“Mister Chairmen, I have to raise an opposition to this along with all the other DUI laws. These DUI laws are not doing our small businesses in our state any good, at all. They’re destroying them. They’re destroying a way of life that has been in Montana for years and years. These taverns and bars in these smaller communities connect people together. They’re the center of the communities. And I’ll guarantee you, there’s only two ways to get there: either you hitchhike or you drive. And I promise you that they’re not going to hitchhike.”
Just peed in my bathroom. Stood there, cock in hand, peeing in my bathroom. It was a long one. The pee, I mean, not my cock. Or my bathroom. I’ve got dry mouth and I’ve been drinking a lot of Pepsi One for a couple of hours while watching a DVD, so I guess that was some of it. I stood there – peeing in my bathroom – and Ladies and Gentlemen, it felt like heaven. Emptying my bladder made me close my eyes, rock gently back and forth on my feet, with the steady pleasure of release surging through me. I think I peed for a full minute, maybe longer. During the pee, it felt like a lifetime of futures were possible, that everything was well, and that life had substance – that life itself was alive. A beautiful, easy to quantify sensation. Tempered joy, contained and automatic while your entire being is fully relaxed.
Urinating can take on these lofty proportions if you do it while stoned.
Whenever the calendar turns to spring, my thoughts turn to Steve. In June of 2008, my friend died in a five-car pileup on Highway 1. His car was struck head-on by a drunk driver. He died at the scene, and although his girlfriend, Cindy, made it out alive and can walk again, there are scars. Very deep scars.
A friend of mine tells me last week about this alleged super moon that’s going to hit, and yeah, I’ll admit that I was pretty excited. But who wants to look at a super moon by himself? “No one” is the appropriate response. So, I broke out my little black book—which has actually been rendered obsolete in the age of cell phone contact lists—and I called a few lady friends. This really got me nowhere. Apparently, most of the girls who haven’t heard from me in five-plus years aren’t all that keen on blowing off their Saturday night plans to hang out with someone “who was quite frankly a little iffy to begin with.” So, I went to Plan B, which was to tether my cat Li’l Knarfles to a tree, while I stand nearby, lighting fireworks and drinking a six-pack. Everything was going great: the fireworks were a-sparkling, L’il K was managing not to strangle herself and I found a great urine bush. The ONLY problem is the super moon. It isn’t. I look up in the sky and yeah, there’s a moon, but it’s that same stupid circle of light I see any other month. No rising tides. No wolf-men. Nothing. Also, L’il Knafles now has worms. Read the rest of this entry →
So, I do still occasionally venture over to Gawker just in case Richard Lawson has recapped something, and I noticed that the band Sugarland played on last night’s American Idol. They’ve got a local connection, singer Jennifer Nettles used to be in Athens band Soul Miner’s Daughter and was quite a Big Deal Around Here for a few years. I was never much of a fan. It was all pitched to a certain early-20′s, undergraduate, Indigo Girls level of earnestness that I outgrew somewhere around the time I started having to shave my chin more than once a week.
Nonetheless, I decided to check out their performance. Someone had embedded it in the comments. The full, soul-chewing horror of what I beheld is after the jump.
Pattern recognition isn’t lost on America’s hottest new tween starlet. In her new song, Friday, she correctly lists four of the seven days of the week, in their proper order, without skipping a beat.
“When I finally wrapped my head around it, I was like, whoa. For a while I kept thinking the day after Thursday was August, and the day after that was Uvula. It took a little bit of practice, but eventually I got it down.” Read the rest of this entry →
No one remembers his name. He is not famous for his performance on the job, and his career remains obscure to all but his closest friends—assuming that he has any. However, by their fifth day in the academy, every cop, jailer and service aid has seen his picture, commented on his picture and pointed out his picture to someone else. Read the rest of this entry →