“I’m thinking, I’m hot, I’m sexy, I’m naughty, I’m coy, I’m scared”

Damn baby you lookin goodMat is going to make a collection of his college photos? That rocks. If I did that, wow. A lot of my pix would feature Danny Williams holding me up against the wall of the men’s bathroom in Dave’s Taverna, so I wouldn’t pass out into a pile of my own vomit on the floor. OOOOH BURN. Alcohol poisoning happens. A lot. Good times!

”Your Ad Here” is dead, and that makes me very sad. Reprinted from their Archives:

I think I might be unwittingly drinking out of my demographic. It’s ginger ale. I really like it; it brings me a sensory comfort hardwired to the one it provided me during the various hospital overnights I endured as a child. But ginger ale is not for me. Everything about it’s packaging, no matter the brand, suggests a much older, more enfeebled consumer.

Ginger ale has never really changed much, has it? From Schweppes’ calligraphic lettering and regal seal depicting a pair of lions, to Canada Dry’s whatever-the-fuck Mercator projection, ginger ale does not exactly ooze vitality. Ginger ale is a pinochle partner, a tummy soother (at least that’s how it was presented to me when I had a headache in my stomach), the Earlybird special at Tuck Everlasting Retirement Village. It doesn’t rock. In fact, it can barely seem to walk without medical assistance. Ginger ale bottles and cans (just clap your hands) are as understated as they can possibly be, with the exception of a pronounced NO CAFFIENE label that might as well just read “Won’t Kill Grandma!”

Mountain Dew promises to rock your balls off. Pepsi can cause children to get flossy with beefed-up short order cooks. The right beer might get you a blowjob, or at least a reach-around. But what does ginger ale get you? Nothing. That might be ok for senior citizens, barflies, and tonsillitis sufferers, but what about my generation? We’re the ones with all the spending power. We’re buying robot dogs faster than they can be manufactured – couldn’t the ginger ale beverage group cash in on some of this?

Ginger ale is the only soft drink I will allow to accompany Chinese takeout. And it looks great in a glass if you’re not drinking at a bar because it still looks like an alcoholic cocktail, therefore lacking the pretension (and questions about previous substance abuse) that stigmatizes ice water or cola. In fact, positioning ginger ale as the perfect beverage to wean one off an old alcohol problem without compromising one’s social status might be just the way to go for this old carbonated hound. There is a lot of promise here:

“So refreshing you’ll hardly miss cleaning urine out of your khakis.”

“Bottoms up, coward!”

“Looks like booze, tastes like rehab.”

And so on. In addition, ginger ale manufacturers should consider including images of BMX bicycles, warlocks, and the beloved Jabberjaw on its painfully staid packaging to attract a younger eye. Oh yes – there should also be a deck of bawdy playing cards adhered to every bottle and an official Aerosmith Coke Spoon in lucky cans. Things young people like.

I‘m just brainstorming here.


Weekend Rave-iew

Weddings. Weddings. Weddings. Weddings out my ears and other orifices. This one was like all the others. When you go to seventeen weddings in one year, it’s hard to get emotional about them anymore. But it was fun, an open bar, and they handed out mix CD’s as their take-home favor things. With Van Morrison and Kenny Rogers. Rock on.

Sunday I spent all day in my pajamas lying on the floor, eating Golden Grahams, and pushing the remote control buttons with my nose to alternate between the Food Network and shitty movies on the Superstation. The I watched the Goonies on DVD, complete with cast commentary. That Martha Plimpton is SASSY! She made fun of Corey Feldman’s drug problems, I love her a lot.


I had to buy a whole new exhaust system for my dumb car. I thought I would only need a muffler but OH NO instead I spent almost $400 for a whole new system. This means I am set back again from affording to move out of my ghetto house in the sticks into something more suave. The guy that replaced it was definitely Arabic and had all sorts of Arabic things hanging in his office, and my father went to drop the Volvo off for repairs with me and since he’s pretty much prejudiced (yes, my DADDY who I love is a big honkin’ southern fried bigot) he kept rolling his eyes at me while we were in the office. I wanted to say when I got my car back “DAD! You owe me $300! Because all I probably needed was just a muffler until you turned in to Captain Jackass from the Planet Ignorant! And now they replaced the whole system and are thinking ‘Ha ha, silly American nationals! You are ignorant and rude and wrong a lot, so we overcharge you!’

AND. Snoop Doog was on “Just Shoot me” last Thursday, which is a lame show but it’s SNOOP. He lives his whole entertainment life as a parody of his real life. It must be fun to be famous enough to pull that shit off.

Sig has a ferret living at his house named “Schmoopie.” We let it eat snacks with us last night.

Two thumbs up.


Also, did i ever mention i used to have roommates who were straight up star wars WHORES? and that my boyfriend is too? and that back when i was a skinny 16 year old, many years ago, i never would have dated or lived with these people, i probably would have instead wanted to kick them in the teeth? or punch them in the throat?

It’s good i have matured so.

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