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It's good to know not all our troops are over there playing Arab Jenga. Some of them are bringing the goodness of the west to the children of Iraq. Like the good news about this year's Lebowski Fest held in Louisville, KY on June 19th, 2004. I, for one, can't wait for the New York City version on August 14th.
Boy am I pissed. I woke up at 6 am today to meet a friend of mine at Rockefeller Center for the Today Show's Jimmy Buffet performance. My friend is a big fan, and he's done me a lot of generous favors lately. And yesterday was his birthday. So there I go. I am not necessarily a fan of Mr. Buffet's, though I do love that Margaritaville. And he didn't play it. What the fuck, Jimmy Buffet? I mean, if I'm going to wake my ass up at 6am, the least your old, white ass can do is play Margaritaville, your only good song. And I don't want to hear it from any of you very lame, very Republican, very fratboyish parrot heads. Cheeseburger in Paradise is not a good song. And I can't even name any of the others since they all suck, too.
All I have to say is, Jimmy Buffet, you're good for one song. The name of your restaurant is not Cheesburgers in Paradise. It's Margaritaville. And don't you forget it.
P.S. God--where the fuck was the sun?
And article declaring Margaritaville represents Jimmy at his most insightful
My creative director just called from downstairs to say that our block is surrounded by cops with big guns and armored cars.
He said, "We're all gonna die, but first, can I see those layouts?"
In keeping with our dirty old lady theme, it seems I'm not the only one noticing the wiles of young Willies. Maccers weighs in on the topic:
Now that I am an aged, drooling Dorien Green from Birds of a Feather, I often find my hands irresistibly drawn to the perfect apples that are the butt cheeks of a certain NY bartender who is five years my junior.
from Is it so wrong?, at Maccers
This morning I took a sip of my iced coffee and noticed a sharp pain when the straw poked a newly sensitive spot on my tongue. I thought nothing of it until about an hour later when my partner in crime, I mean work, called to say she's not coming in today because of a sudden horrible viral infection that has resulted in a high fever and cold sores throughout the inside of her mouth and throat. Now before you say what you're thinking, you should know that I actually suffered from this very affliction back when I was about 7 years old and I can tell you there were no shenanigans going on for me at that tender age. No creepy uncles or anything, don't worry. Apparently this sort of infection can happen from sharing a glass or whatever. Well, you can imagine that my thoughts went immediately from my own memories of the horrific pain and weeks of eating nothing but cold soup and oatmeal to the ouchie I felt on my tongue this morning. Just then, my partner says, "The doctor says it's very contagious." And then I remember I let her taste my raspberry bellini Friday night at Meet. Shitbucket.
Am drinking fluids rapidly.
Will keep you posted.
Defending Reagan, Forgetting Her Job , from Chicago Reader, via Choire's Julie Staley: As Nasty As She Wants To Be
