The Funniest Thing I've Heard In A Long Time
06.29.05 (9:44 am) [edit]I was in a gas station last night, about to buy some godawful corn-syrup laden soft drink (even though I know better) and I'd been aware of the two women behind the counter as I walked in, not really paying attention as they were discussing something about celebrities.
Right as I walked to the counter, one of them (who sorta looked like Edie Falco in more bad eyeliner with an extra 40 pounds) said "Jessica Simpson can lick my hairy love-slit!"
Wow.
Let me repeat that.
She said, "Jessica Simpson can lick my hairy love-slit."
The other girl started laughing her balls off, which has to be hard to do when you're a girl. Me, I managed to pull my tongue back out from my throat, put the Pepsi on the counter, and, as I turned blue from asphyxiation, started clapping. Applauding this fine upstanding lady for her fine taste in...uh...whatever it was. Which made *her* laugh, so I felt like I'd done my part.
Jessica Simpson can lick my hairy love-slit. Damn, I wish I'd had a love-slit just long enough to think of that one first.
Still in awe 15 hours later,
Dougie
Bar Dougie
06.24.05 (9:46 pm) [edit]I fucking hate bars.
One of the stupider things I have to endure is the fact that while the one thing in the world I'm any good at - playing bass - is only ever going to make me any money inside a bar, I can't stand the goddamn places. The beer costs too much, it's too loud to think, shit's sticking to the floor that could confound scientists for eons, and most of the people there are fucking idiots.
So I hung out in a bar tonight.
Walking around Broad Ripple, I took in all the signs, trying to figure out where to go to meet chicks. Because chicks dig freshly divorced fat guys with bad attitudes towards bars. No really, it's true.
I stood there for half an hour trying to remember why I was doing this. It felt like a completely stupid exercise, a total waste of time when I could be home jerking off and drinking stuff I actually like. Wow, I really AM an anti-social, cynical fuck. I felt like Johnny Depp in the brilliantly-shot scene in Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. "Get some golf shoes! We're surrounded by giant reptiles! And somebody's feeding BOOZE to these goddamn animals!"
It was that ugly. I was horrified by the shallowness of it. And I'm the guy who's not getting laid. Yep, that's me.
One girl came up to me, a girl who had walked in with another guy. So that was weird right off the bat. She started talking to me, being very nice. She was fucking beautiful. Stunning. And she was obviously doing her good deed for the day, trying to make the fat guy in the corner feel better. Which I appreciated, but it didn't really work. She asked if I listened to Jack Johnson. "Yeah, I think it's one of the best albums Miles ever did." Blank stare. "I'm just fucking with you. Yeah, I've heard some of his stuff."
The other guy came back for her and she left. Thanks for keeping the fat guy company, luscious already-taken blonde girl. I think I'm going to go home now.
Hanging out at a FedExKinkos at 11PM on a Friday,
Dougie
Bad Joke
06.23.05 (1:31 pm) [edit]I've got all this shit swarming in my brain, but I really don't feel like typing up any of it (not that it's so bad, I just don't feel like it right now) so instead, I'll share with y'all the joke a guy told me Saturday night at my band's gig in Anderson, Indiana.
Why did God give the blonde one more brain cell than the horse?
So she wouldn't shit in the street during the parade.
Yes, it's crude and disgusting, but I laughed, goddammit.
Getting ready to go listen to about five hours worth of Chet Atkins albums,
Dougie
P.S. Tom Waits' Nighthawks At The Diner is the best album ever invented for newly single guys to get drunk in the dark to.
Back Home Again In Indiana?
06.18.05 (8:38 am) [edit]I got the apartment keys last night.
Wow. This is where I live. Well, *there* is. Back in Indianapolis. I just drove from there back to Cincy this morning. No internet connection there, and probably won't have one at home for a while, so I'm just doing the library thing for now. I haven't spent much time online lately, and don't really intend to for a while. Just some quick stuff here and there. I'm much better focused without it, to be honest. Oh, someday. Shit, I might even do it soon. you know how erratic I am.
