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Conversations Over Cocktails in Georgia

"Drink beer, the custom of the land! Beer he drank, seven goblets. His spirit was loosened, he became hilarious. His heart became glad and his face shone." --From Epic of Gilgamesh, 3rd century B.C.
 

*Pet Sounds* cures things.

12/31/06

Pet Sounds makes my sniffles go away.
Pet Sounds makes the blinds work again.
Pet Sounds opens my beer.
Pet Sounds makes you nice.
Pet Sounds finds my keys.
Pet Sounds makes pets quiet.
Pet Sounds.

I am Not Upset that I Did Not Win Karaoke.

12/24/06

I am not. My song was not good. Things did not go how I imagined them in my head. My song sounded better when it was in my head. When I imagined the song throughout the day in my head, it sounded very good. The crowd cheered for me very loudly when I sang the song in my head. Their cheers made me win karaoke. Outside of my head, the song was only fine, and the crowd clapped a lot in the beginning, but less and less as the song continued, until, finally, I think most people wanted the song to end. Eventually, the song ended, someone clapped, I drank many beers, and a middle-aged man with a pencil mustache won karaoke. The karaoke lady used the microphone to say that judging all of the singers was very difficult because everyone was very good, and that nobody should feel like a loser because there were no losers there that night. But I disagree--I think that the guy who won was kind of a loser, pencil mustache aside.

I'm Entering a Karaoke Contest

12/19/06

Seriously. I am. And I think I might win. And if I don't, I'm gonna tear that place apart.

For 3 Seconds Today, Everything Was Perfect.

12/14/06


I don't know to what I should attribute it--probably something biological--a rush of seratonin, positive ions, a pocket of dopamine in my brain--but for 3 seconds today, I became completely overcome with joy. Everything in the universe aligned itself with everything else. Perfect order was mine, as I stood in absolute euphoria. And then it passed and everything was totally fucked again.

When I Act Interested...

12/10/06

...people seem to like me. "Tell me more about your job," I say, and they tell me more about their job. "Do you like what you do?" I ask, and they tell me that they like what they do. "Will you go out of town for the holidays?" I wonder, and they tell me that because they went to their parents' house for Thanksgiving, they will go to their wife's parents' house for Christmas. Later, at their home, they tell their wife that they enjoyed talking to me, and their wife says that I am "a nice guy," and then they consider friends of the wife with whom I might go on a date. It is at this point that I call them on the telephone. When they answer, I tell them to kindly put me on speaker phone. Once I am on speaker phone, I say, "You are undoubtedly the most boring person I spoke to tonight. You sell retractable shelves. And you spoke about them tonight for nearly thirty minutes. When I was talking to you, I was thinking about ways of killing myself. In one scenario I hanged myself from a retractable shelf. Your wife must know what I'm talking about. She has a very large bottom and very small boobies. Do you like her combination of a large bottom and small boobies? When you went to your parents' house for Thanksgiving, did you give thanks for her large bottom and small boobies? Did you feast on her plump ass? Her cornhole-a-copia? Did you put cranberry sauce and stuffing on her big buns? When you go to her parents' house for Christmas, do you look at her mom's large bottom and small boobies and think about how your wife's parts are going to age?" And then they don't like me anymore, because it's true: he sells retractable shelves.

Doo-Wop, Doo-Wop, Doo-Dah

12/1/06


My favorite doo-wop group and your favorite doo-wop group are the same doo-wop group. This fact makes me wanna doo-wop you -- doo-wop you good.

 
   





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