Everything is wrong with me
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
 
slack, Cash, diamonds, help, cards, music, Ray, thanksgiving
It's really funny how hard it is to write these things after I take only a few days off. Good lord. You'd think that it's like riding a bike or swimming or something, but it's not. And you'd think that I'm all doing is stringing together a bunch of run-on sentences with the same fat/drinking/get no ass jokes like I've always done, and, well, that part is true. But still, I take a few days off and it takes me three times as long to write a stupid post. I know, I know - you don't care.

I've been slacking lately and I know this. I have many deadlines approaching with my other projects: the Variety Project (which can not be discussed further) and The Project That Can Not Be Named (which can not be discussed further at this time). However, you'll be happy to know that I'm essentially squandering the opportunity of a lifetime because I'm unable to deal with pressure and completely addicted to the Tetris that I've downloaded to my cell phone. Oh well. So much for everything I've ever wanted and realizing my only lifelong dream.

In the future when I'm slacking, I'll tell you and perhaps take a few days off, rather than leave you hanging. I know that it is frustrating to keep refreshing this page for updates and to not find any. I know this because many of you have no problem telling me this. There's nothing quite like spending all day trying to write something funny (for the other projects and for the blog) but being unable to because of tremendous writer's block and then checking your inbox to find an anonymous email saying:

Dude,

Your posts this week SUCKED!!!! Do something!!!! I am bored over here!!! BE FUNNY!!!!
or

God you suck anymore! What happened??? And enough with the sports! Just stick to the funny!!!
I don't like to harp on this (though I seemingly always do), but remember, this is a free service. And really, I'm trying very hard for y'all, but I gots a lot of other stuff going on right now. I apologize for slacking, but in the future, please keep it to yourself. It comes in ebbs and flows, so if you give me some time, I promise it will be good again.

(But not today. Today's post stinks. Just warning you.)

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I saw "Walk the Line" yesterday. You should too.

Now hear me out: I am no great Johnny Cash fan. I could probably pretend to be, as I am adept at lying (remember, this whole thing is fake anyway; my wife just gave birth to our 3rd child, a girl named Sarah Michelle, after the Vampire Slayer), but I don't have the energy.

In sooth, I only own three Johnny Cash albums: Folsom, San Quentin, and America, and I only like the prison albums. I bought these a few years back with a gift certificate at Amazon.com (they came as a three-pack). I have since tried to get into some of this other stuff, since everyone knows its cool to like Johnny Cash, but aside from a random track here and there ("I Hardly Ever Sing Beer Drinking Songs", "You're The Nearest Thing To Heaven", etc), I haven’t been able to.

But I certainly do like the prison albums. And to prove that I liked them way before both Johnny Cash died and this movie came out, a quick story: they used to be my make-out music. I was hooking up with this girl rather steadily and when it came time to do the dance of love, I would put on Folsom or San Quentin. And for awhile, she didn't say anything. Eventually it dawned on her that we were listening to a concert in a prison during our intimate moments and she made me put on David Gray or something instead. I think it's because she didn't feel sexy with "Dirty Old Egg-Sucking Dog" playing in the background. Not surprisingly, our relationship didn't last long. And now I'm kinda famous. And I'm sure she couldn't care less. Edge: draw.

Back to the movie...I would recommend it. My roommate Brian and I joked when we first saw previews for it that you really have it "bring it" when you play a role like Johnny Cash, and Joaquin Phoenix certainly brought it. Reese Witherspoon more than held her own with Phoenix as June Carter, and looked downright sexy in a wholesome-but-I-wonder-what-happens-after-enough-booze-when-the-lights-go-off kinda way.

But while it was an entertaining way to spend an afternoon, it was exactly what I expected. Not that this is a bad thing, but it's just kinda eh. I thought it was going to be a good movie, and it was. I thought it was going to portray Johnny's difficult life, and it did. I thought it was going to focus on the love story between Johnny and June, and it did. So while highly enjoyable and watchable, I wasn't blown away.

Final rating: 7.5 out of 10

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Friday night I was checking out this chick across the bar - putting out the vibe, telling her "I'm available and I'm down for anything (including assplay)" with my eyes - for a solid hour before I noticed that she was wearing an engagement ring.

That a guy checking out a girl now has to look for an engagement ring is a sad fact of mid-twenties life. I just don't understand how people my age are getting married. Wait a minute - maybe it's because they're happy and in love. But since the only things that make me feel happy or in love are butter-based or made from barley, I guess I won't be able to understand marriage for a long, long time.

But when I saw her ring, I actually felt bad for her. Not because she's getting married and thus missing out on the opportunity to spend a night with me in my bedroom watching me eat goat cheese and read extremely violent pornographic magazines, but because the diamond on the ring was tiny. Like, very small. Barely noticeable even. Poor chick (literally).

