Homeless Vagina

On Friday night, I headed out to Williamsburg to see Japanther. For those of you who don't know who Japanther is or what they sound like, shame on you. Japanther (Ian Vanek and Matt Reilly) is easily some of the best noise rock/punk music out today. Yikes, could that sound any lamer? Trust me though, they're good. The show was originally set to be held in the Sugar Factory, a super flossy nightclub, on South 2nd and Kent. But, alas, problems with the management arose and the show was moved to a much cooler/intimate, albeit much smaller, space next door. No stage separated the bands from the audience, which gave it that fun friend's basement-type authenticity.

The first band, Jason Anderson and the Best was totally not bad. They were full of energy, Jason Anderson had a great scream, there was dude on the sax!! AND a cute girl on the tambourine! All-in-all a great way to start the night. After their set, I grabbed a beer, met up with a rad bro, Jah Jah and his rad bro Thomas, drank more beer and sparks (mistake), and waited for Japanther. When they came on, I was right up front. Dudes and Dudettes started getting raucous and fun and within, what felt like, 50 seconds, someone had started surfing. I got kicked in the face and was sufficiently drunk enough to not care.

What I did care about though was what was standing next to me, easily the smelliest person in Brooklyn. Literally, the smell that was wafting off of this person could had killed a much smaller, weaker person. The aroma was a mix of bad vag and homeless, so I guess you could say, homeless vag? I know what you're thinking, "Jacque, what smells were you expecting at the punk show filled with sweaty crusties? Fresh baked cookies or lilac?" No, no I wasn't. I just didn't expect to be hit in the face with the olfactory equivalent of a baseball bat. And I was! As I was dancing (the ultimate bro has NO rhythm and therefore dances like a itchy, epileptic chicken) the source of the stink was moving closer and closer to my person. Let me describe what the homeless vagina looked like, a white guy, a little taller than me (5'6"? 5'7" maybe?), with a pubey, gnarly mess of facial hair, fingerless gloves (woof!), big grandma-esque looking glasses that were probably not prescription (does that make them worse or better? in any case, double woof!) and, to top it all off, the grossest nest of poo locks I have ever seen. Long, scraggly and clearly the source of smell. Short aside here, what is it about white kids and dreads? Are you a rastafarian? No, you're not. You are lazy and hate Mom and Dad and the rest of us and are punishing our eyes and noses. At one point he was whipping them around so frantically, they were precious centimeters away from my own face. I felt like Ben Stiller in that shitty movie when he plays basketball with a sweaty, hairy dude. Only plus like a thousand, tiny bugs.

I spilt before the next band, teen sensation/ultimate shtickers Harry and the Potters played. Because I don't like Harry Potter (or a so-so band riding that wave for all it's worth), but also out of fear of being infected by whatever Sir Homeless Vag McPoolocks was surely spreading.

the ultimate bromancer and possible puppy hawker?

My resume should be featured under the "Symptoms" section of bi-polar disorder in the latest edition of the DSM. But I figure I need money and I like hanging out with rad, little puppies- so it's kind of perfect, no?

Before you answer, let me tell you how this opportunity presented itself...

I was walking around yesterday, feeling "eh." Usually when I feel "eh" a few things cheer me up: sex, buying something I really want but don't need, or high fiving puppies at Le Petite Puppy on Christopher Street. Sex was out of the question, my girlfriend was working under major deadline. Buying something I really want, but don't need sounded good, but alas NO CASH! So, onto the puppy store it was. I usually roll on by once a week, play with a fun dog, talk to it about doggy pizza and beer, and think about a life (with a dog of my own) filled with human pizza/beer, puppy pizza/beer and T.V. Ah, bro and dog. So sweet. But, yesterday when I went in, before I said anything, the owner flat out asked, "When are you going to come and work for me?" Stoked and shocked, I said I'd have to think about it. He gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him at the end of the week to let him know what I decided.

I think I might try it out.

Bag of Dicks Award!

I have decided to start a new feature on my blog. Every Friday, I will feature someone or something that deserves to eat a big bag of dicks- whether it be because they did something stupid, said something stupid, wrote something stupid, etc (really any combination of dumb/stupid people/things qualify). You get it. So, without further ado, I present to you the first bag of dicks award... and it goes to...


M Y G I R L F R I E N D !

Yes, my girlfriend. At first I thought maybe I'd award it to Anne Coulter, but every queer rights org is doing a pretty good job of awarding her their own personal brand of bagged dick so I'll lay off. Back to my girlfriend, she's been gone the entire week and her absence has totally fucked up my routine. For one thing, no bone! I know couples can go for days, even weeks (!), without sex, but we aren't lame and straight. I shouldn't say that. I'm sure their are tons of heteros fucking all over town, all the time. You see what sex deprivation does to me!? Makes me mean and insolent. I'm sorry my straight brothers and sisters. Where was I? Oh, another thing about my girlfriend being away- I never realized how much easier life is when you have someone else doing half of the mundane housekeeping/organizing stuff. Unloading the dishwasher, loading it, making the bed, sweeping, cleaning the bathroom, taking out the trash, taking out the recycling, grocery shopping, etc, etc while TOTALLY alone is some depressing shit! What else? I guess that's about it. See what little can qualify you to receive this award? Better watch out!

Anne Coulter

Classin' it up, as usual.

so,

Who wants to go to the Hawaiian Tropic Zone with me next week? BROMANCE!

the oscars, etc.

So, the biggest news of the Oscars is that they're going to be green. Seriously? What is the academy going to do? Turn the lights out during the commercial break? Does anyone have any idea what they plan to do? Or should everyone start collectively ignoring anything anyone from L.A. ever says? I think I'll do the latter starting... now. Other than all that bullshit, I have nothing else to say about the Oscars. I only saw two and three fourths of the movies nominated. I totally slept through the ending of Little Miss Sunshine, not because I was bored, but because I was on sleep inducing drugs. And I was bored. Maybe I'll start going to more movies. Meh.

What else? The other day, I was talking to my friend-who I will call B.*- about Brooke Hogan. And I said that Brooke Hogan looks like a football player wearing a blond slut suit and B. laughed. And then B. told me today that he riffed off my joke and said that Brooke Hogan looks like Venus Williams is wearing an Anna Nicole Smith suit. Really though, I thought my version was better, simply because B's version was way too topical/disorienting. Why am I typing out all of this? Oh, because I said a funny thing today to B. and he said that he'd only use the joke after I use it/claim ownership of the joke in a public place (my blog), but now I've totally forgotten it! I guess he deserves the joke.































*I realize that some of my friends may not want their identity revealed, although B. is totally one that would, but my mission in life is to take away anything that will make B. happy so... no full name here sucka!

things I don't want to admit:

1. I think Sienna Miller is super fine, like SUPER FINE.

2. Up until 13 minutes ago I had no clue who Sienna Miller was or what she was famous for. I figured a model, actress, singer or some glorious hybrid of those three(?).

3. I am really mad at Bravo. It all started when Jeffrey "Hot Topic" Sebelia won Project Runway. And then they sort of won me back when they started airing Six Feet Under, but now they've kind of taken a HUGE shit all over the good they've done with the losing combo of bequething the title of Top Chef onto Ilan (I would have preferred any of the other finalists over him) and Top Design. Double finger to Bravo.

4. There is something floating around in my water. Yuck. I'm still drinking it though.

5. I think I like Sarah Silverman's show on Comedy Central, which leads me directly to...

6. Dick and fart jokes get me everytime.