Kitty

Have I told you about my cat?

I think I told you that I got one,
he's very... um.... strange.

First of all,
he likes to come into
the shower with me.

My bathroom door doesn't lock,
and he knows how to get in,
and every once in a while,
he will come jump up on the shower
ledge, and meow.

He wants to be picked up,
and held under the water.

I think that's pretty unusual for a cat,
but it keeps him from smelling like poop.

I started when my roommate
decided he needed a bath,
so she held him under the shower
with her, and apparently he's hooked.

He also likes to kiss,
he'll actually put his little
kitty lips up to yours
and give you a little kiss.

It's adorable.

Now, I know what you might
be thinking,
showering and making out
with a cat, that's just weird.

But it's so cute,
you'd do it, too.

Right now he's
locked in the closet,
because otherwise
he'd be jumping on
my keyboard while I try
to type.

Let's see....

What else?

Well,
in other news,
I think i'm getting meaner.

In shows lately,
I've really been
making fun of
people pretty hard.

the audience seems to love it,
and I'm cracking myself right up,
but every once in a while I feel a little bad.

Last week at Durty Nellies,
I.... well....here's some highlights:

(to the girl in the way too short black dress)
"you look like you just came from a slutty funeral"

(to the guy in the pale, pastel, green shirt)
"I'm sorry, I can't take requests from anyone
dressed like a marshmallow from Lucky Charms"

(to the guy in the way too tight, way too
stone washed jeans)
"hey... dude on the cell phone,
my Russian exchange student
from high school wants his pants back"

(to the man at the Skydiving concert in the fanny pack)
"I know that dude smokes weed, how else can you
possibly explain a fanny pack? Unless, he just feels
safer with a pouch, maybe he keeps a tiny parachute
in there just in case he trips and falls"

It's been mostly just making fun
of the way people are dressed,
which is hilarious to me,
because I wear the same
clothes every day, probably
to almost every show.

But, sometimes that's
all I have to go on.

All in all,
things are going well,
shows have been fun,
and life has been good,
and I'm getting....
a lot of pussy.

get it?

pussy?

it's a cat.

-p

this has to be the best one I've ever gotten

I got this in an email today:

-------------------------

My name is Mrs Mora William I am a dying woman who had decided to
donate what I have to you.I am 49 years old and was diagnosed for
cancer about 2 years ago,

I have been touched by God to donate from what I have inherited from
my late husband to you for the good work of God, rather than allow my
relatives to use my husband's hard earned funds ungodly. I have asked
God to forgive me all my sins and i believe he has because He is a
merciful God.

I will be going in for an operation,and i pray that i survive the
operation.I have decided to WILL/donate the sum of $1,500,000(One
million
five hundred thousand dollars) to you for the good work of the lord, and
to help the motherless,less privileged and also for the assistance of
the widows.At the moment I cannot take any telephone calls, due to the
fact that my relatives are around me and i have been restricted by my
doctor from taking telephone calls because i deserve all the rest i
can get.Presently,I
have informed my Nurse about my decision in WILLING this funds to
you. and my nurse name is Mrs Mary Donald Kindly Contact my Nurse
through this email address ( mrsmarydonalddesk@gmail.com )if you
are interested in carrying out this task,so that he can arrange tell you
how the Funds will be release to you ($1,500,000.00) to you.
My Nurse name is Mrs Mary Donald.I know I have never met you but my
mind tells me to do this,

and i hope you act sincerely.

Love, Mrs Mora William

---------------------------------------

Now the only question is,
what do I say in my email
to Mrs Mary Donald?

-p

Just wanted to make sure you saw this:

I got this comment on my last story,

"Wow...wouldn't it be interesting if, after all your ho-in' around, on various continents...you actually had some kids who were eligible for "retard camp." Not wishing that on you...but cosmic retribution sorta works that way. Life balances out...years spent being so callously irreverent will lead to years of sensitivity...somehow. "

wow.

-p

Special Needs

This story is hard to tell properly.

A lot are,
but most
you can get
the jist across
with some fancy
typing.

This one,
you really had to be there,
to appreciate the depth,
length, and scope
of the awkwardness,
and intensity.....
of the Retard Debacle.

I was playing my weekly gig
out in the suburbs at Durty Nellies.

I was staying at Pizzas' house,
I never call him Pizzas, but
lots of other people do,
so you can, too.

Pizzas lives right down
the street, so I could get my
drink on.

I play from 10:30 to 1 am,
or something like that.