And so I had a crisis of conscience: is this what I have become? Someone so obsessed with material things that I pass judgment on those around me and their possessions? Now that I am a professional writer and supposedly fabulously wealthy, is this what my life is now? Looking down on the poor and less fortunate, the very class that I was born into and raised in (hear those violins)?

I have always thought that there are few things in life that you should really splurge on, and an engagement ring is number one on that list. This is precisely because people look at rings as if the size of the diamond is directly proportional to the couple's love and happiness. I know that when the time comes, I'm going to have take a second mortgage and sell most of my possessions on eBay because I'm set on buying a ridiculous ring for my lover. I'll do this not only because any girl/guy who puts up with me deserves it but also because I don't want her/him to develop a complex about the ring. But though I'm pro "breaking the bank" when it comes to engagement rings, never before have I looked at one with such disdain and thought, "Well, sucks for your sister. Maybe I can loan your man a couple of bucks so he can buy the rest of that diamond for you."

But as I thought more about it, I wasn't having this reaction because of my materialism. I didn't really care about her tiny diamond or how much her ring cost or what her man does for a living. I cared that she was engaged and thus unattainable to/for/by me. Frustrated by this, I needed a) an excuse as to why a girl who I'm obviously interested in and sending vibes to isn't sending them back; and b) to lash out. I was just pissed off because I wasn't going to get her! See?

So I'm not materialistic. I'm just emotionally shallow, bitter, and jealous. Whew! Thank god. That was a close one.

[But seriously ladies, I'll buy you a big engagement ring. This mini-post was all a front just to get that message across. Don't be like that girl with the tiny ring. I can go to the bank and take out a loan and in no time you'll have your big ring, and I'll spend the rest of my life working two jobs until my untimely death at the age of 31, when while delivering a Steak Fanatic pizza I'm gunned down for eating a slice one a customer's stoop. It'll be just like the life you dreamed about when you were a little girl.]

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Speaking of Friday night, I want to get this down on paper because my friends seem to have so much trouble with it.

On the surface, I don't have much to offer. I'm not especially handsome, not in good shape, I don't dress well, and I don't have a lot of money. I also have a terrible speaking voice, spit when I talk, have poor posture and bad hair, and currently have a moustache. So when I'm out at the bars, needless to say, it's an uphill battle.

But I do have some things going for me, mostly involving this blog. I was one of People's "50 Hottest Bachelors" for 2005, which may sound like a joke, but is not. I am an actual writer now, in that a third party is paying me to, well, write something. A few thousand people come to see what I have to say every day (because it is because they have run out of ways to kill time at work is not important). I am surprisingly strong. I have long, tentacle-like fingers that are good for grabbing and holding things. And I can drink a lot of fucking beer. I'm not stroking my ego here, but rather laying all my cards out on the table to give both sides of the story.

So when I go out, I "ask" my friends to help me get across some of my good points (the first half of that previous paragraph only). Yeah, I know it's lame, but let's face it: I have to use what I can here since I can't rely on my abs or my fancy watch to attract the women. Women like artsy guys, so the writer thing could work. The People thing, though they won't believe it, will give me an opportunity to make a joke out of it. And the blog angle, well, blogs are hot right now. I think. The problem is that I can't just come out and say these things. My friends need to do that.

And this would not take much for my friends to do. A simple, "This is my friend Jason" is fine. Then later, while not in front of me, maybe my friend could say to his friend (the girl or girls), "You know, Jason's actually a writer. He's got this blog that got him [Variety project] and [The Project That Can Not Be Named] and he was actually in People as one of the hottest 50 bachelors. He's actually like a little bit famous." And that's it. That's all I ask. If they're not interested, that's fine. But if it facilitates a conversation between a woman and I, then I am happy. Even if that conversation ends with me pulling out clumps of my own hair and screaming, "This is how much I love you! This is how much I fucking love you! Love me back! YOU HAVE NO HEART!" that's ok, because that part's on me. And her, because she won't love me back.

I'm not sure if my friends are "simpletons" or "assholes" or most likely a mixture of both, but they can NOT pull this off. It usually winds up that when meeting or being introduced to a group of girls, one of my friends will say something like, "This is Jason. He thinks he's famous because he has an internet diary" or "This is my friend Jason. He asked me before we came out to tell you that he's a writer because he thinks that'll impress you" while I force a grin and fake a pleasant greeting like when Lloyd Christmas finally meets Mary Swanson's fiancée in "Dumb & Dumber." That leaves me frustrated (sexually and generally) so the night usually deteriorates into me standing by the bathroom of the bar so that I can say "I'm a writer" in an obnoxiously loud voice when women walk by. Because I think this will attract them. Because I am a moron.