I really like the place. The location was key. As far southeast as reasonable, as close to I-74 as possible. I think I nailed it. I can zip down Thompson Rd. (believe it or not, Hunter Rd. is just north of there) and be at 74 in a few minutes, and be heading south to Cincy to see Katie. Can make it there in about an hour and 45. I'm one mile from a major road with lots of food and shopping. Hell, there's a music store and a Thai place in the same center. If the teaching gig in Greenwood goes under, maybe I'll try this place, and get a bike. Bike to work? Fuck, I like that idea.
It's a nice place, and seems to be a nice neighborhood. It looks like it's just starting to be developed up, which is cool, but I hope they don't do it too fast. I like being on what feels like the very edge of town.
Dad helped me move things yesterday, and Sheryl let me take a twin bed, an office chair and an end table in addition to my other stuff. I inaugurated the place with Keneally music, The Universe Will Provide. Seems appropriate. I listened to Mikey conjure up new worlds while unloading stuff into the kitchen and bathroom. (And yes, I took a MASSIVE shit as another way of marking my new territory, so to speak. I took about 6 shits yesterday, and they were ALL A DIFFERENT COLOR. One came out like some hellish antedeluvian mix of cottage cheese and motor oil. What the fuck did I eat? Those cheap-ass VP deli sandwiches are worse than I thought, I guess. I think I'll re-write that classic H.P. Lovecraft story and call it The Colour Out Of Douglas. THAT'LL make your Massachussettes farm turn all gray and crumble into nothingness.
Well, I'm in Cincy right now. Going off for Thai food (hey, I wanna see new colors) then to load up the car with more of my stuff and see Katie's dance recital. Sheryl took some WONDERFUL pictures, go check out the slideshow on her blog. (almsthvn)
Then I drive like fuck to the apartment, unload, load my amp back up, and drive to Anderson to play with my northern band tonight. Oh, did I tell the story yet about the band in Cincy last week? THAT'S a fun story. It involves a jailed guitarist, a psychotic wife (not mine, she's fine), a pissed-off drummer, a crackhead singer, FOUR HUNDRED MILLION beautiful 22 year-old girls, and a lot of Amber Bock. And ends with me getting drunk in a Motel 6, jacking off to Christian television. Remind me to tell it all sometime.
By the way, the temp agency got me my check, but sent me to a job where no boss showed up. I transferred to the office across town. Fuck King Asshole, that guy deserves seven layers of multi-colored shit on his head. The other office seems (God, I hope, anyway) to have their shit together better, and I start ANOTHER new job Monday. Luckilly, I paid for the rest of this month's rent and can now pay for July's when I get back home this afternoon. So that's good.
Jukka, you sexy Finn, great to hear from you!
Love,
Dougie
A Day In The Fuckin' Life
06.15.05 (7:13 pm) [edit]6:05AM Wake up, 40 minutes ahead of the alarm. Lay there and think about how it's going to be a great day, because I'm going to call the apartment and see about moving in tonight instead of Friday. Ahhh, a sweet day it will be...
What a fucking MORON I am.
6:45AM Finally get myself moving and ready for work, where I look forward to finishing the ridiculous job (auto parts store) from the day before, where some idiot set up a display completely wrong and I had to put it back in the right order, only to discover when I was mostly done that *I* had fucked up and not noticed that the display was missing a SHELF, which kinda throws a wrench in things, especially when you have to take down all the shit you just spent three hours doing and move fucking shelves around to make room for the new one. I spent ten minutes hiding in the bathroom praying to the Shit Fairy to deliver me from the massive attack of bipolar emotional insanity that came down on my head like 6000 pounds of auto paint. But at 6:45 this moring, I was actually looking forward to the day. What a fucking MORON I am.
7:50AM Pull into work blasting Black Sabbath's Sabotage. SUCK ME!
8:00AM Start fighting with shelves of paint.
10:15AM Call the apartment. Everything's set, I can move in tonight. All I gotta do is pick up my check at the temp agenecy, cash it, and get down there to pick up the keys. Oh, if it were actually so...
