Eat A Dick, United States Postal Service

11.1.11
3:54 pm
 
I was just on the line with the U.S. Postal Service's awful phone robot and it asked me:
"Are you in the business?"
Then a saucy pause.
Then: "The 'getting it there safe and sound' business?"
If I had had an employee of the USPS in front of me at that exact second, I would have screamed and laughed and torn their face from their skull, all at the same time.
And then there would have been diffused, polite applause from everywhere and nowhere.
And I would have smiled.
Stuffed their newly removed face into my mouth and smiled.
Chewed, swallowed, grinned, danced then smiled some more.
If I were running the Post Office, I'd go waaay out of my way to make sure the things that are already annoying in regular life (i.e. fucking awful phone robots) were much less annoying in relation to the PO.
I'd hire Morgan Freeman to read haikus about puppies.
Phone robots already make one want to tear peoples' faces off, but the Post Office...?
No one ever goes to the Post Office unless they fucking have to.
No one ever just calls the Post Office to say, "Hey, you guys are doing a great job. Keep up the good work and enjoy your still-attached faces."
No.
They go there because they didn't received something at their home.
They call because something went wrong, perhaps something costly.
And when you are calling the Post Office or the DMV or your insurance provider or any other organization that has a horrible-yet-completely-justified-and-proven-time-and-time-again stigma against it, the LAST thing you want to hear (aside from some disinterested freak with a wet sock in its mouth on the other end of the call) is something like the above awful phone robot statement.
WHY ARE THEY MAKING THINGS WORSE FOR THEMSELVES?
Even if you are coolheaded at the start of the call (and I will argue that years being on the other end of asshole phone calls has made me very sympathetic to these ball gargling fucks), by the time you've listened to the awful fucking phone robot go through its spiel six times, you're ready to...oh, I don't know...remove someone's face and eat it.
So why are they poking their proverbial stick into our proverbial wound?
Do they want people to scream at their idiot employees and tear their faces off?
Maybe this is all some trolling scheme to get great "Difficult Customer" training tapes for future employees?
Whatever the case.
Eat a dick, United States Postal Service.
Eat a massive, rancid dick.
 
In unrelated news, I've started editing The Grind Show again.
Halfway through chapter 29...which is huge, the longest remaining chapter, in fact.
After that, it's all a soft, sexy slope made of buttered leather.
Why have I suddenly returned to editing?
Well, because I have completed Batman: Arkham City, and I enjoyed every second of it.
There are approximately two things they didn't do as well as the first game, but they are minor enough as to not even count in the end.
And the end...oh the end...
I believe this might be the best ending to a video game I've ever encountered.
At least since Red Dead Redemption, but, fuck that, this is Batman.
I'll be replaying it soon, but it isn't going to consume my life as it did when it was fresh, so, don't worry, Phil
TGS will be fully edited well before the end of November.
Let us give thanks...to me.
While I'm not charging Phil anything for the recording and editing of Grind Show, he wrote me a little something that pretty much made everything worth it.
 
Over the weekend...the shitty let's-have-a-blizzard-just-to-fuck-with-Paul weekend...Chris and I had our Halloween party.
It was a sad state of affairs for an hour or so, but then people showed up and then more people showed up and it then began to kick ass.
Should have the '11 Freak Fuck video up soon so you can all either reminisce or feel left out.
Whatever.
 
I think that's all I'm willing to tell you at the moment.
Don't press me.
DON'T.
PRESS.
ME.
 
Don't.

We Only Come Out At Night

11.1.10

3:39 pm

Epic.

Weekend.

Huge.

One for the books.

The books people write about huge parties and fun and parades and dancing.

Those books.

So.

Phil and Grace ( the people, not to be confused with Will & Grace the television show) arrived Saturday afternoon, mere hours before Freak Fuck '10 was set to commence.

Phil was presented with (most of) his Birthday payload from Will, Chris, Diana and I, which included the first ever picture of a clown fucking a dolphin.

First Ever.

Write that down.

Then, after we discussed the list of what had yet to be done, we went out for a leisurely luncheon, then we finished the shopping and decorating and, right around the time Chris came home, we all took naps.

