Ok. I'm neither in gaol or goal. Thank you everyone for contacting me concerned, esp. regarding advice on how to throw a birthday party while incarcerated. Smuggling in silly-string is definitely a no-no then... esp. if in the inappropriate colour. I will also take the tooth-removal idea into serious consideration. I believe the method with which I will make myself indispensible will be by starting a line men's cosmetic products, 'Clam-Digger's Ochre? With that do-rag? Are you crazy?' As for goals... I postponed as many as plenty to plenty-five of them today, including not blogging. But allow me to explain: I needed to rebuff several implications that I make shit up all the time.
1) Gerbils on A Plane... Ok. So I did exaggerate the ferocity of the species: it was only a hamster.
2) I tripped Heath Ledger... It was more the fact that he stepped on my foot and stumbled. He was walking backwards through a gaggle of goggling gigglers (with enough collective ego to suck-start a bulldozer) shocked as he was that they were laughing. I am a sympathetic laugher (especially when the reason is absurd,) as is Heath, so he was laughing and curious as to what the gaggle was laughing about (his presence) so wheeled to face them, but continued walking in the original direction. There wasn't much space (we were at the Miami; Steve and I'd infiltrated the I'm Not There unofficial wrap party) and so he stepped on my foot and stumbled whilst I was asking him why the crowd were so tickled. He said he didn't know. I was too drunk to be incensed that he didn't apologize. Later we spoke briefly about CGI sheep in Brokeback. At that point, Heath had the craziest case of the pasties; that was the part that really made my night.
3) Erm, I'm sure I haven't lied a lot more than this... please contact me about other times I haven't lied...
11 comments:
Well, I'm glad to hear that you've come up with a way to make yourself indispensible, but my question is that if you aren't in gaol, why don't you put that plan into action anyways. I've been to Montreal...i've lived in Montreal, and while the women are beautiful, I think the men could actually use some of the product of which you speak.
And thank you for the Heath story...that made me laugh.
Pasties you say...
DId you mean 'craziest case of the pasties' to mean a crate of glamorous nip-ornaments or did you actually mean to write 'craziest case of the patsies', as in Brokeback redux. Either way, I am afeared on your behalf.
nip-ornaments? nip-ples? nip-ponese? pasties... i was trolling that night for 'dirt' on the Ledge, and what turned up were these observations: he feels more comfortable talking to women; he was the most questionably dressed fellow there (i felt almost too swampy, until he turned up looking like a mid-forest salt-lick); he got trashed; he smokes (but doesn't carry a lighter); his face tends to go green around 1.20 am; he gets mysterious bouts of cotton mouth around 1.22; a white particulate tends to crystalize around his nostrils at intermittent sections of the night... it must've been the icing sugar from the over-sized Danish pastie he likely ate earlier...
Haha, you a funny guy.
Someone brought their cat on the plane back from France, isn't that weird? I thought that was illegal? It sure was annoying though, meow meow!
The meowing was far more painful for the owner than it was for you...you can't stop them...it's like a crying child. It's really embarrassing...and all you can do is pray that they fall asleep.
I have to jump in here on the issue of: should I dedicate the rest of my life to creating a virus that will exterminate the entire population of domesticated felines? What a hero I'd be! I can't believe that humans allow themselves to carry cats on a plane. This is NOT comparable to a crying baby, because there is the possibility that a crying baby will come to contribute meaningfully to this world at some point in their lifetime, and so people are willing to just roll with the piercing screams while decending through the stratosphere. (And you're not allowed to kill humans with a shovel). Cats don't deserve this allowance because they are meowing lenky slinky skanky shitballs. I'm sure you were embarassed about having a meowing lenky slinky skanky shitball on the plane, but apparently not embarassed enough because you presume that YOU were the one most disturbed by there being a meowing lenky slinky skanky shitball on the plane. Why? Did no one tell you that the cat was annoying them? Death to all cats!!! (Except for the one really fat and cute one that lives next door to me and whose name is Frank).
i know a fat next-door neighbour cat too. he's notorious for kibble-driven B&Es. he has a fetish for naked feet (lying supine beneath them in apparent ecstasy) and his name is Ziggy. his human wards introduced him as 'potentially retarded', so i took an immediate shine to him. he's also the only cat i've met who, after spending an energy-drink fueled early-morning training him to bark, barked.
a few weeks ago, when my laundry was really dirty, i went to bed only to witness a cat, that had somehow spontaneously materialized in my room, chewing on a pair of my pants. how the hell do cats do that? imagine the shock to've found a child in my room at 3am, eating my dirties! that's all a hollywood-adapted japanese horror movie needs in the way of plot these days..
i'm with jordan: i do not believe that cats and children should be thought of as cross-identifiable... here's a quick list of reasons why:
- cats are shitballs
Jordan, do you ever pause to think that perhaps you might not know what you're talking about before you launch into an insulting assault against your supposed friend??
You've made a number of presumptions that paint me, in my opinion, as a selfish, negligent, superficial twit. And you are incorrect in those presumptions. And you've also insulted something that is very important to me and that is representative of far more than the domesticated feline that so clearly repulses you.
I respect your right to your opinion, however I would hope that you would attempt to phrase it in a way that is less disrespectful, especially when you do not have all of the facts. I certainly make an attempt to extend that courtesy to you and believe I have earned the right to the same...and if not, then perhaps that is an issue best addressed off line.
This afternoon I enjoyed a barbeque with my friend Frank the cat. We smoked a J and had steak (he got some of the fatty bits because I've been having some weight problems since my surgery and have developed a nice pad of cellulite in my lower back region...and Frank's so far gone that he doesn't seem to give a shit). Anyways, I explained him the sitch and, while he agrees that 99.99% of cats are worthless shitbags, he's against my venture to coevolve FLV (feline leukemia virus) with HIV, though I expect that he's in it for self-preservation. I told him about my supposed friend who carries cats on a plane, and it freaked him right the fuck out. He's now convinced that he's going to get a phone call from Samuel L. Jackson telling him all about it. Anyways, I told him that it made me angry that people bring cats on the plane, and, no shit, this is exactly what he said:
"Why is it that anger is so socially taboo? Isn't it just as legitimate as the fuzzier emotions? I mean, a body can stands what it can stands until it can stands no more. And then maybe anger is appropriate or even therapeutic."
That Frank is certainly one wise meowing lenky slinky skanky shitball, eh?
speaking of domesticated animals--did i ever tell you about the time i was staying at the in-laws' and phyllis, the 70-year-old arthritis-ridden scottish terrier, ate the crotches out of all my dirty undies?!
a couple of important details: Phyllis is a ten-year-old scottish terrier--equivalent to a 70-year-old grandma. she's small, she's black, she can't crawl up the stairs by herself. but with the smell of dirty undies luring her on, she managed to drag her way up the stairs, into the guest bedroom, and amongst 4 pairs of dirty undies, sitting in a pile of dirty clothes. she didn't eat the crotches out of any of the clean underwear, mind you-- just the dirty ones. if phyllis had had any puppies, she would now be a grandma. so, basically a 70-year-old grandma hobbled into the guest room, sniffed out the dirty undies from the clean ones, and ate the crotches. broke the underwear in half. phyllis has done this before.
when the mother-in-law confronted phyllis about her taste for human female secretions, she said she had "the craziest case of the pasties". poor pasty pubic phyllis.
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