i wake up 45 minutes late to see that Women by Bukowski is on it’s way to me via Paperback Swap. the bus ride is slow and lacks attractive women. i listen to a playlist i made for a girl 18 months ago. i’m not nostalgic, it’s just one of my finest.
at work a Chinaman comes in and is followed directly by a Nigerian. they both buy some equipment for me and i pocket $55 in cash commission that i will drink later. cash isn’t real money today, it’s just a volume of liquid. i try to maximize it.
the work day ends at 2pm because my overweight boss’s meeting with some CDW brass goes well. he tells them the same jokes we hear on a nearly daily basis. they’re new to them so the laughs might be genuine. he buys us exactly $114.87 worth of pizza. it’s decadent and greasy and free to me. it involves 7 different varieties of meat. the other owner of the company, a 55 year old Jewish man, asks me if i plan on going “clubbing” tonight. with my charm and his wallet we could be a dangerous duo.
on the way home i stop at Reckless Records to spend money i shouldn’t. and actually i don’t. i buy sour cream instead.
i read a little bit of Rules of Attraction then i pop in The Beach. i feel inspired to write this post. in this prose. maybe i feel like i’m developing a style. probably i’m ripping off Bret Easton Ellis. again.
after crisping some meat perogi with brown butter sauce i get a call to be ready in 30 minutes. tonight will involve The Prairie Cartel at Bottom Lounge followed by some allegedly hot and possibly lesbian DJs at Sonotheque. my coconspirator picks me up and we go so someone else’s apartment where everyone gets high except for me. i learn that our driver has been schrooming all night. that must be why he was swerving to avoid all those dragons bleeding caramel.
my phone takes a brutal fall while i climb some scaffolding fueled by Sparks.
calling The Prairie Cartel garage disco punk goes against my rule of elaborately named music genres. but they are all of that. it’s one of those shows where people are afraid of the stage. a new (catchy) song that i can’t recall. Scott Lucas uses human beings as mic stands for their closer Suitcase Pimp. undecided on if it’s forced or punk rock. i’m leaning toward the later. blasted at this point and can’t remember to buy their 2 EP’s which is long overdue. i call out the coat girl on being half Asian. i’m right. i always am. this must be my super power.
i feel like wingmaning at Sonothreque and end up hooking up a friend of a friend with the 6th cutest girl in the joint. i feel accomplished. i don’t remember the music one bit. we close the place down and someone drink and drives me home. i meet a Belarussian girl with a complicated name on my stroll back from the worst Taco Bell of all time who i friend on facebook after drunk texting and before falling asleep.
that was Friday.
currently i’m rocking 267 friends on facebook. tomorrow is my annual birthday and the news of that will be published for all of them to see. let’s say 10% of those people actually care and wish me a happy birthday. that means i should receive at least 27 birthday wishes tomorrow and if not i am going to kill myself and then unfriend the non wishers. in that order.
facebook relationships are serious business.
my 8th tattoo from Zach Stuka at Deluxe Tattoo is just about wrapping up the healing process so i thought its about time that i would put my tattoo wisdom to blog…
before the tattoo:
- get something a little bigger than you’re comfortable with. there is nothing worse than a puny tattoo. and let’s face it, you’re probably going to get bigger over time, fatty.
- let the artist do their own rendition of your idea. it will be better than anything you spend months scribbling and altering. as a matter of face, please give them creative freedom. they are artist after all (well, hopefully they are at the shop to patronize).
- do get a Japanese animation hamster. that ex girlfriend who likes the character will never leave you. ever.
- don’t focus on the price. this is a piece of art you will be wearing on your body for your lifetime. most shops charge by the hour not by the real estate.
- don’t be scared by the marketing of certain shops into thinking they are the only ones whose tattoos will not cause your arm to get infected and fall off. and if you need to get a prison tat just make sure the needle is burnt with a lighter before you get stuck.
after the tattoo:
- you are not 14 years old and you did not realize how much better Vaseline Intensive Care is than spit. do not over lubricate your tattoo. none for the first 2 days. baby needs to dry out.
- do not use Preparation H. WTF Jade Dragon. it’s bad enough that i technically have a giant wound on my arm but you make me to go Osco to buy hermoid cream for it’s after care? for shame. and your shop sucks.
- use dark sheets if you’re wrapping overnight. you body will leak all kinds of funky colors.
- be mentally prepared to have a bed full of skin flakes. add that to any blood or ink stains to make your bed look like a full blown murder scene! or performance art.
Inspiration.
i’m still undecided about attending the faux high school reunion in 2 weeks. just incase we’re putting the diet/fitness program into overdrive. so i thought i would do the internet a service and share my dieting philosphy.
1. “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” i know when i was told this there was a definite sense of sarcasm involved. i stripped it of that. it is now law.
2. buy a really rad article of clothing that is too small. such as this shirt.woot in size small. i need to earn being able to wear it.
3. ahh the invaluable wisdom of Dr. Cox. “the key to my exercise program is this one simple truth: i hate my body. do you understand the second you look in the mirror and like what you see, you’ve lost the battle.” Scrubs mirrors reality. people are really like that and that’s how hospitals actually operate. they wouldn’t put it on TV unless it was true.
4. food is fuel. it is not entertainment. at least during the week. weekends means chorizo is allowed inside me. during the week it’s all high protein, low fat.
5. suffer. complaining about the diet justifies doing it.
6. i’m quitting beer. until the next rock show or baseball game. which happens to be Wednesday. fuck.
lets also keep in mind that i have the body image issues of a 14 year old girl due to watching pro wrestling non-stop for 20 odd years.
went to the Prairie Cartel / Hey Champ / Ruby Isle show at the Empty Bottle with the (most recent) ex this past Tuesday where i got absolutely destroyed. only-guy-on-the-dance-floor type of destroyed. that was a ball. but prior to blacking out my ex told me that i was not welcome at any of the Silent Sirens shows.
the ex is currently dating the bassist of said band and he is extremely uncomfortable with the fact that the ex and i are still really good friends. what a foreign concept! anyway. those of you who know me, and know my personality can probably tell that i am extremely giddy about this series of events. it’s fun to be threatening to wieners who are weaker minded than you. especially if they’re in a band.
the kicker is that i really sort of dig their music and would probably want attend their show anyways. instead i might ACTUALLY respect the ex’s wishes and not go see them live. or i’ll go in disguise.
Mark Anthony Kasperowicz is trying to hold steady on the righteous path.