Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, January 26, 2006
a falsity, a stupid award, an awkward wedding moment, a trip, a shout-out, the Aussies, a vote, music
It has come to my attention that based on Tuesday’s post, many of you believe that I had sex with a man on Friday night. I assure you this is not true.

I relayed a story that I shouldn’t have and immediately after posting it, took it down. In place of this story, I wrote “[Confidential Material Redacted].” One of the major fucking problems with this blog is that too many people read it. Because of this, there is a lot of shit that happens that I can’t really write about, as it would be too detrimental to my friends, family, and relationships. In this case, I wrote something detrimental and had to quickly take it down, much to my chagrin. However, I left the quote up because I thought it was funny – not because I said it and did it – without realizing the implications it might have (my first clue came from an email from a gay friend entitled, “So you ARE gay!”). I promise that now more than ever I am a semi-normal heterosexual male. Tomorrow, later tonight, when I check out this ookie cookie clip I’m downloading when it finishes – who knows? – but right now I am 100% heterosexual.

Thank you for your understanding. I promise that eventually I will alienate every person close to me (probably sooner rather than later) and at that point I will release a book titled, “Jason Mulgrew: Shit I Couldn’t Write About Because I Was Trying To Be A Good Friend Or Just Trying To Get Laid – But Seriously, Do You Want To Fool Around Or What?” I’ll keep you posted.


As I predicted, I didn’t get a nomination for any Bloggie. I am ok with this. All the blogs nominated for “Most Humorous” are very funny and also have development deals with major networks to create a television show based on their blogs and lives. Oh wait – NO other blogger has that, just me. Sorry. I forgot about that.

But seriously folks, vote for Michelle Collins’ blog, which is actually funny. Not that it really matters. It’s just a stupid award.

(Did I mention that the director of “E.T.” signs my checks? Yeah. Just thought I’d throw that out there.)

(And yeah, I should have warned you to back away from the computer screen before reading this, lest you get hit with any venom. Sorry about that.)


Great email from Alan in Milwaukee about an, um, uncomfortable wedding moment.

Your post about inappropriate wedding songs reminded me of some that I had to play when I was a wedding DJ in the 90s.

The first couple, I'm guessing Top Gun fans, requested, as their bridal dance "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" by the Righteous Brothers.

When I suggested the incongruity of the lyrics to them, they shot me a look like I had offered to date their 6 year old page boy, so I let it slide.

The second couple asked for "Just The Way You Are" by Barry White. So far, so good you might think. Unfortunately, the bride had been in a car crash that had left her a little brain damaged. Was I being oversensitive in thinking this was the musical equivalent of a huge neon sign that said "look at my spaz wife"?
I’m assuming that Alan had a brainfart, because Billy Joel sings “Just The Way You Are.” Aside from that, I don’t really know what to say about this. But I’m letting you all know that I’m totally stealing this scene and putting into whatever the hell I’m writing. And for this I’m definitely going to hell.

(Among other things, of course.)


No trip to DC this weekend, but it appears that I will be in Seattle from February 1 (or February 2) through February 7. I am doing this because I would like to be in a city that wins a championship at least once in my life. When I moved to NYC in 2001, the Yankees were a dynasty. They haven’t won since I’ve been here. When I left Boston that same year, their teams were perennial losers. How does three Pats Super Bowls and an improbable Red Sox championship sound? Mulgrew-less. And of course, any Philly team hasn’t won in forever (1983).

(Translation: bet big on the Steelers.)

So since I have friends in Seattle, I’m heading there for the Super Bowl. And since I will be reunited with my old roommate Ben, I have alerted all the bars and all-night diners in the greater Seattle area. Because it is going to get downright ugly.


By request and out of admiration for some real men, a big shout-out to Wade and the Cherry Hill N.J. Firefighters. I know you sick fucks are reading and I’d like to thank you for doing something every day that I could never, ever do. I had to help my dad change his car battery last night and he almost had a fucking heart attack when I couldn’t even open the hood of his truck, and you guys are slaying fire on a daily basis. Props, props, and more props.


The Aussies really got up in arms over my inclusion of Pearl Jam’s “Throw Your Arms Around Me” in last week’s “Six Songs.” Stilt in Sydney puts it best:

Pearl Jam's version is a cover - if you want to hear the original (and better) version, it's by a band called Hunters and Collectors. This song is burned into the collective memory of all Australians of a certain age (say, 25 - 40) as something of a mating call / top-notch rooting* song. It can be heard sung globally wherever the sweet combination of Australians + beer + lust can be found.

Whatever you do, don't download the Paul McDermott cover version - it's four kinds of ghey.

* I'm not talking about cheering for a sports team.
And I have to agree with him – the Hunters and Collectors version is indeed better. And I’m totally going to using the word “rooting” for “fucking” (i.e. “Wanna go back to my place and do some serious rooting on the stairwell?” or “So I was rooting this chick and she fucking died – right there in the passenger seat of the garbage truck!”).


Vote for Hey Tiger. Don’t ask questions, just do it. Thank you.


Six Songs

“I Got You” Stone Temple Pilots
Probably the best song about drug addiction by Stone Temple Pilots. I know that’s a strong statement, but I’m sticking to it.

“I’m Waiting For The Day” The Beach Boys
Look, if you don’t own Pet Sounds, send me an email and I will buy it for you. Douchebags who like music will go on and on about ten or twenty or thirty albums that any music fan absolutely must own, but to me there are only six such albums: Pet Sounds, The White Album, Led Zeppelin II, Thriller, Appetite for Destruction, Nevermind. If you have these six, you have a pretty good idea of what all other popular music sounds like from the past forty years (any my apologies for my white rock bias; I am white and I doth rock).

