fat tuesday
love is not an intense emotion
love is not an emotion at all
love is not a feeling
it's something so much more difficult
having money kicks ass. i spend some of my beloved hard earned money on a couple of jackets and a pair of docs from buffalo exchange. i was feeling so self conscious about the whole tight pants and baggy jackets that i went out and i got new tighter fitting jackets. it helps a lot.
the first jacket is a totaly fucked up army jacket with 1st sgt designators. the crazy thing is, the name tag and the us army tag totaly don't match and the designators are sewn on all wrong. 1st sgt burrell was a total shit bag! or maybe this is his trashy work uniform for rolling around in the bush? i don't know.
the second jacket is a naval officers working jacket. it's simple and black. not much to say about this jacket except that it fits real nice and it's warm because it's wool.
i got all dressed up and didn't think i had anywhere to go so i went down to marty's. fran was there and floyd was there and then we heard a female voice calling from the window.
it sounded like "marty! marty!" so marty got real excited and went to investigate.
he came back kind of dissapointed. it was just one of harmony's friends. she was calling for harmony.
"was she cute?" i asked.
"yeah," he said, quietly.
"should i go investigate?" i asked.
"duh," he looked at me like i was an idiot.
so i took the subtle hint and gathered up the courage to go talk to her. harmony is cute. way cute. long blonde curley hair and hips like you wouldn't believe. as marty said, a black girls ass on a white girls frame. you can't argue with that.
i ambled downstairs and found the girl posting a note for harmony because she wasn't there. her name was becca.
"so where is the party at?" i asked her.
she didn't know.
"ive only asked two people and so far, everybody seems to think it's at pioneer square."
we got to talking and she told me that she used to live in the room that brian and i share now. she came up to check up on it and she was much impressed with the paint job and the cabinet work.
when i was picking out a jacket for the evening, she made a point to reach out and make physical contact with my skinny boy waist. that's when i knew she was biting the bait.
somehow i convinced this girl to follow me around on a random excapade through the night. it was fabulous. she fed me a fish taco at taco del mar and laughed at all the drunk clowns in the streets. we jay walked infront of cops and felt so punk rock about it. a convenient store owner chastised for it.
we ran into this hella drunk wangsta on 1st, prowling for mardi graw beads with his posse. he accused becca and me of being hippies because of our car. then all his buddies chirped in "you're a hippy, dude. you smoke pot and listen to john melloncamp." and that made my day.
most of the strip was crowded with hip hop and tothless ethnic trash. i've come to the conclusion that mardi graw is the ultamate low-class holiday. just another excuse to get plastered drunk and sport the bling bling!
a frosh got totaly sloshed at taco del mar. he puked all over the walls and his buddy was trying to clean up after him. the guy was too trashed to realise that he was really making a scene of things. he stumbled all over into walls and into doors.
"are you okay?" i asked.
"noooooo...."
everybody hates drunks. even on mardi graw. all the cops were lining the streets and busting drunkards right and left for trying to drive.
when we got back to my car, someone had left a small string of green mardi graw beads. i slipped them around the girl's neck.
we were talking about love. i asked her what her favorite love song was and she couldn't decide. she finally settled on stairway to heaven. i was kind of surprised and confused. she blamed her dad, of course. she said she liked her dad a lot. this girl was full of surprises.
i'd have to say that my favorite love song (as of right now anyway) is leanord cohen's hallelujia. it's so fucking beautiful. nobody sings about love quite like leanord. tom waits can be pretty sweet, too.
becca's eyes are quite intriguing. she was unafraid of sultry eye contact. and i'm such a bashful boy. i just get all weak when a girl looks at me like that. i probably blused twelve times. she took off her shoes and played footsie with me. such brilliant innocent flirtation!
we ended the night at alison's because she's a fucking party in herself. the girls talked and talked and it made me happy to sit and listen. girls are so fucking amazing when they talk. alison's a cancer and becca's a virgo. and apparently, becca's been looking for a sagitarius.
"well i'm your man," i said.
and it was a total coincidence. amazing. i don't think anything in this world is by chance because it always happens so perfectly.
then alison started ranting about how sagitariuses get anoying with their lovable personalities and flighty adventurous spirits. and how they are natural sluts. you just want to love a sagitarius. but sometimes a sagitarius can act so thoughtlessly and inconsiderate, you also want to hate them.
together with add and borderline personality disorder? oh my. it's in the stars. i'm a pretty crazy individual. tough to get along with.
