Friday, April 29, 2005

please send me some money After I found out that I could have a giant billboard (of myself) digitally printed for a dollar a square foot, I was like:  I must scrimp and save and put away cash with a miserly obsession so I can make this dream (of a full sized 14'x 48' billboard of myself as an action hero) a reality. But in the meantime, I don't even have this month's bills paid off, and rent is due--holy shit--monday!  ($900). So what do I do?  Last night I blow a hundred bucks on dinner and drinks (mostly drinks).  And today I spend another sixty on a snappy party shirt. Anyway, could somebody out there please send me some money?  I'd like a thousand dollars at least, but if you can only afford to send $500, or $100, that would be a start. (Is that how fundraising works?  Oh yeah, I'll donate a small percentage to an organization that helps some sort of unfortunate, grubby people). 5:51:25 PM    comment [] a hand job is out of the question Bob Bandit had a pretty good (mini) story the other day: He was going to visit his parents at their condo, driving his blue Hummer EXT with the spinning rims.  I guess his parents' condo is so uptight with all sorts of rules that they don't allow any kind of trucks on the property, not even Hummers.  (Which seems really weird since most rich people drive them these days). But anyway, Bob pulled up to the guard gate and the security guard lady came out and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't allow Hummers in here." Without a second's thought or hesitation, Bob says, "Then I guess a hand job is out of the question." The lady was just kind of stunned by that, so Bob goes, "don't worry about it, honey.  I'm just going to see my parents, so lift that stick out of my way." With that, the security lady opened the gate and let him in. 5:02:36 PM    comment [] mad dogs This is me and Jersey Girl boozing it up at Mad Dogs and Englishmen. The frozen moment that the camera caught makes Jersey Girl look like a total lush (but really she's not). In fact, I've never seen her get stumbly, or slurry, or sloppy.  She can pour glass after glass after glass (of Vodka tonics) down that svelt little figure of hers and she never really seems drunk. I, on the otherhand, start fumbling my words after three beers.  Then I start getting all excited and blabbery, and these stupid ideas start popping into my head. Like yesterday, this '58 Corvette kind of blocked me into my parking space by the bar.  (I mean, it was just slightly difficult to manuever out.  It should have been no big deal, but I started getting all angry, and I found myself with these very powerful impulses to grab a garbage can and pour all the contents into the open topped vette.  But my mantra for this year is: no five-oh in oh-five; no five-oh in oh-five, etc. 4:55:24 PM    comment []

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