It's always tough with
gigs like that, because
I feel the need to pace myself,
play slower songs, take more breaks,

et cetera.

This particular gig
had everything going for it,
good crowd, nice people,
sound was good,
everything was great,
except for me.

I just had a fog over my head,
and I couldn't get the train rolling.

Some people said I was being
hard on myself,
(yes, I just said hard on)
but I know when I'm
in the zone and when I'm not.

I needed something.

Enter,
the day camp counselors.

A dozen girls, and a few boys,
in matching bright yellow
tshirts that said something
about ants marching.

They came in just as I was taking a break,
I asked them, offstage, what their shirts
said and what was the occasion.

They were on a pub crawl,
all working together during the day.

Perfect,
this is exactly what I need,
some drunk, crazy, fun people
who know eachother, who can
have a good time, get some laughs,
give me some confidence,
and then leave to the next bar
and I'll continue my rocking
show for the loyal audience.

I told them I would sing them
a theme song, just stick around
till after the break.

I came back inside,
they had all gone outside.

No big deal,
you don't want a theme song?
no problem.

you don't want to check out the show
for five minutes?

no problem.

but don't come back
inside in groups of two going
to the bathroom and talking loudly
while you walk past the stage,
or I will make fun of you,
because your tshirts are stupid,
and so are you.

So that's kinda how it went down,
nothing major, just some jibes
as they came in and out.

Then....
then...
oh, then...

I was in the middle
of the Mystery of Clit,
By Request!
(which always makes me feel cool)
and it was at a dramatic pause,
and these bright yellow ant morons
came in and starting talking to the
big table that was here for the show.

hello.....
um... I can see you,
and hear you bothering people...
what do you want?

"we're on a pub crawl!"

yes... I know,
you told me that,
or one of you did,
I can't tell ants apart.

"so... if we sing one our songs,
we get, like... a ton of bonus points."

oh. okay, so now you want a theme song,
but not from me, you want to sing it....
okay.... fine, whatever, how does it go?

"no, like.... we'll just sing it"

no, like, you won't.
I know you might be confused,
because I'm sure that happens
to you all the time,
but this is a show,
and I was in the middle
of a song, and you are infecting
it with your stupidity,
and we're all getting dumber
while you're in the room.

...

It was just too many words for them,
sure enough, they came up to the front,
and started doing some song and dance
routine, a few even coming onstage,
one dickhead asking for my guitar,
one girl starting to play my keyboard.

I was a pretty good sport,
I was singing a song the whole time
on my looper pedal,
"go away now.. nobody likes you"
but it was all in good fun.

The audience seemed to be laughing,
and I always enjoy a chance to make
fun of a group of idiots and get away with it.

So!

after all that shit,
them taking over the stage,
me trying my best to cut
them to pieces, nicely enough,
and get the stage back,
they all sat down and seemed
ready to join the audience.

cool.

let's get on with it.

somehow, at some point,
one of the girls said something
out loud about wiping hairy butts all day.

As you can imagine,
I was confused.

I asked her to elaborate,
and she explained that they were
counselors at a special needs
day camp, and she had to wipe
poop from hairy butts all day.

I said,
"special needs kids have hairy butts?"

she said,
yes!

so, that was the next song,
obviously.

no problem.

all smiles and laughter.

then, a song or two later,
I made a reference to the counselors
in the middle of a lyric somewhere,
and said, "and the girls who work with retarded children..."

something like that,
I used the word retarded, for sure,
but definitely not in any malicious way.

All fucking hell broke loose.

The only way to describe it,
is to imagine eight pissed off
white girls, drunk off their asses,
doing a collective impression
of one, giant, pissed off black woman.

"oh, no you didn't!"

lots of finger waving,
swearing, cursing, how dare you-ing,
and general uproar went on
in thirty seconds.

I was shocked.

fucking shocked.

so let me just get this straight,
you come in here, act like
assholes during my performance,
sit down, and tell me outloud,
for no reason, that you wipe
disabled kids hairy, poopy butts all day.

but I let the word, retarded,
slip into a lyric, and now you're pissed off?

They stormed out,
in a line of drunk, dumb ants.

I used a line,
that I've used before,
its a sure fire room killer
after something like that.

"oh.... you guys are leaving? damn."

I was shaking with some sort of rage and confusion.

How uppity and...well...
retarded is that?
to get offended
by a word just because you
were told this year that its not correct?

I can't even use correct and politically
next to eachother without wanting to puke.

The best part,
oh... the best,
is when the queen bitch ant
came back in, up to the stage,
and said.... "what's your name?"