Except Chris.

Who did all the cooking while we slept.

I awoke and donned my costume which, at first, was just "woodland fairy", but, after the party got "bumpin'" and Bill arrived, he dubbed me a Brownie.

After seeing a picture, I was in complete agreement.

At first, the party was Phil (Jack Skellington), Grace (Sally), Chris (Closet Monster) and myself, listening to my demented hallscape booming from the darkened hallway, driving us all insane.

Then Colin (Jesus, the best one I'd ever seen not nailed to a cross) and Joyce (Gypsy Chick) arrived and then, everybody else.

No one slacked this year as far as their costumes, as is evident from the slew of pictures and video taken (go to Facebook, I'm sure you'll find something there).

Everything went at full bore until about three, when Grace, Chris, Linza and Jeannie had an otherworldly Belly Dance Off to some Peter Murphy (which came after a Regular Dance Off between Ray and Chris and a Plie Off between Molly (a ballerina) and I).

We also had some South African rap (NOT Die Antwoord, about whom Linza was gracious enough to answer all my questions) and South African industrial (sounded a bit like KMFDM but sung in Afrikaans), thanks to Josh and Linza.

Plus another spat of "bumpin'" dance trax courtesy of one Philip William Fortes Tucker.

More people met other people and so on, as seems to be the new tradition happening at our recent events.

Wow, was that sentence is mangled.

Sorry, I'm a bit mashed.

Some other excellent costumes included my sister, who showed up as Wednesday Addams (don't think she smiled in one picture...way to play it, sis)and, completely unknown to anyone, Jim and Jen, who showed up as Gomez (Jen) and Moriticia Addams (Jim).

It was the definition of 'kismet'.

Or 'coincidence' if you're an asshole with no magic in your heart.

Also, with my help, Jen learned to pelvic thrust.

I felt as proud as a new mother.

Katey and P.J. made a special surprise appearance which blew Chris' mind and almost brought her to tears.

Linza and Josh (TO WHOM I WAS FINALLY ABLE TO RETURN 'HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE'!!!!!!!!!!!!!) came as Sweeney Todd and Ms. Lovett, Cliff was Barbra Eden from I Dream of Jeannie...and it was horrifying...., Ray was Mr. C (who he described as "Cthulhu if he were a villain on Batman") and Steve, who was, in my mind, an NPC from Fallout 3.

But, the winner by far, was Lauren, who came as Garry Gaga, complete with gun, handcuffs, working walkie-talkies...and three different hats, one of which was a swan.

That, friends, is dedication and how you get ahead in this world. 

We also had several goddesses, a couple pirates and a few ladies who can only be described, with all due respect, as "hot booby girls", plus a witch.

The hallway (of my design this year) was more sensory that the last two, with no light and several lengths of latex tubing hung from the ceiling while a sonorous, deep, moist breathing boomed throughout the hall, our ceiling fan was turned into a Lovecraftian horror, but a cute, approachable Lovecraftian horror and our bathroom, which was taken in a different direction than the previous years, was set up as a kill room from Dexter, complete with pictures of our party guests taped to the tarp.

It was a resounding success, only marred by missing friends.

But we'll see them next time, we hope.

There should be something akin to the '09 Freak Fuck video posted at some point.

And for next year...Chris and I already have ideas...

The next morning, the four of us awoke and set out for Cafe Henri, Phil wearing a midnight blue half-mask and bowler, Grace wearing a blue wig and my Brownie skirt, Chris dressed as a fairy and myself wearing my Army jacket, Aviators and a combat helmet.

We don't brunch...we Brunch.

The food, as always, was delicious.

Then, it was time for the parade.

We suited up again and headed into Manhattan, where all of us were stopped at and around Union Square several times for pictures, especially Phil and Grace.

People were literally running up in droves to take shots with them.

New York loves the Pumpkin King and his special lady.

After meeting with Kaitlyn and getting some food, we braved the throbbing asshole crowds of New York (made 6.37 times more anusy by the holiday) and eventually made our way into the parade, where we were cheered and photographed.