"is that why you were looking for a sagitarius? to run me down?" i asked.
and her sultry eyes answered with a resounding no.
oh my. if she looks at me with those sultry eyes again, i might need mouth to mouth. she's got this brilliant figure. dancer's legs. auburn hair.
meanwhile, alison put on record after record and sang along with it and danced on her little beanbag chair. the chambers brothers, mindless self indulgence, heart, queen and all sorts of nonsense. late into the night.
i think that i if i ever made a movie about a faux punk rock band, alison would have to be the sexy psychotic lead singer with her head bangin' blue hair and glazed over animated eyes. alison is so cool in a first grade sort of way.
i remember in third grade music class when all the kids brought in tapes to listen to and alison brought in guns and roses and queen. she got the whole class riled up and singing to the extent that the teacher had to stop the music. but the class kept singing.
"we will rock you!" over and over. totaly out of synch. it was beautiful.
our mutual friend blyth clark wants people to listen to another one bites the dust at her funeral, alison informed me.
"what would you have played at your funeral?" i asked becca.
she likes jannis jopplin. a lot.
i think i'd have sparklehorse played at my funeral. because they have a lot of songs about death. but maybe i'd rather have songs about life played at my funeral? i don't know.
"we dont have a lot of time to decide," she said. "the rockstar age is what? 27? so if i die tomorrow, you'll have to inform my family to play jannis jopplin at my funeral."
it was a hefty responsability, but i accepted.
"you have to pick a good song, too."
oh my this girl is making me commit already? i'm not sure about this. haha!
even after we passed out, she kept playing records and smiling and singing and being such an entertaining hostess.
"you guys can go to sleep but i'm going to keep playing records until i'm exhausted!" she announced. "and youll hate me in the morning."
we woke up at about 10am and the damn thing was still playing. and we had to rush because becca started work at the magnolia resteraunt in freemont at 10am.
"i love alison," becca said.
i agreed.
that knocked me out. it's not every day that you meet a girl that thinks her dad is cool. they usualy refer to him as a jackass or a dickhead or a burn-out loser psycho bastard. or some combination of the above.
when she got out of the car, she gave me a hug and said "ill be comming by the house again soon."
we have like twelve date ideas planned out. we need to go to thai food. we need to go to kai's and eat the appetisers. we need to go to the wild rose lesbian bar and take shots of taquila and fish for lesbian sex! okay, not so much the lesbian sex. but plenty of ideas.
of course, i have her number. it's going to be rad.
brian and i are discussing our favorite love songs. brian said either ive got a reason by velvet underground or coney island baby by lou reed. i think that's amazing.
why not something sweet and sentimental like nick drake or jeff buckly? wilco? mazzy star? bruce springsteen? haha! no, it's gotta be those perverts lour reed, tom wiats and leanord cohen.
jones soda fortune: now is the time to try something new
love is not an emotion at all
love is not a feeling
it's something so much more difficult
having money kicks ass. i spend some of my beloved hard earned money on a couple of jackets and a pair of docs from buffalo exchange. i was feeling so self conscious about the whole tight pants and baggy jackets that i went out and i got new tighter fitting jackets. it helps a lot.
the first jacket is a totaly fucked up army jacket with 1st sgt designators. the crazy thing is, the name tag and the us army tag totaly don't match and the designators are sewn on all wrong. 1st sgt burrell was a total shit bag! or maybe this is his trashy work uniform for rolling around in the bush? i don't know.
the second jacket is a naval officers working jacket. it's simple and black. not much to say about this jacket except that it fits real nice and it's warm because it's wool.
i got all dressed up and didn't think i had anywhere to go so i went down to marty's. fran was there and floyd was there and then we heard a female voice calling from the window.
it sounded like "marty! marty!" so marty got real excited and went to investigate.
he came back kind of dissapointed. it was just one of harmony's friends. she was calling for harmony.
"was she cute?" i asked.
"yeah," he said, quietly.
"should i go investigate?" i asked.
"duh," he looked at me like i was an idiot.
so i took the subtle hint and gathered up the courage to go talk to her. harmony is cute. way cute. long blonde curley hair and hips like you wouldn't believe. as marty said, a black girls ass on a white girls frame. you can't argue with that.
i ambled downstairs and found the girl posting a note for harmony because she wasn't there. her name was becca.
"so where is the party at?" i asked her.
she didn't know.
"ive only asked two people and so far, everybody seems to think it's at pioneer square."
we got to talking and she told me that she used to live in the room that brian and i share now. she came up to check up on it and she was much impressed with the paint job and the cabinet work.
when i was picking out a jacket for the evening, she made a point to reach out and make physical contact with my skinny boy waist. that's when i knew she was biting the bait.
somehow i convinced this girl to follow me around on a random excapade through the night. it was fabulous. she fed me a fish taco at taco del mar and laughed at all the drunk clowns in the streets. we jay walked infront of cops and felt so punk rock about it. a convenient store owner chastised for it.
we ran into this hella drunk wangsta on 1st, prowling for mardi graw beads with his posse. he accused becca and me of being hippies because of our car. then all his buddies chirped in "you're a hippy, dude. you smoke pot and listen to john melloncamp." and that made my day.
most of the strip was crowded with hip hop and tothless ethnic trash. i've come to the conclusion that mardi graw is the ultamate low-class holiday. just another excuse to get plastered drunk and sport the bling bling!
a frosh got totaly sloshed at taco del mar. he puked all over the walls and his buddy was trying to clean up after him. the guy was too trashed to realise that he was really making a scene of things. he stumbled all over into walls and into doors.