11:00AM Finish a three hour job after seven total hours of work. Massively impressed with myself, I stand there and LOOK at the paint display for five minutes before remembering that yeah, there's other jobs here too.
11:45AM Leave for lunch. Eat shit at Taco Bell, drive to the temp agency to pick up the check.
11:55AM Get in line for my check
11:58AM Only to find out there IS no check. It's not there. After King Asshole (my new name for the boss) looks into it, he finds out that my check is at the Cincinnati office. He might have it overnighted in for tomorrow, but it might not be until Friday. I explain that I'm moving into my apartment TONIGHT, the woman is even changing the lease around - probably as we speak - and I'm supposed to be there in about five hours. King Asshole gives me some lame reassurance and I leave.
12:05PM King Asshole calls me on the cell. It will be Friday, he can drop it off at the job site (the auto parts gig ends today, I start a new one tomorrow) and he tells me the amount of the check. I'm so rattled that the amount he gives me only manages to swirl around inside my head like a bad fart. I ask permission to leave the auto parts gig early. I need to come up with at least $300 in five hours. I've already called the apartment back and nobody answered.
12:10PM I get back to the auto parts store and let them know what happened. They are totally cool, and I wish I was still working for them, especially given the horrific hours I'll be starting tomorrow. Of course, overtime will be good since I now have NO MONEY.
12:20PM I stop at Jiffy Lube and get the fifth oil change I've had in three months.
12:45PM I drop the time sheet from the auto parts place back at the temp agency. King Asshole shows about as much human kindness as Nixon at an acid party. I start putting two and two together on the check amount he'd told me. Uh, can you look into this? It sounds wrong. He claims it's right, then we go back into the office. I figure I'm at least $60 short and I haven't even SEEN this fucking check. He pulls it up on the computer. "You got paid for 24 hours. 16 at the auto parts store, 8 at the fan factory." Uh, I didn't work 8 at the fan factory. I worked 16. Remember? You called me right after I left the second day to say they stopped the assingment, and never gave me a coherent reason for that? Then I didn't work Wednesday but you had the auto parts gig for me Thursday? Uh, I worked 16 hours. "I'll look into it." Good. Because I need to leave now before my brain eats itself.
1:00PM Call the apartment. Nobody there. Call my mother. Nobody there. Call to Jesus. Nobody there.
1:05PM Driving down I-465, I ask Jesus to send down a flood of alcohol to rain upon my personage.
1:06PM I ask again.
1:07PM I ask again, more politely this time, with special mention of how cool it was that he got toasted for my sins, which are, of course, legion.
1:08PM Seeing no clouds of rum in the sky, I tell Jesus to go hang a cross, I'll get the fucking booze myself. Cheap bastard.
1:20PM I do just that.
1:30PM Mother still not home. Apartment still no answering. I drive to an ATM
1:45PM I try to pull money from the ATM. Nothing. I try again. Nothing. I drive to another ATM. Nothing. It's getting dark now, and I really need that rum, but I still have driving to do.
2:00PM Go back to my friend's house where I've been staying. The door is locked. Call Mom and the apartment again. No answer. Drive some more.
2:30PM Start driving north, take a wrong turn and start driving south. Unable to think. Want rum and Twizzlers in a bad way. Sugar, I need sugar. Like a junkie needs smack. I try basic math in my head and it takes 4 times longer to do it as it should, mabye 5. Maybe 47, I can't add. I'm shaking at this point.
2:45PM Finally get the apartment. She'll wait until Friday, and of course, that's when it was supposed to be anyway. I ask why the rent for the next couple weeks is about $100 more than I thought it should be. She says there's a move-in charge. Funny, I didn't know about that even though we've been talking for over two weeks. I'd say something, but my deposit was so little that I figure what the fuck. At this point, I wonder how long it will be before I'm sucking cock to pay rent.
2:50PM Call King Asshole. The extra 8 hours is taken care of, he'll have the check to me on Friday. He says "I told you I'd take care of you." Yeah, and you also told me you'd have me a job in no time but took a week and a half. You also told me you'd be out golfing on Memorial Day in such a way as to suggest that no degenerate temp is worthy of your time. Fuck you in the ass, you annoying prick.