The actor in me felt appropriated fed.

At one point, we were informed that there were about three million people in and around the parade.

Not sure if that number's hyperbole or not, but there were a metric fuckton of people as far as I could see.

We walked the length of the parade, stopping occasionally for pictures or for me to try to fly (almost made it) and exited to meet up again with Jim and Jen, before heading to a bar that ended up being literally around the corner from Irving Plaza, so Chris was able to go to the Doll's show after all, where she had fun.

Jim, Jen, Phil, Grace, Kaitlyn and I took a blue-lit back room and regained our strength for a bit before busting out dance moves that actually had the cops arresting us for being too sexy.

AND, how fucking weird is this, it turns out that Jim is friends with Taryn...a friend of Chris and I, and Chris' roommate from her Junior year.

And the Universe...gets smaller...

Chris rejoined us and we left Phil, Grace and Jim to destroy the rest of the city without us.

An excellent weekend, 10 out of 10 but for this morning when I awoke to find that Phil had lost his brand new Palm Pixie.

Perhaps because the name is totally gay.

No calls were made except to the phone's voice mail and only one text was sent, to me, at 10:01 this morning that read ".N", which I took to mean Phil was still out, drunk out of his mind and unable to even text coherently (I'm so imaginative).

I wish I had been right.

It's a bothersome, costly blight on an otherwise unblemished, cherry-flavored weekend.

I said my goodbyes and went to work while Phil and Grace tried to end things on a high note by having brunch at Tom's in Brooklyn then going on to spend their remaining hours here in Prospect Park.

Aside from the phone, it was a ridiculously funderful weekend.

And the best part?

In eleven days, we'll all be meeting up again, this time with Will and Diana as well.

I love having something to look forward to that isn't DVDs.

And, finally, on top of all this Happy Pudding, in a day or two, I will be posting the product of my most recent gig (all thanks to Ray), which Ray showed me last night.

Two words: Google munnny.

*bite*

Tasty Beaver

11.2.09

3:24 pm

November always seems to disappear.

Thick weekend.

Blood and fetus clogged weekend.

I went as Stiffy the Priapic Clown for the party and, apparently, I am a bit more frightening in a clown suit with full make up, wig, shoes and squeaky nose and sporting (because that is what I do with them, I sport them) a ten-inch erection.

Go. Fig.

We had an excellent and mixed turnout with almost no surly douchebags.

The Machete Vignette was a total, blade-swinging success.

Gourds and apples alike were air-chopped.

And the bathroom....a reeling, roiling Nightmare.

It was a thing of beauty.

Here is some video shot by Darth Paul:
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=195673793361#/video/?of=782173361
And next year?

Topping it.

Always topping it.

Then, Sunday, I ran in the New York City Marathon.

Ah...through the New York City Marathon.

I ran through the New York City Marathon.

To get to Brunch.

And a very fine Brunch it was.

I had arepas benedictos (eggs Benedict with arepas instead of English muffins) with a side of some of the greatest chorizo I've had since France.

And lots of coffee with lots of sugar and cream.

Then, I played a delightful game called Critter Crunch for several hours before delving deep into the 20th season of The Simpsons.

Man oh man have they gotten it right.

Nary a shit episode to be seen and I'm fourteen deep, people.

They have rekindled whatever it was they had.

Again, not as perfect and timeless and etc. as seasons eight and thereabouts, but sterling, excellent stuff.

AND, this blew my fucking mind: they redid the intro.

After twenty years, they redid the intro.

I believe this was spurred by the digital switchover.

Everything is now super detailed and just looks so much richer.

And I'm watching this on a flat screen, non-HD monitor from over five years ago.

Thoroughly enjoying every moment.

And this morning, I ate apple pie for breakfast.

Cue the Springsteen and they turn it off because he sucks blue collar ass. 

And there are now three more spots up on zapnewsapp.com, including Kitty Cam.

Go there and be soothed.

And finally, I just found out that tomorrow I have off.

COCAINE AND WHORES!!!!!!

WOOOO!!!!