Have I mentioned how ridiculously happy I am right now? It’s totally sickening. Oh my God, I gross me out. When people ask me how things with the VCB are I say things like, “Beautiful. Fucking amazing.” Because they so are. It’s thoroughly disgusting, and you should be glad I’ve spared you as much as I have, because I know how little people like to hear about other people’s perfect romances. It’s been hard, though. I sit down to write these days and all that I accomplish is a stupid grin at a blank page.
Work has even been kind of cool. At least Friday night was. At about 6:30 I’m in the kitchen when another server says to me, in passing, “All the lights in the 20s just went down.” I thought nothing of it, because they always dim the lights at dusk and occasionally somebody fucks it up. But then the kitchen got about 50 degrees hotter in about five minutes and it filled with stifling smoke. The saute and flat-top grills, the fryers, the dishwasher, the air conditioning–everything was down. The only lights in the dining room were on thanks to a generator. I watched my mangers’ eyes widen and their hearts sink. This was some Fucked Up Shit.
Before long the electric company was there asking everyone to leave the building. After waiting in the parking lot for close to an hour, they finally decided to shut down the restaurant for the night. I was home by 8:30. Sure, I only made $30, but coolest day at work EVER. In six years every time the lights flickered, the hot water went, the tornadoes came–we’ve never had to close down. It was incredibly gratifying in a way to be there when the machine collapsed.
I am, though, sad about my new keyboard. I bought a new one after ruining yet another with mere water. I was standing on the other side of the room when a glass of water tipped over and soaked my entire desk. I can burn through peripherals like Snoop Dog through a quarter sack, and yep, I had to fucking do it again. New mouse, new keyboard. [Please read the next line in as whiny a voice as possible.] And the keys are too tight. It makes me want to cry. I’d rather write in crayon on toilet paper in the rain than on this thing. The backspace button is as big as the ‘q’ or ‘4′ button. What the fuck is that shit? When I fuck up I do it BIG; I needs me a big ol’ fat delete button.
I’m gonna stand across the room and see if I can make water spill with my eyes again so I can justify buying another keyboard.
In other news, one of my all-time, most favorite bloggers in all the land has moved and gotten her own domain. Using Movable Type. Swanky. I wish I was smart enough to do Movable Type, so I could helped her and gotten my own hams against glass pics. Those would be a hottt commodity.
Also, BIG LOVE to Sir Mildred Pierce for hooking a girl the fuck up. He sent me enough CDs, cases, envelopes and postage to mail out 30 mix CDs. Isn’t that entirely too generous? And the package is already here, too. Which means I should whip that CD into shape, which I plan today on my day off tomorrow. It’s the order of the songs that has me snagged. It needs to be just so. Anyway, those who will recieve mixes based on their reasons for wanting one (and the real reason they were picked) are as follows: Sir Mildred Pierce (he funded the project), Mikro (since he made me one and he knows a whole shit-ton about music and I expect a full review, mister), yiekes (because I haven’t written about how life changing it was to meet her yet), Cooky (because she’ll be crazy about it), Mus (’cause I ran over her foot), yezbick (for getting naked) and battletapes (because he never, ever gets laid).
Oh yeah, and don’t sneezes feel fucking great?
25 comments ↓
almost as great as that stifled shit you’ve been holding until your lunch break - whereupon all hell is unleashed…
as far as manager’s eyes opening wide - it’s better that it’s their eyes instead of their ass because their owner is such a schweddy -buttfucker…thanks for the cd. i will return the favor…
Great to hear you’re so happy Brittney. For real. Hope it keeps on running for you. You deserve it. Dopey, happy grins are the best.
Sneezing is my favorite. Can you bring it on by staring into the sun or a bright light? I can. Lucky me.
thanks… i think. and to think i told all my guy friends and my dad to read your blog to get a feel for how cool i was any time you mentioned me. fuck.
still tell me what you want on your cd (stylistically) or if i should just “go crazy” and put all kinds of sad music that boys who never get laid listen to.
and glad to hear you’re very happy with mr cutie pants. i remember when he spent those 3 days with us recording back in 2001 in brian carter’s little house and so i know those feelings you’ve got going. hubba hubba, manly love.
here’s how tired I am…
I read ambiguo say “Dopey, happy grins are the best.” and then read “Sneezing is my favorite.” by Vera. and I kinda thought that this thread had turned into some discussion on the seven dwarves.
So, which will happen first? battletapes gets laid, or new Mercator record? You’ll have to do some fancy calculus at home to predict it, since the rate of change of one will affect the rate of change of the other. This time last year I was not getting laid and mixing the Glossary record.
see, mr librarian, the mercator record could really be done at any time. i could finish my remaining guitar parts in a day or two at the most and get a reasonable mix in a week’s time, really. but i still want to do all kinds of weird shit to it that i haven’t had time to sit down and map out and all that. plus, then there will only be a few people like you who would even have a copy for as long as it took for us to find a label. and, considering that we can’t tour much/at all cos of chris and considering that we’re going to have to find a new bassist around the end of the year, it just gets more and more difficult.
hopefully i get laid again before all that. cos, if i don’t, i very likely might blow my brains out. and, if you’re not careful, maybe i’ll make ole brit a mix cd that guarantees me some blogsex and leaves mr vcb a lonely, mercator-waiting man. haha!
hate. purest, seething hate.
oh, and i understand about the keyboard thing, britt. i’ve got a circa 1999 apple g3, from when they came with the little sissy-baby keyboards with half sized arrow keys and function keys. and the keys are really close together. i need a new one.
Why don’t you put a mercator song on Brittney’s mix cd . . . and then also all the mercator songs on a cd for me. Okay, thanks.