2:55PM Do a run-down in my head of everything that's gone wrong in the past couple weeks with the temp agency. I show up and do paperwork, only to be sent to a different office, for no apparant reason. I sit at the other office for THREE HOURS waiting to be paid some attention to while the girl is on the phone giving all the jobs away. Excuse me miss, you really are the cutest Latino girl I've seen in my life, but I'm a white guy in need of a job. I realize that it's quite easy to mistake a fat guy with hair all over the place for a WALL, but could you give me some time?
Then I spend over a week calling these fuckers four times a day waiting for work. It gets desparate. Finally, after a horrific day in which I nearly drove into a brick wall, I find out I have a job.
That job lasts two days, though it was supposed to be "long-term". I'm called right after leaving and told they're stopping the assignment. A clear reason is never given. I don't know when I'm working next. The next day I end up doing genealogy, but at least the auto parts gig comes in. It was supposed to be two days and ended up being five, but not until after I get another long-term job promised, then have the day moved back, and I don't know WHEN I'm working or not. It's totally day-to-day.
Then all this other shit. This agency is based in Cincinnati, and the offices down there NEVER exhibited this level of incompetence or lack of concern for an employee. I figure King Asshole needs to die.
3:10PM Heading north (having missed the first exit I was going to get off on) I begin screaming my head off. Old anger resurfaces next to the new, and for ten minutes, I'm completely insane, but I somehow keep it on the road.
3:20PM Leaving the Noblesville area, my head clears. I remember how I felt a few nights ago at the Keneally concert. I start laughing uncontrollably, and nearly drive off the road and into the White River from the extreme level of psychotic glee in my little black heart.
3:25PM Remember just how bipolar I really am.
3:30PM Mom still isn't home.
4:10PM Arrive in Marion. Nobody home. I come in and get a drink, fuck off on the computer for a few minutes. Call Grandma, who hasn't heard from Mom in three days. Begin to worry, because Mom has just found out she has carpal tunnel syndrome, and needs surgery. A couple nights ago she could barely hold the phone. Hmmm. Where IS she?
4:50PM Drive out to where Dad works, figuring nothing is really wrong, but wondering. Besides, I may need him in two days when King Asshole decides to go to the golf course rather than show up with my check.
5:05PM Very cute girl tells me Dad JUST left for dinner. I drive back home, he's not there. Well, fuck.
5:30PM After driving through Marion remembering just how shitty a place it is to find a truly good restaraunt that I'd want to eat at right now, I end up at Applebee's. I order fish and chips, a big Amber Bock, and sit with my copy of The Great Shark Hunt, reading about Hunter and Ralph Steadman trying to paint "Fuck The Pope" on the side of a boat at the America's Cup. Try really hard not to fall apart laughing in front of other paying customers.
5:50PM Call Mom. she's home. Fine. Been out doing errands all day, her hands hurt, but she's fine. I'll be home in half an hour.
6:05PM The waitress informs me that my credit card is declined. Oh fuck. I pay cash. What little I have.
6:15PM In a parking lot by the mall, I break the damn electronic bottle top off my Bacardi on the rear bumper of a Hertz truck (fucking Indiana stores) and have some. I smoke a Newport and blast some Eric Johnson.
6:45PM Arrive home. Call the credit card agency. Find out that the reason my card got shut down (I'd last used it to buy gas five hours ago) was because I asked for too much cash the first time (I'd forgotten or hadn't read this part) then had tried 8 more times to get cash. Well, yeah. I had. Seems kinda stupid now, but I was kinda psychotic at that point. After asking me some questions only me or my shrink would know (I'm impressed with their security measures) he got it sorted out, and now I have a credit card again. Come to think of it, this might not be a good thing...
8:07PM I'm done now. God DAMN it's been a weird day. I'm about to drive back to Indy to get up at 5:45AM for the new job tomorrow.