It’s hard to explain my affinity for this track. I like it because I think it sounds more quintessentially “Beach Boys” than any other song they’ve done, but it’s not a hit. And it’s not about surfing or cars or other shit (though nothing on Pet Sounds is, save for maybe “Sloop John B”) – it’s about loving a girl who’s still in love with her ex. Just a solid A+ song.

(Now to make up for my white rock bias…)

“Dip-Set Forever” Cam’ron
Oh, Cam’ron – feuding with Jay-Z? Really? You realize that Jay-Z is a great rapper and you stink, right? What’s so particularly frustrating about Cam’ron is that Kanye and Co. give him some incredible beats that he squanders with the dumbest rhymes in rap (possibly even the worst rhymes in rap history – I’m in no way qualified to make this statement, but I can’t imagine much worse). It’s to the point that I’ll listen to his songs and just shake my head, thinking, “What the fuck is he talking about? I mean, I’m white and all, but I think I usually have some idea of what rappers are talking about. Is he retarded or just really, really dumb?”

This song is no exception and possibly the most egregious example of the awesome beats + shitty rhymes. I am a 200+ pound white Irish Catholic guy with a beard who has never held a gun, has no sense of style, and even less of an idea how to please a woman, but if you gave me this beat I am about 95% sure I could come up with some better rhymes than Cam’ron has. Let’s listen in, shall we?

Top a top on top of the top
But yo - nothing definite
I chop up the rocks
And I stop up the drop
Blocka Blocka the block
Hello mate, yellow tape, helicopter your spot
What you wanted is not what you got
And I pop up them cops
Cause dogg, it ain't about Cam (It ain't about me)
I got a son homeboy, it's about Cam (For that?)
It's about being ‘bout It
If you're not, you're ass backwards
Um, come again? Again, I realize that one shouldn’t look to rap lyrics for divine inspiration, but “Top a top on top of the top?” Can anyone explain this to me?

Anyway, it’s a good beat, so I’ll keep listening to it and just freestyling my own lyrics. I’m actually quite a good rapper. Add that to my resume, bitch.

“Stay With Me” Rod Stewart and the Small Faces
My roommate Brian and I recently had a discussion: what musician do you think had the most sex in the 70’s and the 80’s? My original answer was Ted Nugent. The logic was that though he wasn’t an A-list rock star, any rock star can pretty much get all the sex they want (the quality may differ, but the quantity will be there). So then it comes down to who wants the sex the most. For example, I have very little interest in the physical act of love. This is probably because I’m addicted to porn and also (not-so) secretly deeply misogynistic, but it works out since I don’t get laid much. But Ted Nugent, on the other hand, was addicted to sex. So I went with Ted Nugent.

But then I remembered Sir Rod Stewart. NOBODY gets more p-ssy (I don’t use that word outside of the bedroom) than Sir Rod, and this song is the perfect example why. From the man who said of marriage, “Instead of getting married again, I’m just going to go up to a woman I hate and give her a house,” we have “Stay With Me” and this lyrical gem:

So in the morning
Please don’t say you love me
’Cause you know I’ll only kick you out the door
Yeah, I’ll pay your cab fare home
You can even use my best cologne
Just don’t be here in the morning when I wake up
Fuck yeah, Rod. Fuck yeah. That doesn’t even really rhyme and it’s still totally fucking awesome.

[Remember, the song is called “Stay With Me”, which basically means Rod’s pleading with a chick to come home/stay with him, but then after he gets his nut off, to get the fuck out. Geez – even I want to fuck him now. Not that that’s saying much, but still.]

If you can put this song on and not strut around your living room like you’re the cock of the walk, you are a better man than I. Kudos to you, Sir Rod, you magnificent son of a bitch.

“There Is An End” The Greenhornes (with Holly Golightly)
Some reader whose name nor email I can find introduced me to the Greenhornes, like the Black Keys, an Ohio band. They are spectacular and I am very grateful to this person. This sound like they are from 1967 (listen also to ten seconds of “Don’t Come Running To Me” and you’ll see why). That’s the only way I can explain their sound really, and if you listen to their stuff, you’ll agree. “There Is An End” has a dark, spacey sound to it – the ideal song to have a drug flashback to. After hearing it, I immediately moved it to my “The Soundtrack” playlist, which is a list of songs I listen to while changing TV/movie/literary history forever and creating some of the finest humor the world has ever (or rather, will ever) see(n). Then I usually get high and listen to this and feel warm. Check it out for yourself.

“Elizabeth, You Were Born To Play That Part” Ryan Adams
Jesus fucking Christ. This guy’s music should come with a warning label:

“If you are heartbroken, have recently been dumped, divorced or separated; if are lonely because you are overweight and/or ugly; if you are confused because you are in love with someone’s else lover; or if you are sad because you are gaining more and more weight and are worried that you might actually expire the next time you have sex (if you have sex ever again); do NOT listen to this album. Seriously. It will fuck you up.”

This song is not for the faint of heart. After listening to it, I have only one thought: who is this woman doing this to you, Ryan? What kind of harpie must she be to cause you such pain? Please tell me her name and I will find her and hurt her physically for the pain she has caused you emotionally. I haven’t hit a woman in over six weeks now, but I’m willing to put aside that streak to make you feel better. Drop me a line at jason@jasonmulgrew.com.

(Translation: an incredible piece of music. This guy is a stone cold genius. I want to be his friend.)

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