not really.


Country Crock has introduced a line of side dishes (mashed potatoes, chicken rice, and mac and cheese) that come in their trademark containers and are microwaveable.

One word about these: STAY THE FUCK AWAY (well, that's four words). I only had the mac and cheese, but good lord it is fucking good. My plan was to eat a third of the 23 oz (that's 1 pound, 7 ounces) container as a side for some sausages that I had grilled up. Unfortunately, that plan did not come to fruition and I wound up eating the whole fucking container in one sitting - a pound a half of mac and cheese. I think by the end of it I had throw my utensils across the room and was sticking my face in the container, making noises as I scarfed it down like I was simultaneously having sex and getting beat up. When I was finished, I put some mozzarella cheese in the empty container, heated it so the cheese melted ever so slightly, and ate that too. Good lord.

Man it was fucking good. Don't say I didn't warn you.


I've been noticing that my hangovers have been especially vicious over the past few months, and this is not acceptable. I don't know if it's aging or what, but I'd kinda like to lessen the effects of having 30 Bud Lights so that I don't need a roommate to help me use the bathroom the next day.

To this end, I've been training. Before, I usually didn't drink during the week. If I didn't go out on Thursday night or any other weekday night (which I've been trying to cut down on because I'm so fucking broke), I would maybe have one beer at home if the mood struck me, but that's it. Come the weekend, I'd have, oh, about 100 alcoholic drinks (beer, mixed drinks, shots, gasoline, etc)

But now, I have a regiment: to lessen the effects of my weekend hangovers and prepare my body for the binge drinking, I've been having two beers per night, every night. This is the first week I've done this in earnest, and I think it'll work this weekend. Of course, the problem is that after having two drinks, it's very, very hard to not have another. But that's why I think two is good...for me personally, three is the threshold. If I have two beers, I can stop and be ok. If I have three, there's an 80% chance I'm going to have a fourth. If I have a fourth, there's a 90% chance I'm going to have a fifth. And if I have a fifth, there's a 99% chance that someone is going to jail and someone's life, and genitals, will never be the same.

So wish me luck this weekend. I'll be sure to report back.


I have completely lost control of my email inbox. I love your emails, but god DAMN I'm fucking popular. Unfortunately, I can no longer guarantee a response to every email I get. I hope you understand and I hope this doesn't make it weird between us. I encourage you to keep sending me emails and I'll do my best to respond, but if I don't, it doesn't mean I don't love you - it just means that I don't like you as much as those who email me naked pictures. It's helpful if you appropriately subject your emails (i.e. "music suggestions", "need some advice", "come to my apt and touch me in the basement (wink wink)", etc) and send them to jason@jasonmulgrew.com rather than through the "contact me" page. And for those of you who are going to write an email to me with the subject line, "Pictures of my boobs" and instead not have pictures of your boobs but ask me to put a link to your blog on mine, well, if I ever find you, I will fucking kill you. Simple as that.

I'm sorry, but I can't spend two hours every night writing emails. I have other more important things to do, most notably comb over my genitals for any abnormalities, then subsequently arouse myself, then slowly bring myself to climax, then, well, just kinda hang out and feel ashamed.


Six Songs:

- "Alex Chilton" The Replacements
I fucking love this song. Cowbell, an acoustic break-down, clapping, a wicked solo - it's got everything. Fucking A. That's really all I can say.

(And yes, I know that rhymes)

- "Skating Away" Jethro Tull
Three things that come to mind about this song: 1) it's very dainty; 2) it's very British (not related to being dainty); 3) there is some crazy acoustic guitar playing. Also, Ian Anderson is tied with Lindsay Buckingham for the "Performer Who Makes Me Most Uncomfortable When I See Them Performing Because They Go All Crazy And Act Real Weird And Shit" title.

- "Happy" Bruce Springsteen
When my old college roommate Mike (who I also went to high school with) got married, he and his wife used this song as their wedding song. And with all due respect to every other wedding I've been to, this song blows all other wedding songs out of the water. Very original, very appropriate, and very good. Kudos to Mike and Lee on this one - good job.

- "Say You Miss Me" Wilco
Wait - you're telling me that Wilco existed before Yankee Hotel Foxtrot? What?

This is a nice little ditty that makes me sad. And we all know how much I love making myself sad, and how much help I need doing it. Because when it's 4:30 in the morning on a Saturday night and I'm lying in bed with a sausage roll and the spins, full of booze and disappointment, trying in vain to beat off to Maxim, I simply can't get sad. Not at all.

- "Sad And Lonely" The Secret Machines
Whenever I hear this song, I see a red-headed tattooed stripper with incredible fake boobs working the stage and pole as though God had made her for one purpose and one purpose only: to slide her stunning body around the platform like the sexiest fucking snake in the world and drive lonely and/or obese men wild.

Oh wait - I have seen that, in real life. Unfortunately, the lap dance she gave me was surprisingly sub par, but I have to take some of the blame here, because I had such an erection and was so overwhelmed and boneriffic that I was cross-eyed the whole time and I think I had a mild seizure half-way through, so I think that made her a little uncomfortable.

Oh, and it's not a bad song either. I hadn't heard it since I was at the strip club that night until it was recommended recently by reader Erik Mazmanian. So thanks Erik, for bringing back a wonderful memory.

- "Falling" Ben Kweller
This song sounds like a pretty, happy love song, but I'm not really sure it is. But whenever I hear it, I see a video montage in my head of me and Elisha Cuthbert being in love. A clip of us laying in a field during spring, eating grapes and laughing - us at a baseball game cheering after a home run - us on a rowboat splashing water on each other - me punching some guy in a wheelchair as she screams in horror - us at a movie as I watch her face when she laughs - she and I slow dancing in a park at night among trees with lights on them - me naked and fucked up on coke, punching myself in the throat over and over again because she won't have sex with me while she frantically dials 911 - us in a stainless-steel kitchen cooking dinner and starting a playful food fight - the two of us in a church at a friend's wedding and as the couple exchanges vows she touches my hand and gives me a doe-eyed look - us arguing and me pulling my pants down in the middle of the room and shitting on the floor and then standing up and stomping on the shit, screaming, "This is how you make me feel! This is how you fucking make me feel!" - etc.

I don't know if this is what Ben Kweller intended when he wrote this song, but that's the beauty of music I guess.

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