But like a having Danny Devito AND Arnold Schwarzenegger…you know something good is coming. The magazine is shaping up nicely, albeit massively behind schedule. Absolutely everything is taking 100% longer than I had anticipated, but I’m gonna dig my heels in and refuse to rush anything. Anyway, can’t talk, tons to do, catch you on the flipside.
More backed up than Pearson…Again, I hate to get redundant but I will once again apologize for the lack of postage…4 days, wow. I thought I kicked the flu but like Rocky that shit just switched to southpaw and Drago’d my ass, and I’ve been Drag-ging my ass since. Everything has been postponed, which blows but I’m getting back on the horse. Really wanted to have something live by 11/11/09…doesn’t look like thats possible in any way but I’m working on a band aid solution to meet the deadline.
I feel bad about being a downer with the flu, so to make it up to you here’s one of Big D’s favourite clips
80% not even 50%. Fuck what I said about feeling good this morning, somewhere around 2 pm my body threw a temper tantrum. I got as far as coffee. It started with my eyes which, having been in a dim lit room for 2 days, decided they didn’t like the sun and decided to pass that message along to my brain by way of a intense throbbing. Then my skin decided to join the party by rejecting any kind of temperature I gave it. Hot = cold plus sweating. Cold = cold plus sweating. Lukewarm= you get the idea. As a last ditch effort to get me back home my bones decided that they enjoyed vibrating, making me look epileptic, and causing me to nearly run over an old lady. Thus, I have reluctantly been in bed all day.
*Also against my manhood’s wishes I had a bath on the recommandation of a woman…It was (surprisingly) a good time. Didn’t rub one out for obvious reasons but still good. So I’d like to give a shout out to women… The last time a man did tried something new on his own, boogers became a snack. So thanks, you’re all beautiful and smarter than your social status would dictate.
Also, I’m contemplating taking a mulligan for the sick days, which would push the launch of the magazine to friday the 13th (spooky noises)…If any of my 30 loyal readers object, please submit any disgruntalment in writing.
On the subject of hecklers I thought I would post one of my favourite clip of Jamie Foxx as a heckler…
For the first time in what feels like weeks (see. two days) I don’t feel like my body has gone twelve with Tyson. The nagging cough remains, but the body aches are gone, so I’m going to declare myself operational at 80%. Which means I can get back to business (emoticon with the party hat and noise maker).
There are only two good things that come out of being sick:
#1) It forces you to appreciate the health you would otherwise take for granted.
#2) You get time to catch up on your Joe Rogan.
If anyone out there thinks Joe Rogan is just the handy man from NewsRadio or the voice of the UFC or the Fear Factor dude, I strongly recommend you take a look at this website. Dude is a killer stand up comic, and a unique blend of humble and opinionated.
More than anything though, he loves stand up and protects it passionately. Youtube him jumping on stage at a Carlos Mencia show and calling him out on stealing jokes.
For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I got out of bed (this is where the idiocy begins) and smoked a onepaper in between hacking up a lung and praying for my maker to just come take me already.
It was probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.
To make matters worse, and in an effort to justify my habit, I actually googled “smoking marijuana when you have the flu”. Was I really expecting anything less than “Pot cures everything, including cancer!!!” from stoners??? Well, no…I knew that smoking (anything, let alone pot) while having a respiratory tract infection was an awful idea but I wanted to believe. So badly. I tricked myself into believing that 420magazine.com’s forum was a credible source for finding out if smoking pot helps aid flu like symptoms, blazed, and spent the next hour contorting my face in an effort to prevent my head from imploding.
So for the record, let it be said, I am an asshole, I hate my body, and if anyone has a rapist van and a promise of candy, I am easily tricked.
Sidenote: World Series victories in HD = amazing. Just saying.
I just bought Neil Young’s “Harvest” for $8 at HMV. I think its awesome that they do this (see. 2/$25) to help people afford music that has staying power and a little better substance. If you notice most Cd’s that are considered a “good listen”, assuming they’re not new or indie, are discounted at the big box stores. Awesome.
If I’m mentally drained I’ll do one of two things: Go to music or Go to books. It’s incredible how many people have offered an idea to the world. Inspiring even. And most, being paid professionals that they are, have something to say. Some, however, do not…
Which brings us to this: I’m leafing through Neil Young’s body of work and looming just above eyesight is this:
Ruined my day, possibly life.
Physicists are always preaching about the how every action has an equal and opposite reaction…or something along those lines (I only got as far as first year uni). But I’m wondering if this theory doesn’t hold true for writers/entertainers. It seems like for every great musician or writer or philosopher (etc, etc) pushing the proverbial envelope of their field, there is a piece of shit bringing the entire field down. That little scamp with his tuft of messy hair, radically angled hat and peace signs is exhibit A. With the exception of being a cash grab for money hungry record execs ready to rob prepubescent teenage girls of their pocket money, what is Justin Bieber (thank you muchmusic) contributing to the world of music?
Squadosh. Fucking nothing. Yet there he is eye fucking me while I’m trying to buy some Uncle Neil and I’m caught between a rock and hard place…
Does this little homo make me love Neil more or music less?
Exhibit B.
No, Justin, I’ll tell YOU one time…quit.
Ps. The answer is both.
Pps. I’m just jealous that my youtube video doesn’t have 12,000,000 hits. (For the record: 433 hits)
Jb (the younger equivalent of Big D) forgot his xbox when he went back to school this week. I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been really busy lately writing and photoshopping and trying to make sure I have the magazine launched by next week (one week to go, still really overwhelmed), but when Big D throws down a FIFA 10 challenge, you accept. Now, I haven’t played FIFA since controllers decided they need an extra 12 buttons but Big D’s exact words were something along the lines of “How about I take your pussy ass to school…” So I played.
[The outcome is irrelevant (mostly b/c I got my ass handed to me in a Manchester Derby).]
I forget sometimes how cool it is to have someone to call you a “bitch ass mother fucker” and mean it in a loving way. Playing brought me right back to the days of playing SNES for a weekend, where series were best of 101 and controllers more often than not got abused. Video games have a way of bringing that love/hate relationship out of brothers. You never want to lose to your brother, and whether you want to admit it or not a quick game of FIFA will bring the competitive juices to a boil. The older I get the less its lost on me how lucky I am to have two brothers (and a beautiful sister), I mean we certainly don’t always get along, but its like having built in friends, “well this house comes with a washer/dryer, all stainless steel kitchen appliances, and two goof balls to play video games with if you’re bored”
Long story short when I get this magazine off the ground I’m starting dynasty mode.
Back to work.
NYC update: thinking about delaying the trip till sunday/monday…If the Yanks lose the series I don’t want to be caught in a riot, and conversely if the Yanks win the series I…also, don’t want to be caught in a riot. Seriously though, hotels are mad expensive during a championship run.
