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Christina and IREADING:
 American Gods: Author's Preferred Text by Neil Gaiman WATCHING:
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Sunday, April 30, 2006
With apologies to the RIAA and with much love for Whiskey and the Kidney Stones As I type this I am listening to the new TOOL album and I have to say that it's one of the best things I've heard in the last five years. I realize the CD doesn't come out until Tuesday, but I'm an impatient motherfucker and couldn't help myself. So if Big Brother comes across this please relax. I'm really going to buy the record the day it comes out. Seriously. And since the packaging is so damned pretty, I might buy two. Now if only there was a new record by The Upwelling that I could listen to. (Pssst! Josh? New record? Wink wink.)  And while I'm on the subject of good music, please let me tell you all about the Gods of Rock that are Whiskey and the Kidney Stones. Who knew that the awe-inspiring human known as Adam Harrell would one day grow up to be the All-Knowing All-Powerful All-Inebriated frontman Whiskey Dixxx? All I remember was that this man used to play the drums (not very well) and that he was once addicted to McDonald's Shamrock Shakes. Now? Better than Jesus. Period. And so is the rest of band. There's Bobby D on bass (John Kirkeby--please see my November 28th, 2005 post for more on him), Billy Jaxxx on drums (Davey Jones), Dick Beaters on lead guitar (Derek), and Scrap Metal on rhythm guitar (Tony Miller).I had the pleasure, nay--the privilege--to see this band perform live last night and I was a bit shocked at how good they actually were. I mean, this is a band that writes songs about golden showers, sex with Martha Stewart, and kicking Christopher Reeves' ass. How can you take a band like this seriously? It's simple. They're genuine.  This band doesn't pretend to be anything else than what they are: a full-on drunk-rock band that's only interested in rocking your ass and making you smile while they do it. And they do it with a such finesse you'd swear these guys had been doing what they do for eons. Don't misunderstand me here. It's a mess on stage. But it's controlled chaos the likes of which I've never seen before. From out of nowhere Whiskey will start playing a cowbell or try and coax the female audience members to "show him some titties" or at the very least some "inner labia" (not one fulfilled his request--bitches). Halfway through the set someone brought the band a round of shots. So they toasted the crowd and then played three acts from their "rock opera" Stinky Hotel. But don't let the light-hearted nature of this band fool you. This isn't as gimmicky as you might expect. All of these guys are damned-good musicians. Kirkeby plays his bass like he sleeps with the damned thing (he's awesome), and Davey Jones lovingly beats the living shit out of his drum kit. Tony Miller completes the trifecta. Together they're a super-tight rhythm section. They should be. They've played together for the better part of a decade. And let's not forget the guitar stylings of Derek. Holy shit can that boy use a wah. Smooth.So the wife and I arrived a good 10 minutes before the band went on so I immediately went to the bar and ordered my usual poisons. A shot of Patron and and Guiness. After an age I got the Guiness, but my tequila was nowhere to be seen. Come to find out one of the bartenders had to go conjure and wrestle the Patron Demon to get a bottle of it (which took another several days somewhere in the space-time continuum that was The Stone Cellar's Bar). Anyway, Whiskey and the Kidney Stones were halfway through with 'Big Daddy' when I finally went back to the bar to see what progress had been made. As I am trying to scream over the band to the bartender, he simply places a GOBLET in front of me that's HALF FULL of that crystal clear yummy stuff that I love so much. I timidly picked it up, not sure that I was up to the challenge. I mean, how many shots was this? I looked at the bartender with a simple "are you insane?" look on my face. He countered with a rock-secret-devil-sign hand signal that I had no choice but to return in kind. What was I? A pussy? 'Hot Piss' played and I drank my goblet of tequila.  Needless to say I was drunk (fucking drunk) for the rest of the evening which probably enhanced the experience in seeing this band perform live. It did NOT, however, make the band that followed even remotely stomachable. They were called Animide and boy did they suck. Royally. The crowd must have thought so as well, because once Whiskey and the boys stopped playing, that place cleared out.I'd also like to say thanks to Laura and Brian Cleary for showing up. I didn't expect them to, but they did. And it was great to see them. I'm not so sure they thought it was great to see me, especially in my drunken and quite chatty state. I'm quite sure I didn't make a pass at Laura (it wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility) but I do think I scared them off nonetheless. Oh, and I had the pleasure of meeting John Kirkeby's current girlfriend, but she did not ask if she could practice her handjob technique on me (again, see my November 28th, 2005 post). But she was very cute. Thursday, April 06, 2006
 So this guy made a bet with his girlfriend that he could create a web page and get 2 million unique hits. If he won, she agreed--in writing--that she'd have a threesome with him and another woman (most probably because she thought he'd never succeed). If he lost he'd have to wear a shirt for a week saying he was an idiot. At first I thought this was rather amusing. But then I started getting really agitated about the whole thing. First, it sounds like something I would do and second, where does his girlfriend get off putting him through this exercise?The conversation should have gone something like this: Guy: You wanna have a threesome? Girl: Sure! Not only is his girlfriend straight (read: annoying), she's dangling the false possibility in her boyfriends' face. Remember Andrew Dice Clay? He once said that there was no such thing as bisexual. You either lick pussy, or you do not lick pussy. In other words, if this guy's girlfriend was into the idea and WANTED to do it, they'd have done it already. But when it comes right down to it, fuck that. The bitch should've been ready and willing to munch rug at a moment's notice. It's the year 2006, ladies! Don't you think it's time all of you learned how to kiss the cooter? I think that once that happens the world will be a better place. And I'm giving lessons. Who wants to sign up? |
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