Tuesday, January 18, 2005
the weekend, day-by-day
There's really nothing better than a long weekend, especially when the day off is Monday. Sure, many will argue that having Friday off is superior to having off on Monday, but I disagree. When you think about it, Friday is the best day of the work week, the day when I say to myself all day long, "C'mon - almost there, you fat bastard. Just a couple more hours until you're sitting on the couch enjoying a tall cool Budweiser, watching VH1 Classic, and thinking about that Indian girl who lives down the hall who you just wanna get all messed up on gin and Nyquil and touch all over." Whereas Monday is spent thinking, "Fuck - four more days of this. I wish I had money so I didn't have to work. Maybe I should give a second thought to robbery or arson-for-hire, because something has to give." So give me Monday off any day of the week (get it? "any day of the week"? god I am fucking awesome).
A lot of shit happened this weekend, and though I don't like breaking weekend posts down by days, fuck it - I'm feeling pretty lazy right now.
Friday: Glenn Tilbrook
After work on Friday, I went over to Hoboken, NJ to a lil' place called Maxwell's to see Glenn Tilbrook play.
1) Hoboken: I don't like it. It's basically a college town, filled with people in their mid- to late-20's all trying to get drunk and have sex. Now on paper, this sounds great, but in reality, it means bars packed with a bunch of gelled up douchebags who all work in banking in NYC hitting on girls who love their sororities and US Weekly.
And yes, maybe I'm jealous because these girls don't like me, but really, NO girls like me, so I'm not holding their disinterest in me against them. I will, however, hold my penis against them as I wait by the bar to order another drink, and hope they don't notice. If they do notice, well, I am deceptively speedy when faced with the prospect of a sexual assault charge.
2) Glenn Tilbrook: Glenn Tilbrook was the lead singer of the band Squeeze ("Tempted", "Pulling Mussels From The Shell", etc), which is one of my favorite bands of all-time (seriously). What's more, Glenn's had a quiet solo career, but he's put out some pretty marvelous stuff. What's even more, Glenn is a consummate performer, performing alone with an acoustic guitar, drinking the whole time, and talking to the crowd and taking their requests.
[As a matter of fact, I invite all over you to click through to his website several times and so that he might notice a spike in his traffic coming from my site, in the hope that he might contact me and ask him to follow him around telling dick jokes. Thank you for your help in this.]
3) Maxwell's: a hip bar-restaurant with a tiny backroom that holds maybe 150 people. This bar regularly puts on some good acts, and is known as the place where indie gods Yo La Tengo got their start. A refuge for Hoboken's hipster crowd, which is small, but present.
Verdict: very good night. Some friends and I met there and had dinner, which was lovely, but if what I had was "Hoboken's best quesadilla" then I no longer dislike the people who live in Hoboken, I pity them. Glenn sounded awesome and was entertaining as usual, drinking and going back and forth with the crowd, at one point leaving the stage to walk around among the crowd playing and singing. Good stuff.
The audience was mostly middle-aged people or people in their 30's, but there were a fair amount of young people like myself. Out of the young people present, my friends and I were the only ones who didn't rock the "Rockstar" look - vintage clothes, messed up hair that actually isn't messed up at all, sunglasses, etc.
I hate these people. I don't know why, but I have a lot of hate to give, and these people seem to be as good as any to be recipients of my hate. They're one of the things I hated about living in the Lower East Side - all these young people with the rockstar look, walking around with guitars on their back, with an air of superiority because they get it, while others do not.
Well, I certainly do NOT get it. I don't know how these people can allow themselves to be so affected: their appearance is so contrived, it's almost laughable. I thought that the number one way to be cool was not to try too hard, but these people...ugh. I'm not saying that you have to go to an 80 year-old Italian barber and start shopping at J. Crew, but when you have the same hair Rod Stewart did in 1977 and your t-shirt looks homemade but costs $80, it's time to take a step back and get some perspective.
[And yeah, maybe I'm jealous because women eat these guys up, but fuck you. There's something very sexy about being an internet quasi-celebrity. Once I figure it out, I'll be sure to let you all know.]
Speaking of not getting it...this was probably the longest two hours of my life. DEAR. GOD. I can't stress how bad I thought this movie was. I really, really need a minute here.
I admit, I expected a lot from this movie. Everyone who's seen it loves it, and a lot of friends told me that it was right up my alley. I think I should go back and punch these friends in the face for thinking that two hours of slow-moving plot, characters who I never grew to like but never grew to dislike so instead just hoped the damn movie got over as quickly as possible, and a number of very uncomfortable scenes would be right up my alley.
There were funny parts, but they were few and far between and stemmed from Thomas Haden Church acting like a 35 year-old Steve Stiffler. Aside from that, I just don't get it. Yeah, yeah, yeah...he's miserable and all that but he's also got something more than that, but I really didn't give a shit. I just wanted to go the fuck home. Christ.
I'm sorry that I can't give a better review of this movie, but I'm fuming right now. I just want to punch something, but there's nothing around that I can punch except co-workers, and most of them can beat me up. Maybe I should just move on before my head explodes, revealing a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese in lieu of a brain. I mean, fuck.
