I Am A Very Mature Grown-Up

These days, everything is topsy-turvy. Texting is the new talking, not smoking is the new smoking, bitch is the new black, and 25 is the new grown-up. This means that I, myself, am about to officially become a grown-up.



When you are a grown-up, you automatically know how to do the following things: online banking, soothe a crying infant, comparison shop for skilled auto mechanics, get divorces, and tell when someone has a fever by placing the back of your hand on their forehead. On friday I will possess all of these skills. I will also no longer laugh when people fart in public because buddy, that's just not very funny.


Wipe that smirk off your face right this moment, Mister!

The younger and more childish me would have found the following photograph hilarious.

Now I view it as an opportunity to celebrate the rich diversity and beauty of all the world's cultures. This means that I have become a man.

To celebrate this new phase of my life, I will start by attending the theater. I am going to see a very refined and very adult play (when I say "adult play", I don't mean X-rated or anything. If you thought I did, it's because you are child-like and clearly aren't a grown-up yet). It is called The Canterville Ghost, and apparently is so scary that many audience members have wet themselves out of fright. The former version of me would have giggled at this. The grown-up version of me sympathizes with these individuals because, on a serious note, incontinence is a problem that many adults have to live with.


The very official Shakespeare & Company website summarizes the play thusly:
"Internationally celebrated director Irina Brook and her company of talented Shakespeare & Company artists have freely adapted Oscar Wilde's story about a very American family that blusters its way into a haunted English manor, thoroughly annoying the stuffy old ghost who can't seem to scare them a whit. In this roaringly original adaptation, Sir Simon the Canterville Ghost is re-imagined as an over-the-hill illusionist reliving his glory days in the 1940's. Beneath the outrageous veneer of Wilde's achingly funny story is a depth of emotion, as the old ghost's long-delayed salvation rests upon a family's ability to trust, and a young girl's desire to believe. "

"Stuffy old ghost"? "Blusters its way"? "a whit"? This will certainly be the perfect occasion to practice wearing a monocle and passing out my business card.

Later that evening, after a full day of eating high-fiber meals and saying "Hmmmmm" in a knowing manner while reading the New Yorker, I may venture to Pittsfield's Copperworks for a civilized musical performance. If I'm feeling particularly saucy, perhaps I shall treat myself to a lime rickey.


The band is called Bella's Bartok, and they play "X-treme Klezmer". I do not know what that means.

To wind down the weekend, Sunday will conclude with a relaxed evening of soft food and quiet music at the Dreamaway Lodge in Becket. The very serious band Vetiver is going to be playing there. They are from San Francisco where I used to live, and they are widely renowned for their maturity and their beards. Here's what my friend Katie looks like when she's on their album cover. I think that she's a grown-up, but I'm not sure. She does have a very serious look on her face.



Would you like to join me during this weekend of subdued celebration? I'm going to need to see some ID first because, like the back room in the video store, this party is not for children. Come ride the geriatric train with me. Next stop: middle aged mediocrity. Toot toot!

My Internet Fame Is Skyrocketing

You doubted me, didn't you? I told you that I was a very famous and respected music video actor, and you assumed I was exaggerating. Well the following music video, made for the first single by musical sensation Xbians, shall silence you forever.
To learn more about what's going on here, go to myspace.com/xbians.

Meet Your Local Barista #3

Nick Motherfuckin' Dixon!!!


As the youngest member of the Lenox Coffee family, Nick's hobbies include fencing, not being able to drink, and still being trapped in high school. On the bright side, his fresh young face hasn't succumb to the ravages of stress and old age that have all but destroyed the good looks of the coffee shop's more seasoned employees.

Although he will deny it to the grave, Nick is actually a close relative of America's 37th president, Richard Nixon.

Nick Dixon.............................................................................Dick Nixon

The resemblance is undeniable. After graduating from high school, Nick plans on bombing Cambodia and spying on the Democratic national headquarters. He will be impeached.

But until then, Nick remains the youngest and most tender Lenox Coffee barista. Local cougars take note.

Here is a documentary about Nick Dixon for your viewing (masturbating) pleasure. Boner Apetite!

Do You Like Pleasure?

Then meet me at 11:30 behind the Big Y. But if you're more of a "pants-on" kind of person, you should check out Mt. Eerie, formerly known as The Microphones, playing at the Copperworks in Pittsfield tonight, Wednesday Sept 24.


Independent musicians enjoy trees and hills and also fog because it reflects the emotional fog they feel inside.

Mt. Eerie almost certainly has a Myspace page or an official website. If I were a better blogger, I would include a link to it here.

Allow me to anticipate and answer some questions you might have:

Question: When and where is this show happening?
Answer: It starts at 8:00 PM at 34 North Pearl St in Pittsfield, MA.

Q: This is an "alcohol free" show. What does that mean?
A: It means take your rotgut moonshine somewhere else, you washed up old drunk.

Q: Why is a very famous musician playing at the Copperworks?
A: Because famous people, like migrating birds and certain types of whales, can sense the magnetic north using a special cerebral node. The Copperworks activates this node.

Q: Does it cost money to see the show?
A: Members of the press, such as myself, actually receive money and oral sex in exchange for attending events like this. But commoners like you will have to pay $7.

Q: Is it true that Jesus will no longer love me if I touch me wiener at night?
A: False. Jesus stopped loving you years ago.

Q: Where can I find information about this concert that isn't tinged by the biases and agendas of the radical right wing media?
A: At the Copperworks website, you freedom-hating liberal homosexual.

Let's Talk About Embarrassment

In our image-driven society, in which the ego is worshipped and the individual is emphasized over the group, it's really, really easy to fuck up. It goes without saying that one's primary day-to-day goal is to maintain their own reputation and to establish his or herself as an important individual who is high in the social pecking order. But such status is tenuous at best.