And, damn, Jeremy. Just leave the house. You could get laid in half a second if you put some effort into it. You are a handsome man, any girl that doesn’t wanna hit that shit after a Mercator is, um, no kinda girl I know (except for my girlfriend and my sister.)
That is so fucking funny, sabre-toothed librarian. The part about the dwarves. Made me laugh out loud at 7 in the morning - a rare occasion. Thanks. :)
oh my god. what was i thinking when i wrote that? - ok, well - i know what i was thinking…but have i no shame?
those who will receive mixes are as follows:
*weeps*
Seriously, congrats on the success with the VCB. (I’m with you…the VCG on this end is *great*.)
mikro, i am aware that i could get laid fairly easily if i went out, yes… but i’m not just looking for a “hookup” is the thing like some people…. not into the sluts (that often).
and i have had a total of like 3 girls even remotely hit on me after a mercator show so i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about there. (and those girls were drunk&old, with their boyfriend, and kinda really weird.)
i’m glad that people are updating their blogs again. wheeee. i’m hungry.
Yeah, I guess that I was just trying to say that I usually want to fuck you after a Mercator show.
Question: why is it somehow against the rules to write about how great it is to be in love? I say “FUCK YOU” to this curmudgeonly concept that just because not ALL of us are in love simultaneously, that NONE of us can relate to each other’s joy. Is this some sort of fear institutionalized reverse-schadenfreude, i.e. “What if people hate me because I am happy”? I say, SPEAKETH OF THE LOVE!
PS: I mainly say this because I want to hear more about saran wrap and butt sex.
PPS: Not really.
ariel, i’m not sure who is saying that it isn’t good to write about being in love. for blogs or music or literature or whatever, it’s probably the only thing (other than total depression) where you feel so powerful about something that you can really write a lot…. unless you’re refering to brittney’s “sorry to write about it” thing, in which case i’m sure she’s apologizing to people like me who read it and are nowhere near being in love for being happy when maybe we aren’t… but that seems more like a “cover your bases with your friends” thing than an honest feeling. cos i know both brit and mr cutie pants, the “vcb”, and i like them both a lot and i’m very happy they are happy. i’m sure the same sentiment could be said by many of us. i sometimes feel that happy too, and it’s called taking drugs.
yezbik: I’m gonna start calling you Lunch Break.
Hey, Britt, don’t feel bad about your water spilling tendencies. At least you don’t make a complete ass of yourself in public places. This past Friday was a good friend of mine’s bachealor party, so we took him to Nashville to show him a good time. We got a room at the Sheraton so’s we could walk or take a taxi to anywhere we decided to go. It all started out very innocently at the local Hooter’s. — I’ve always disliked the place but I did have a very tasty grilled chicken “breast” sandwhich. — From there we went to some damned three-level bar/dance club/place from hell where I proceeded to buy about $60 or $70 worth of shots for three of us. (everything gets blurry here) I needed to take a piss and my friend Bradley points out that the restroom is across the room, on the other side of the dance floor. Well, you know the shortest distance between two points… So as I step onto the dance floor I go from walking to some kind of funky little dance-shuffle thing. In about 1.89 seconds it was like the parting of the Red Sea. Girls were still dancing but moving away from my general direction, looking over their shoulders like I don’t have pants on or some shit. Needless to say we left right after that. — fade to black — Next thing I know we’re in some cab, I’m in the front, and there’s this guy to my left playing guitar and singing some song that I can’t make out. It suddenly hits me that he’s also driving. — to black again — I’m walking around, there’s all this noise, not much light, I don’t know where anyone is (I’m thinking “god, I’ve been left behind”), and I’m wandering aimlessly. Next thing I know I’m in some room and there are half naked chicks all around me sitting in front of mirrors and I’m standing there (probably drooling on myself and not b/c of the chicks) looking like something someone fished out of the toilet. They’re all staring at me now, and I can’t move. A woman rushes up to me with a disgusted look on her face and says, “Uhh, you’ve got go.” I bobbled around and went back out into the — black once again — I’m on the top floor of the Sheraton with one of my friends. I’m looking over the edge at the bottom floor and a bit of spit escapes my mouth and falls, and falls, and falls, and I’m thinking, “What the fuck!”
Come to find out the next day that we almost got thrown out of the tittie bar b/c I fell asleep. They propped my head up somehow and managed to keep my eyes open until they were all ready to go.
There now is a picture of my drunken visage in the dressing room of Christie’s with a direct order to call the cops upon sight of.
Oh, yeah, I found puke on my shirt the next day. No one knows if it was mine or not.
I can’t be taken anywhere.
holy
shitcow! I haven’t read sam’s comment yet - but I’ll be sure to give you a summary of it next week….when the strike tags work. and strangers with candy isn’t so damn funny…
Damn, Sam, that’s a helluva yarn. Oh what a night, indeed.
haha. shit cow.
Brittney:When people ask me how things with the VCB are I say things like, “Beautiful. Fucking amazing.”
Vidiot:(I’m with you…the VCG on this end is *great*.)
Ach, you two. I’m gettin’ diabetes over here. Plus Movable Tape is what my Sottish buddy Frank T. woulda called a piece o’ piss. Hell, even I managed to make it work.
And sneezes feel nice, unless they’re the type of sneezes that send ribbons of snot all over your face in public. Which makes them Mucus Porn-mukake, if you will.
I remember an old TV commercial for some kind of cold medicine for kids. I guess they want around with a camera asking kids if they like being sick or not. Of course they all look sad and say how terrible it is, except this one little tike goes “I think it’s a little bit of fun when ya sneeze.” I love that kid.
There are people in the world that will, um, go to bed with spices in the hopes that they can sneeze during orgasm, which supposedly produces an amazing feeling. I think this would be a great experiment for your next article, brittney.
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