Friday, July 22, 2005
heat and women, LA thoughts, London, censorship, fat, music
Statistic of the Week:
The temperature in my apartment on Wednesday, July 20, at 12:16am: 90°.
90°! After midnight! What the f!
It’s hot in NYC. Like, real hot. Uncomfortable hot. Not good. And though we have air conditioners in our bedrooms, Brian and I do not have an AC in the living room, which means I spend a lot of time in bed. Not that this is a bad thing, but when it's midnight and I leave my room to go make a pork sandwich and I almost pass out in the hallway because it's so hot, well, that's a bad thing.
But there is one good thing to come out of heat: slightly sweaty women. I’m not talking heifers here, walking around eating giant sandwiches and sweating through their shirts, but rather normal attractive women who, because of the unbelievable heat, walk around with a slight glow to them.
And today on my walk home I realized why I like this little bit of sweatiness. Because
Yes, I am fat. But no, I do not care. I like my donuts and my women a little shiny, wet, and covered in crystallized sugar. I make no apologies for this. And screw you for judging me.
I don't know why the sweat does it for me, but it just does. I know for women, it doesn't work the other way around. Sweaty guys are not hot (I would guess). Especially me. When I sweat, all my body hair gets matted down and becomes dark and I look like a black bear. But I digress...
So add slight sweatiness to the list of things I think are hot. If you're keeping score at home, I like:
- slight sweatiness
- the messy ponytail
- girls who can dance
- lip gloss
- hoop earrings
Apparently, I like strippers. So be it.
A few things about my upcoming LA trip:
1) Thank you to all of you who emailed me. I asked you guys to bring it (info about LA) and you didn’t let me down. Now I have the daunting task of figuring out how to process and best use all this new information. I have to be honest with you – it doesn’t look good. For some crazy reason, I feel like instead of doing all the cool things and going to all the cool places you’ve recommended, I’m going to get drunk in my room and then sit by the pool and oogle women. But that’s just an educated guess.
2) A few of you wrote in saying, "Um, you’re staying in Beverly Hills and asking us for money to help pay for that? You would have gotten a lot more sympathy (and more cash) if you said you were showing up with a backpack and sleeping in the airport."
Two things: I’m not staying in BH by choice. I was told to stay there because it is close to everything. Two, I do have a job, so I can pay for this trip – now. What concerns me is what my life is going to be life when I come back. I imagine it will involve a lot of hot dogs, angel hair pasta, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oh, and lots of homemade booze that is really just ground-up houseplants and a few squirts of Fantastik in a glass of Hawaiian Punch. Can’t wait.
There are no jokes to be made about the bombings in London. None at all. And of course I’m kidding.
I’m no expert on diplomacy or world religions or even how I can get the space where my thighs meet my crotch to stop smelling like hot garbage and burnt ham, but I do know one thing: if I were a Muslim person living in London, NYC, or any other big city, I might leave my backpack/school bag at home for a little while. I don’t know – maybe that’s just me, but that’s what I’d do. Also I'd probably stick to tight-fitting t-shirts, some spandex shorts, and some flip-flops. But again, that's just me.
Yesterday, when I got on the subway to leave work, you could feel the tension. And that’s saying something, because New Yorkers are a very tough and resilient people. I wasn’t here after the first London bombings (I was on vacation), so I can’t speak for the mood of the city. But I was here during 9/11, and after the initial shock of that tragedy wore off, the city adopted a "Fuck you – try that again mother fucker" attitude. You could feel it all around. People went about their daily lives with an obstinance that was both admirable and just plain ballsy.
But last night on the subway, it was different. It’s not as though people were visibly shaken or anything, but all throughout the subway car you could feel eyes scouring everything in sight, checking for anything suspicious. Obviously, this has something with London being hit twice – if they can do it once, they can do it again. Something was different.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, so I’ll stop now. I just wanted to get that whole "Muslims should leave their backpacks at home" joke in, and mission accomplished. Also, I’m tired.