Yours In Christ,
Dougie
Lookin' For Love In All The Wrong Republicans
06.07.05 (7:54 pm) [edit]I'm in NO hurry for a serious relationship again, certainly not this soon after the divorce, but hey, I'm also certainly not looking forward to sitting alone in an apartment for the rest of my life, and I certainly would not want my ex to think I wouldn't understand HER desire not to be alone either, so I cooked up a bit of a profile on the Onion's personal pages. I also did one for match.com, but that place seems to be infested with WAY too many women into Jesus.
Here's part of my Onion profile:
Last great book I read
Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson, one of the true great Americans.
Most humbling moment
Are you SURE you want to know how I got three stitches just below my left eye?
Favorite on-screen sex scene
Nearly anything with Tiffany Mynx. OK, I like porn. Hope that's not a problem.
Celebrity I resemble most
Sting. If you hit him really, really hard with a couple WMDs. Actually, I look a lot like Jack Black.
Best or worst lie I've ever told
"I didn't mean to turn you on."
If I could be anywhere at the moment
Making passionate love to a beautiful, intelligent, and deeply twisted woman who is deranged enough to like me too.
Song or album that puts me in the mood
Frank Zappa, One Size Fits All
The five items I can't live without
My unit. My ludicrous CD collection. My lithium. My daughter. My sense of humour.
Fill in the blanks
A brain is sexy;
A sense of humour is sexier
In my bedroom, you'll find
Me. Tied up with the hamsters ready and...uh...maybe we should talks about this later...
WHY YOU SHOULD GET TO KNOW ME
Because I most certainly will ruin your life in a way that
no other man possibly can.
MORE ABOUT WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR
Someone who has a warped sense of humour, hates Bush a tenth as much as I do, likes weird music and art, understands why I despise religion so much, needs my hot blubbery lovin' at least seven times a day, and who won't get in the way of my relationship with my daughter, who is two hours away and I really am stupid for not being closer to her. OK, the bit about the hot blubbery lovin' is exaggerated, I grant you. Oh yeah, if you can listen to Bill Hicks bootlegs with me while drinking stout beer and eating chorizo, you might make me rethink my decision to never marry again.
So, ya think they'll be lining up for me, or what?
Dougie
Why I Should Try A Pseudo-Career In Stand-Up
06.06.05 (6:38 pm) [edit]I bought a small voice recorder recently to capture my better thoughts as they came, and I've come up with many. I've been thinking (well, I've been thinking for the past few years, actually) about trying my hand at stand-up comedy. Frankly, I think I'm a funny sonofabitch and don't really care who thinks otherwise.
But I've just sat down and realized that I fit all the criterion for this noble profession. And you know what they are:
1.) I grew up in a constricted, religious environment.
2.) I despise authority.
3.) I'm a failure with women, as evidenced by one terribly fucked-up relationship in my 20s and a divorce in my 30s.
4.) I'm an alcoholic.
5.) I like to say "fuck" a lot.
So, remember to tip yer waitress! I think I'll be a natural, don't you? I'm slowly hammering some shit to try out onstage at some point, fuck knows when. But it'll happen eventually.
The final divorce hearing was last week. Don't feel inclined to write about it now, but it went very well and I think Sheryl and I both came out with what we needed.
Dougie
Something Tells Me I'm Into Something Good
06.01.05 (11:20 am) [edit]Oh fuck, I'm singing along with Herman's Hermits songs now...
Just got two calls. The apartment I wanted on the SE end of Indianapolis will be ready for me to move into on the 13th. Low deposit, a little too much for rent, but about as good as it'll get if I'm going to live in that area. It's a nice place, not big but not too small, and is less than 10 minutes from I-74, which will take me back to see Katie in Cincy quicker.
The other call was from a music store in Greenwood, not far away. I've been dropping resumes like a lunatic the past few days hoping for a teaching gig. I might just have one. I'm going in Sunday to talk to the guy, and I might have to wait a few weeks or more, but he's talking about starting me with 50 students, which would be WONDERFUL. That right there will solve most of my current financial worries, and add in the two bands I'm playing with, and I'll finally be making some pretty good money playing/teaching music. I don't know that it'll happen just yet, but it looks good.
