Well, that ought to be easy for a genuine son of a bitch

I'll be honest with you guys right now- I don't know where the Doctor is. Part of me thinks he is in his lair, fiendishly twisting his moustache, plotting some evil shit. Part of me thinks David Berman from the Silver Jews showed up in his parlor to beat his ass because our fine Doctor probably lurched at Cassie Berman. The rest of me thinks he has probably just been partaking heavily in spirits, rendering him unable to write as the pine-scented devil (gin) toils in his brain. Alls I knows is that I am suffering from a few ailments currently- hysteria, asthma and Dr. Bubastis withdrawls. They might all be the same, I don't really know.

In recent-ish news, Paul Newman fought the cancer and the cancer won. Some of you might be familiar with him because of his tasty snacks and salad dressings, some of you might be familiar with the amount of money he donated from the post-tax profits of his tasty snacks and salad dressings sales (over $220 million) and his encouragement for corporate philanthropy but some of you might be familiar with him because of his acting:



Megan would want me to say that some of you might be familiar with Paul Newman because of his pretty serious case of the hot, but I feel yucky thinking about Paul Newman being hot because he and my dad kind of looked alike back in their heyday. You're calling bullshit, already? Well, check out this fine picture of an issue of Playgirl my dad was in back in '77 when he was like 30:



Yeah, I found that shit on Ebay. Look at that fucking jumpsuit, dude. Or is that a romper? Either way, dudes don't got steeze like that no more. Now before you bobcat (male cougars) hunters get all worked up, he now looks like a cross between a fat Mikhail Baryshnikov and Bob Kelso from Scrubs, acts like a cross between Matlock and Robocob and enjoys Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, yachts, anti-wrinkle serums, Jesus and posting on San Diego Chargers related-forums. Oh, and textually harassing his tech-support girl.

God, I don't feel like writing any more about my weird dad even though I know you guys are chomping at the bit and some of you have been for years. No, I won't give you the issues of Playgirl I found in the garage. No, I didn't look at the dick pics, I shrieked like a banshee and threw the box across the garage and have yet to venture to that side again. No, I won't scan them in for you guys. UGH.

Anyways, The Jealous Girlfriends have a new video out for "Organs On the Kitchen Floor" and DAYUUM am I into it:

Organ On The Kitchen Floor - The Jealous Girlfriends


Time to go inhale my steroids so I can pump some iron,

'stina

I'm a wolf

Last night 'Stina and I attempted to see Sea Wolf at the Casbah. They fucked up man. They got big enough to sell out the Casbah. Just kidding, we're not that snobby. Well, not all the time. So how about a video followed by a hypothetical concert review? Sounds good to me too.



I'm guessing their show is a lot like this but with more of us struggling to see past the tall people who always insist on standing in the front and never ever offer us piggyback rides. I'm guessing that they are foxier in person and we would have been pretty excited about that because objectifying dudes is fun.

We would have gotten really excited about the jealous girlfriends because we're going through a phase where we get really excited about synthesizers and whispery femme vocals and Stina would find some cool technical shit to say. I'm really digging on their song "Roboxulla" right about now.

Patrick Park also played, you can sample them here at their myspace. Pretty similar to Sea Wolf. "Here We Are" stands out to me because I like finger picking. That's what she said.

I was on DD (designated driver, not boob) duty, and let's face it, I was in a shitty mood yesterday, so I probably would have bitched a lot about my feet hurting and made snarky comments. I'm guessing one of us would have had an unpleasant run-in with an acquaintance or worse.

And all of these things would have been preferable to what actually happened: we drove back to north county, rescued our friend Devin from the cougar den and I got in a total bitch fight because some peroxide blonde chick jostled me and spilled my cocktail all over my arm and then talked shit on me to her boyfriend like seriously, one foot away from me. Then I spent the rest of the night being a sad sack, my only saving grace being the snap decision that I was not in fact drunk enough to text. Bad times.