In a rare behind-the-scenes look at www.jasonmulgrew.com: I’m thinking of writing a post titled, "Ten Dudes I'd Do For Fifty Grand". That title is self-explanatory, so I’ll spare you further details.
However, I’m a little concerned that if I write this post, many people might think I’m – how do I say this – extremely homosexual. Again, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’d like to have sex with a living, consensual woman again at some point in the future, and I already have enough turn-offs (weight, body hair, low self-esteem, violence against animals, etc) that I don’t need to add "100% gay" to that list.
I asked a couple of female friends about this and they all said the same thing: don’t do it. Their reasoning was “What if you go on a date and the girl googles you?” I responded that it’s much too late for that, and this website has disqualified me from all future employment and from marrying anyone that I don’t already know.
Not only that, I already make jokes about being gay or performing gay acts. But, like everything in this site, I do it in a satirical nature (remember, I’m actually a 38 year-old stay at home from Syracuse). But something about so concretely and explicitly laying out my desires (untrue as they may be) to bone another dude, well I don’t know about that.
Why am I telling you all this? Because this is the first time I’ve ever thought before I wrote. Usually I think, "Wow – I just got an idea for an awesome post about burning down black churches!" and up that post goes. But this time, perhaps because I’m getting old, I’m hesitant. Hmm...
I don’t have an answer here. We’ll just have to see what happens over the next few days.
Gluttonous triumph of the week:
1) Take a French Vanilla Milano cookie
2) Dip it in some nutella
3) Ejaculate all over yourself and your new pants because it’s just that fucking good
You will thank me later.
- "Mexicali Blues" Grateful Dead
This is already the theme song for my upcoming LA trip. I’d love to go to Mexico for a day to live out this song (14 year-old girl, booze, gunfight, etc), but I don’t know if I’m up for it. I don’t know much about Mexico, but from what I’ve heard it’s pretty fucking hot there. So perhaps I’ll just stay in the air conditioned hotel room and listen to this song. Same thing, really.
- "Acetate" Speechwriters LLC
This song is for gay/loser best friends everywhere. It goes, "If he’s the one you want to go to bed with/And I’m the one you wanna wake up next to/I can put myself on acetate to make it easier for you." I have no idea what acetate is, but that’s not important. What is important is that I wish someone had sat me down when I was 12 and said, "Listen – you can be her best friend, the one she calls first with her problems, the one she calls every night to talk, but you are never going to have sex with her. Ever. She is hot and you are not. So aim lower and get to work on the fat chicks." If someone had broken it down for me thusly, the past fifteen years would have been a lot smoother and more efficient. And no, I’m not bitter.
- "Mother Of Pearl" Roxy Music
A few weeks back, I wrote how Roxy Music was very hit-or-miss. Their songs were either kick-ass or crap (in my opinion). And this song perfectly encapsulates this. The first minute and a half is crap, whereas the rest is just frickin’ awesome. If you don’t believe me, check it out for yourself.
- "Turn" Travis
A pretty little ditty based on a simple three chord structure (E-A-B from what I can tell). I’m always amazed when bands can write such pretty songs around such simple music. Amazed and jealous. More jealous, actually.
- "She Came In Through The Bathroom Window" Joe Cocker
The thing I like best about Joe Cocker’s voice is that whenever he sings, it sounds like he’s been sitting in a pub, drinking and smoking cigarettes for the past five hours. I can picture a dive British pub with a bunch of limey guys sitting around drinking pints, when one says, "Why don’t you give us a song, Joe?" And he takes a sip, gets up, goes up there with the lame local band, and fucking belts it out. But maybe that’s just how I see it. Oh, and awesome song.
- "Sound and Vision" David Bowie
If you’re high at a beach house and the stereo is blasting and you sort of walk off to the side while the rest of your friends are playing card games and smoking and drinking and you want a song you can dance to, well, my friend, this is it. You’ll thank me later.
God I am going to get so high tonight and dance like a mother fucker to this song.
[Have a good weekend]