You can do everything right for years and no one says anything, but then BAM! You show up to school wearing the wrong t-shirt and you are banned for life from the cool kids' table. Just like Def Leppard's drummer who lost his arm, no one ever takes you seriously again.



There are different kinds of embarrassment. There's the type you feel when you get a boner in second grade, the type that makes you cringe when grandma says "nigger", and the type you experience when you see something that degrades everyone involved. This video is an excellent example of the third type of embarrassment.



This type of embarrassment is especially terrible since it affects everyone who witnesses it. This particular clip mortified an entire generation. That's why they had to shoot Elizabeth Berkely. No one is sad that she's dead.

But the worst kind of embarrassment is the personal kind, the kind that involves you making a mistake that becomes the subject of ridicule. And sometimes these mistakes start out seeming like good ideas. For example, I recently tried to prove my hypothesis that Nair would have no effect on my incredibly masculine chest hair. I was not only wrong but also, according to some of my close friends, fucking retarded.


Goodbye, cool kids' table. Sigh.

Embarrassment Update:
This man's name is very embarrassing.

But at least he owns a home.

Frisky Little Phillies

Today, in Lenox, Massachuesetts, something very, very quaint happened. Pie baking contest? Nope. Harvest festival? Wrong! Butt party? Dude, that doesn't even mean anything. What actually happened was this:



THE MOTHERFUCKING TUB PARADE!!!

This parade, which happens every September on Lenox's Main Street, celebrates rich people who died a long time ago and the horses that dragged them around, because walking is for the poor. When I arrived at the site of the parade, I was greeted by the smell of popcorn and of horse turds. See these kids in red shirts? Their job is to pick up the turds. You think I'm kidding. I'm not. These kids pick up shit. This job is what's known as a "resume builder".



While watching this historical parade I was greeting with astonishing sights and sounds, including this fat little philly running its little legs off to drag a rich lady around. I tried to embed the video. But nope, that sure didn't work. Here's a link, though.
This horse wishes that it could eat the rich lady.

But he didn't eat her. And before any of us knew it, hell-on-wheels came roaring down the road, complete with a dude in a hat blowing a horn. It was the best day of my life.
I love you, rich people.

We Survived The Apocalypse!

Friends! This is a most joyous day! What could have been the last day in the history of stuff turned out to just be Wednesday! You see, this morning scientists in Geneva tested a horrible death machine that could have annihilated the entire world. I woke up this morning expecting to look out my window and see a big black hole coming my way, or at least some strangelets lurking around. But nope. It wasn't dying time. It was sandwich time.

To learn more about why we aren't dead right now, read this.

It is clearly time for celebration. Here is a video of an excellent party at which nothing at all goes wrong.


"Celebrate good times COME ON!"
- Kool and the Gang

This officially ends the 413some's preoccupation with science and death. From here on out it's all about drinking and being fancy.

Space Rope!

This week has been boiling over with exciting scientific news. I guess this is only fair, since this will be the last week that ever exists (see previous post - we are all definitely going to die on Wednesday). If the Large Hadron Collider doesn't turn us into strangelets, we have some pretty amazing things to look forward to. These include the next 'sode of Gossip Girl and SPACE ROPE!

This is what the space rope will look like. It will look like a boner.


I am almost entirely ignorant as to how the space rope works, but I understand it this way: there's a big old rope hanging on down from outer space, and if you grab onto it tight enough the you get whisked up into space. That's it. Wanna go to space? Problem frickin' solved!

Here are some examples of conversations that will happen all the time once the space rope is operational:

Mom: Where's Dave?
Son: Space.
Mom: How'd he get there?
Son: Rope.

Friend 1: What are you doing today?
Friend 2: Probably get a sandwich, gotta swing by the cell phone store, then I'm gonna go to outer space real quick.
Friend 1: Sweet.

Wife: Why are you applying Vaseline to your chest and groin?
Husband: Space rope burn.

In case you are still not shaking with excitement over the space rope, check out this professionally taken photograph showing how cool I look while using the space rope.

Naked babes love the space rope. The future is gonna rule.

We Are All Going To Be Killed.......By BONERS!

Friends, these are tumultuous times. We live on the brink of global destruction. I'm not talking about nuclear war or those disappearin' bees, and I don't even believe in "global warming". I'm referring, of course, to the imminent threat posed by the LARGE HARDON COLLIDER!



This device is so large and deadly that it's like the four horsemen (I just realized that the word "semen" is totally in horsemen. Hehe. Also, "hardon" is in chardonnay.") of the apocalypse assembled themselves into one giant machine, like the Power Rangers except with less implicit racism.

This is the biggest machine ever made by anyone in history (Take THAT, ancient Egyptians with your faggy pyramids!). It was built to test some guy's theory of this that and the other thing, and it's 17 miles big. And when they switch it on this wednesday, we're all going to fucking die, forever.

Despite the device's hilarious name, it sadly does not look anything like this:


I bet you are full of questions at the moment. Some of them might include, "Why is this dick machine or whatever it is gonna kill me?", "What will the end of the world be like?", and "What unbelievable material is that cactus guy's wife's V made of?" These are all excellent questions, to which I have nary an answer. All I know is that I am scared. I'm scared of black holes and strangelets and giant colliding hardons and anything else that can destroy the earth in a matter of minutes. If you too would like to be scared shitless, I invite you to take a gander at this terrifying science video.



Try and have a good night's sleep this wednesday, I dare you. And if we're still here on thursday then I will have a giant fucking high-five waiting for you because, bro, we survived acocalypse.

Update: After several people rightly pointed out that this blog post makes no sense whatsoever, I have decided to post a link that actually explains what the Large Hadron Collider is. Here you go, friends.