So anyway, thanks again to my friends for really helping me out on this. I appreciate it. I have no hope that they'll actually start helping me now that I've written this, but rather I just wanted to excoriate them in public.

Assholes.

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My roommate Brian and I are thinking about sending out Christmas cards. No, we are not a couple. But the Christmas card is an easy medium for humor. We were thinking about doing this last year but were too lazy too. But I recently came up with an excellent idea for a card and, since I'm not working/writing, I'm ready, willing, and able to dedicate a lot of time and effort to this idea.

One thing I'm not prepared to offer? Money. I haven't gotten a real work check since the end of September. And I still haven't been paid for either of my projects. So I've been living off credit cards and pocket change (I really wish I was joking here). Right now, I'm the poorest I've been since my junior year abroad in London, when I ran out of money in April (I was there through the end of May), and so had to stop eating and lost 40 pounds.

So my question: would you pay a small sum - a few dollars - to get a humorous holiday card from me and Brian? Please, don't email me with your answer though. I'm thinking about getting Site Guy Brendan (who I haven't bothered in quite some time) to put some sort of multiple choice quiz on here or something that would record answers, but I think it could be a good idea. And I really want to get the cards, but they're way more expensive than I thought. So I guess right now you should just think about it and expect something soon.

And this is some delusional moment of self-aggrandizing, well, then, I'm ok with that.

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Six Songs

"I Only Want You" Eagles of Death Metal
A catchy little ditty by a band not nearly as scary as their name implies. I don't really know what else to say about it, except I often sing this song at random times throughout the day and it's a great song to drink beers to.

"Kiss Me" Sixpence None The Richer
Is it weird that I like this song? That sometimes when I'm walking around town and it comes on my iPod I just want to spread my arms wide and spin around in the middle of Soho, as I think about Elisha Cuthbert and I holding hands, giggling, and kissing? And then we go back to her place where I tie her up, keep her locked up in a room for eight days, and feed her nothing but peaches and Snapple ice tea as I have my way with her? Is that sentence enough to warrant a restraining order?

Maybe I should stop reading all those extremely violent pornographic magazines.

"Ain’t Nobody Home" B.B. King
Good old blues. Actually, it's blues with a bit of a pop sensibility. And yes, I'm pretending to be a music critic. And no, I don't get that joke either. I'm not even sure that it's a joke, so let's just move on...

"In Your Room" The Bangles
Sexy, sexy, sexy. This song gets me all hot and bothered and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

"By The Light Of The Cash Machine" Glenn Tilbrook
A sickeningly sweet love song. So of course I love it and listen to it constantly. I would say more, but we're over 3000 words for this post and I'm running out of gas fast.

"Dinner Bells" Wolf Parade
At the end of the night on Friday night (Friday night getting a lot of press today), my friends Jeremy and Lauren and I cut out of the bar a little early to beat the rush for pizza and go to my place to get high. Some pot, named "The Crippler", has recently been introduced into my life and I can think of no better name for this marijuana. I can't express this enough. It's like getting a temporary labotomy. And it's awesome.

So Jeremy, Lauren and I ate and got very, very high. When they got up to leave after awhile, I was surprised, since at that point I couldn't feel my body and certainly couldn't get my legs to work properly.

After they left this song came on my iPod, which we were listening to through speakers during our session. I was very, very messed up. I put this song on repeat and listened to it an indetermine number of times as I sat there, dying. I could feel myself slowly expiring and am convinced that sitting on that couch, high as fuck, I got my heartrate down to about 15 beats per minute, listening to this song over and over again. "There will be no dinner bells/Dinner bells to ring" - I have no idea what the fuck this means, but I was convinced that it would be the last thing I ever heard. And I was totally fine with this.

Fortunately, I lived. I passed out on the couch, woke up when it was daylight, went to bed, and slept some more. But this song and I really had a moment there, and I will treasure that forever. Or until I get high and listen to the next song that comes on my iPod.

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Go vote for Ray. I like Ryan Adams, but there's no way Ray should lose to the surf rock/college girl rock of Jack Johnson. Vote several times if you want. Because he's totally fucking awesome, and we all know it.

[When I first had the idea to include this on the post, Ray was down to Jack Johnson 39% to 38%. But by the time this post was published, Ray took the lead 46% to 34%. So you can see how long it took me to write this post.]

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This will be the last post until after the Thanksgiving holiday. I’m off to Philly tonight where I will be through the weekend. Wednesday night I'll be drinking my face off in the local bars, Thursday I'll be stuffing my face and answering my family's questions about my moustache, and Friday I have a glorious pub crawl starting at 2pm with some highly-regarded drinkers. Should be a fun time.

So have a Happy (and safe) Thanksgiving and see you next week.



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