The downside to this is that I'm still semi-fucked at this moment, having trusted the temp agency to get me a job that hasn't happened yet. I've been here just short of 2 weeks and I had expected to slide right into SOME kind of job immediately. Didn't happen. So today I'll go back down by the apartment and just randomly pick shitty places to look for work. I'd done a little of that already, so I'll check back in on those places. It's a really weird position to be in right now, but I'm trying to remain optomistic.
I wasn't yesterday. I was convinced I was utterly fucked, and I was fighting some serious depression. It's not happened as often in the past month or so, but one full day of my inner chemistry being fucked with and I'm a goddamn basket case.
Listening to lots of XTC and Keneally. Looking forward to seeing Mikey next week.
Played two gigs with two bands this past weekend. Fuck, I wish I could do it like that every week. Played in Elwood. Indiana and was paid absurdly well for it. Slept maybe an hour and a half and drove to get Katie. Had a wonderful day with her, mostly at the Cincinnati Museum Center. Dropped her off and went straight to the next gig, north of Lawrenceburg, Indiana. Paid rather well for that. One more gig like that a week every week and I could call it a living. Too bad I'll usually not be playing quite this much. But it's good to play bass again, good to be the cushion between drums and guitars, good to hold a groove and feel the strings. I've had some difficulty with my wrists in recent years, but I got through fine and I mostly kept things simple, playing less than I usually would, but playing those fewer notes better than I likely would have 15 years ago when I wanted to be The Fuckin' Prog Bass Machine.
While dropping resumes around yesterday, I stopped at a music store on the north end of town that I'd already been to. The guy looked my resume over and said "Oh, I see you went to Indiana Wesleyan University. Are you a Christian?"
What a weird, utterly wrong and inappropriate thing to ask. The WAY he asked it was particularly creepy.
"I don't know that I want to answer that question."
"Why not?"
Because you're an ASSFUCK??? How dare you press this topic, you fucking idiot!
"No, I'm not. Is that a problem?"
"Oh, noooo! Not at all!"
I think it is, asswipe. I think you just overstepped your bounds in a big fucking way, motherfucker. I'm not walking in that goddamn place again. Between the outright illegality of it and the complete awkwardness involved, I'm surprised that cocksucker has been in business as long as he has. I highly doubt I'm the first person to hear that question. Well, fuck you. I'm not a Christian. I worship Shub-Niggurath, The Goat With A Thousand Young. In fact, the sacrifice is happening tonight down by the river and I've got some puppies to behead for the big barbecue afterwards. Got a problem with that, shitface? Here, let me borrow a pen and I'll draw 666 on my forehead for you. Satisfied?
Yeah, I love people.
Dougie
-----------
Later...
Well, spank my ass bright red with leftover fettucine and call me a late-for-the-gang-bang bitch. After a week and a half, the temp agency has a job for me. Starting Monday. Not great pay, but the same as the job in Cincy they had for me a few weeks ago, and better than any of the other shit I'm likely to find anytime soon. It's on the exact opposite end of town from where I want to be, but fuck it, it's a temp agency. If it doesn't work, I can hang onto it until they find something else.
And thinking about this teaching gig makes me more and more wet. If I can work the schedule right, I can make a HELL of a lot more money than I ever have. I don't want to get too excited about it in case it doesn't happen, but even the 50 students he's talking about giving me are enough to make things a lot easier on me. Maybe I can finally start paying a few people back for the kind things they've done for me lately. I really hope this works, It'll make all the shit of the last few months worth it and I won't have to be far from Katie. That's the main thing. Staying as close as I can to Katie while doing the stuff I need to do for myself. There's compromises on both ends, but if this all goes well, I'll be more than able to live with them.
To think this is happening for me in Indiana. Wow. Fuckin' weird, eh?
Found a Mexican place nearby that has carnitas. Now THAT is a great way to top off a great day.
Dougie