I went 4-for-4 on my predictions this week, but most importantly, my team won. Yes, the Philadelphia Eagles are advancing to their fourth straight NFC Championship game this Sunday against the Atlanta Falcons. I will leave my analysis and a prediction for later, but boy did this make my weekend much better. While I would've liked a more convincing victory and I thought there were a few times that the Birds could have put the game away but did not do so, I was happy with their performance nonetheless.
But this was nothing, and totally expected. The Eagles have lost the NFC Championship game for three consecutive years. If they don't beat the Falcons this weekend, the year is a failure. And I will eat my television. Mark my words.
But let's talk about something more pleasant...
Monday: Hearing love live
Last night, I was in my room cleaning up. It didn't get very far in this endeavor, because I kept leaving whatever I was cleaning and going over to my laptop to check the progress of various porn clips I was downloading. Then I would masturbate, then I would lay down, then I'd get up and go down to the laundry room to see some girls in their sultry "laundry day" outfits, etc. So instead I decided to work on cleaning my bathroom, and began the process of cleaning up the pound and a half of hair that I shed every time I dry off after showering, which had accumulated so much that there was about a solid inch of it covering my bathroom floor.
Remember, I live in a "luxury high rise", which basically means it's a fancy-pants dorm. There are 35 floors, each identical to each other, so that above my bedroom is another bedroom, above my kitchen is another kitchen, above my bathroom is another bathroom, etc.
As I was cleaning my bathroom, wearing short shorts and a sexy lil' bandanna, I heard some strange noises coming from the vent above my shower in my bathroom. I turned down my music to get a closer listen, and lo and behold - it was a woman making all kinds of sexy noises!!!
Now, this is probably the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. It's been quite a while since I've heard noises like that live, without paying for it. So I stopped and had a good listen. And this girl was going NUTS. I'm not talking a few lil' noises here and there - this was some real porno star shit. And I was absolutely enthralled. I thought about waking my roommate Brian up, but I decided not to - two guys, standing in a small bathroom, listening to a girl get off? Kinda weird.
I assumed that this girl was masturbating in the shower, because I didn't hear any male voices. I listened it and was just completely freaked out, turning bright red and jumping up and down with happiness. However, after maybe two minutes, the moaning stopped. I fought back the urge to yell "Bravo!" into the vent, because I figured that if I did that, I surely wouldn't get a repeat showing.
After that, there was no way I was going to get any cleaning done, so I did what any other man in my position would have done: went to the kitchen to heat up some sausages. I watched a little tv while I ate, but soon after I was finished, I felt a lil' rumble in my belly (probably because the sausages were of indeterminate age). So I went to take a poo.
As I was sitting on the toilet, I heard the woman from the bathroom above me moaning again. I couldn't believe it - it had been 20 minutes since the moaning had stopped, and she was at it again! Though I had a terrible case of the runs and my bathroom smelled like a garbage fire, I was still turned on, because she was going at it even louder than before. I mean, really, really getting into it, yelling and screaming and the like. So I sat there wiping my ass, captivated.
This went on for a good five minutes, and then I heard a guy moaning and making all sorts of sex noises. Right away I realized that she was obviously not masturbating but getting sexed up.
I couldn't believe she was having sex the whole time...it had been, without exaggeration, 20 minutes. No way some guy could be having sex with her for that long, especially since she was going crazy. From what I recall from my own sexual experiences (and this admittedly is very, very hazy), I have absolutely zero stamina when a woman starts showing interest in the love-making. In fact, I used to ask my ladies to act disinterested while we made sexy time (i.e. watch some tv, read a magazine, send some text messages, place some bets - you know, whatever they normally would do) in order to make the process last a little longer.
So I dismissed the idea of one guy having sex with her whilst she was going that crazy for 20 minutes, unless they were filming a porno in the bathroom above mine. And then I had a horrible insight: what if some guy heard her masturbating like I did, but instead of taking a monster shit, he went up to her room, suavely knocked on her door, and was invited into her bathroom to F her brains out?
This was crushing to me, and to be honest, I still haven't fully recovered. I know that that's probably not the case, but my goodness - what if I blew it? What if I could have been having all sorts of crazy sex, but instead ate some rancid sausage and pooped? These kinds of opportunities don't present themselves very often, and I blew it.
The lesson: be more aggressive. If you think about it, this is the best way to go about meeting women. If you're eventually going to get rejected anyway, what's the harm in going up to a lovely lady at a bar and saying right off the bat, "Hey, I'd like to get you home and stick my fingers in you. Thoughts?" At least you save yourself the hassle of kicking it to her all night long, and don't have to drop $50 on her drinks. What would have been the harm if I knocked on my upstairs neighbor's door to offer a hand, or yelled through the vent that I was ready, willing, but probably unable because my blood pressure was very high at that particular time? If she says no, no big deal. If she says yes, I can die a happy, happy man.
I mean, crap and crap again.