"are you okay?" i asked.
"noooooo...."
everybody hates drunks. even on mardi graw. all the cops were lining the streets and busting drunkards right and left for trying to drive.
when we got back to my car, someone had left a small string of green mardi graw beads. i slipped them around the girl's neck.
we were talking about love. i asked her what her favorite love song was and she couldn't decide. she finally settled on stairway to heaven. i was kind of surprised and confused. she blamed her dad, of course. she said she liked her dad a lot. this girl was full of surprises.
i'd have to say that my favorite love song (as of right now anyway) is leanord cohen's hallelujia. it's so fucking beautiful. nobody sings about love quite like leanord. tom waits can be pretty sweet, too.
becca's eyes are quite intriguing. she was unafraid of sultry eye contact. and i'm such a bashful boy. i just get all weak when a girl looks at me like that. i probably blused twelve times. she took off her shoes and played footsie with me. such brilliant innocent flirtation!
we ended the night at alison's because she's a fucking party in herself. the girls talked and talked and it made me happy to sit and listen. girls are so fucking amazing when they talk. alison's a cancer and becca's a virgo. and apparently, becca's been looking for a sagitarius.
"well i'm your man," i said.
and it was a total coincidence. amazing. i don't think anything in this world is by chance because it always happens so perfectly.
then alison started ranting about how sagitariuses get anoying with their lovable personalities and flighty adventurous spirits. and how they are natural sluts. you just want to love a sagitarius. but sometimes a sagitarius can act so thoughtlessly and inconsiderate, you also want to hate them.
together with add and borderline personality disorder? oh my. it's in the stars. i'm a pretty crazy individual. tough to get along with.
"is that why you were looking for a sagitarius? to run me down?" i asked.
and her sultry eyes answered with a resounding no.
oh my. if she looks at me with those sultry eyes again, i might need mouth to mouth. she's got this brilliant figure. dancer's legs. auburn hair.
meanwhile, alison put on record after record and sang along with it and danced on her little beanbag chair. the chambers brothers, mindless self indulgence, heart, queen and all sorts of nonsense. late into the night.
i think that i if i ever made a movie about a faux punk rock band, alison would have to be the sexy psychotic lead singer with her head bangin' blue hair and glazed over animated eyes. alison is so cool in a first grade sort of way.
i remember in third grade music class when all the kids brought in tapes to listen to and alison brought in guns and roses and queen. she got the whole class riled up and singing to the extent that the teacher had to stop the music. but the class kept singing.
"we will rock you!" over and over. totaly out of synch. it was beautiful.
our mutual friend blyth clark wants people to listen to another one bites the dust at her funeral, alison informed me.
"what would you have played at your funeral?" i asked becca.
she likes jannis jopplin. a lot.
i think i'd have sparklehorse played at my funeral. because they have a lot of songs about death. but maybe i'd rather have songs about life played at my funeral? i don't know.
"we dont have a lot of time to decide," she said. "the rockstar age is what? 27? so if i die tomorrow, you'll have to inform my family to play jannis jopplin at my funeral."
it was a hefty responsability, but i accepted.
"you have to pick a good song, too."
oh my this girl is making me commit already? i'm not sure about this. haha!
even after we passed out, she kept playing records and smiling and singing and being such an entertaining hostess.
"you guys can go to sleep but i'm going to keep playing records until i'm exhausted!" she announced. "and youll hate me in the morning."
we woke up at about 10am and the damn thing was still playing. and we had to rush because becca started work at the magnolia resteraunt in freemont at 10am.
"i love alison," becca said.
i agreed.
that knocked me out. it's not every day that you meet a girl that thinks her dad is cool. they usualy refer to him as a jackass or a dickhead or a burn-out loser psycho bastard. or some combination of the above.
when she got out of the car, she gave me a hug and said "ill be comming by the house again soon."
we have like twelve date ideas planned out. we need to go to thai food. we need to go to kai's and eat the appetisers. we need to go to the wild rose lesbian bar and take shots of taquila and fish for lesbian sex! okay, not so much the lesbian sex. but plenty of ideas.
of course, i have her number. it's going to be rad.
brian and i are discussing our favorite love songs. brian said either ive got a reason by velvet underground or coney island baby by lou reed. i think that's amazing.
why not something sweet and sentimental like nick drake or jeff buckly? wilco? mazzy star? bruce springsteen? haha! no, it's gotta be those perverts lour reed, tom wiats and leanord cohen.
jones soda fortune: now is the time to try something new