I thought she might be apologizing,
but the drool on her lip said otherwise.

First of all,
ant,
read that poster on the wall behind you,
second of all,
I'm not telling you shit.

"It's Nice Peter, isn't it?"

sometimes.

"Well........
........ ... ugh.....
I'm friends with the owner."

wow.
you got me.
I think I said something
to the effect of,
your words cut me
like boondoggle.

which I thought was hilarious,
because "boondoggle" is what
we called that stuff that you weave
into plastic bracelets.

not very sharp,
and I'm sure they're well
stocked with it at retard camp.

-p

complimentary

wow.

I got some nice
things said to me
over the internet.

in fact,
I stumbled onto
a message board
talking about my different
albums and which are better or worse.

that was crazy.

the nice things
were on my blog,
this blog,
I kinda hate the word blog.

I had the day off today,
I played all weekend at Durty Nellies.

They are basically supporting
my summer.

it's fantastic.

I play there on Wednesdays,
it's out in the suburbs,
but they want me to play so late,
that I can't drink, the last train
is at 12:35 am.

But last wednesday,
I crashed out in the suburbs,
and I did a lot of jager bombs,
and I wound up buck naked in
a hot tub at six in the morning
smoking out of a plastic bong and
listening to guns and roses.

it was textbook awesome.

I told Pauly about it,
we went back and forth
on text messages with
our recent crazy adventures
and decided we need to hang out more often.

I'll bring a video camera.

I'm going into a practice space
on Tuesday to play drums
and write and record some demos
and work out some new shit.

You gotta hear my new cover
of Get Low by lil john.

Oh...
that reminds me,
I was going to tell you
about my experience opening
for a cover band at Durty Nellies.

they were super, super, nice dudes.

the lead singer was peeing
into a jug backstage right before
he went on,
I have no idea why,
but it ruled.

They played hard, metal,
rocking kinda covers,
maybe one AC DC,
but lots of "bodies hit the floor"
kinda stuff.

I imagine they would be
very popular playing
for soldiers in Iraq.

anyhow,
their audience...
was trained monkeys.

It's hard to explain,
but they could not
pay attention to anything
for more than ten minutes
if they didn't know it already.

Maybe I'm being hard on them,
I was not at my best,
after all,
I had woken up that morning
in the suburbs buck
naked with the towel
from the hot tub still around me.

Happy America Day!

-p

Kitty

I got a kitten.

Holy shit is he cute.

I'm in no position to own a cat,
I travel a lot,
I don't know where I'm going to live
in a few months.

I had no intentions of getting a cat,
he kinda chose me.

Here's the story:

me and the lady
stopped into a pet store
after lunch in Indianapolis
just to kill a little time before
I started driving again.

It was this big, slightly alternative
pet store called Uncle Bill's.

I think.

I don't mean alternative,
like the cats were wearing black
eye makeup,
I mean, they had ferrets and alligators
and you could pet them.

Very free range pet store.

I played with a rabbit,
and got scratched by a ferret,
and then I walked by the kitten section.

I love kittens,
who doesn't love kittens?

I looked at them,
and said, "awwwww..."
and that was it.

But this one little guy cried out to me.

"....awwww..."

he just sat there,
so I went to pet him,
and he curled on his back
and started purring immediately.

He didn't want to play,
or eat,
he just wanted to be loved.

None of the other kittens
really gave two shits,
they were happy playing and eating.

But this guy wanted out.

So, we took him to this little booth
they have where you can check out the animals
for a few minutes.

he fell asleep in my arms.

What was I supposed to do?

He loved me,
and I was a sucker,
so I brought him home.

I couldn't see him
stuck in that cage,
or with some bratty kid
always pulling his tail.

Now he lives with me in my tiny apartment,
and I've got someone to happily look after him
when I go on the road.

All he does,
I'm not kidding,
is sleep,
play a little with your feet,
and cuddle.

And I do mean cuddle,
like nuzzling up to your head
and sighing.

awwww.

his name is Oliver.

not because of the orphan thing,
but because we drove past
an Olive Garden while we
were trying to come up with a name.

Oh yeah,
and he likes going in the car.

And he likes cheese.

and he does this little thing where
he perches above my bed and watches when...
well... you know.

and its pretty creepy.

but he still looks cute.

and he doesn't get baths,
he comes into the shower.

no kidding.

I'll try to get some pictures,
and I think I'm going to write a whole album about him.

So, I have a new responsibility,
but... at least its not a baby.

-p