These are posts that will go in the blog, under the slider
My cat has stopped taking her Prozac.
Just within the past three days after successfully consuming her soft Whisker Lickins (with a half tab of Prozac hidden inside) for months, she has lost all interest in eating the traet. This is not good because when she’s off her meds, she pees. Usually she pees on my bed.
The first thing I do when I know someone is coming over to my place is check the bathrooms. For unflushed pee.
I’ve written earlier about how I talk to my friends on my phone whilst using the W.C. Out of respect I don’t flush during a call. I’m not an animal, for God’s sake. When one of my buddies is crying because of Grandma’s gout, that is not the time for a double flusher. But often the call goes longer than my dirty business, so I end up leaving the bathroom and walking into the bedroom to stare at myself in the full length mirror. And then I forget to go back after the call and destroy the nonsense.
Two days ago I’ve wrote about how awesome it feels to have those dental x-ray lead aprons draped over you in the chair. Many of you responded and said you felt exactly the same. Others said that I’m a weirdo with a major personality disorder. And even a few questioned why we call dentists Doctor. I mean, they didn’t go to medical school, right?
Yesterday I posted about how get extreme pleasure from those heavy dental aprons they put on you during x-rays. I looked into buying one last night, but the really good ones are a few hundred dollars.
Did I really want to blow a few hundred bucks on a lead apron? Seems like an expensive experiment. I mean, I only have had that thing on me for three minutes at a time. Maybe at minute four it starts to feel constricting and scary. Who knows?
I wrote on the social networks this morning…
This is a very common thing apparently for people with sensory processing disorder. So I threw it up wondering if I was the only one of my friends and readers. I don’t think loving the feeling of heavy weighted aprons full of lead on my chest is weird – I mean I’m not Temple Grandin squatting in that hug machine she built. That chick’s nuts!
Here’s a few tracks recorded very poorly from our show last weekend. As you listen please try to remember that we try to use our eyes to make love to the audience, which doesn’t come through in the recordings.
We also use our genitals to make love to the audience, but that’s for after the show. Zing!
This morning at 8:38am CST, some piece of shit hacked into my server and broke a bunch of stuff on this site. I tracked the ip address to Poland.
What is broken is every single link on the site.
While I attempt to get this fixed, please bear with me.
In the last post I wrote about how my girlfriend flew in and I showed up at the wrong airport. Our band was scheduled to go on stage soon after that, and she had to take the subway with her luggage to the club. Very romantic.
Last year I bought a Rivera amp from the 80s. I always wanted an amp that I would never need to replace. This was an expensive purchase. Next to my car it’s probably the most valuable thing I own.
Last Friday, reader-turned-girlfriend Jessica flew in from Atlanta to spend the weekend. No, she’s not super keen on President’s Day; she does love herself some Rutherford B. Hayes, however.
I would like to formally announce that is my first semicolon ever used on this website. It makes me happy to show off.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
