Yes, there's nothing better than being a $300 Walking Disappointment. It only makes it that much more kickass when 2 and a half people actually DO get what I'm dressed as. So, yes, in a technical sense, I was "a member" of the Hives (don't say fat bassist, don't say fat bassist, don't say fat bassist).
But, that really isn't the title of this post. That's just my little Constitutional Preamble before the meat and potatoes.
A Little Ineffectual Nothing
Yes, I'm a little fucking ineffectual nothing. If you're familiar with the film Dazed & Confused, you'll get what I'm talking aboot. If not, let me explain. There's this nerdy fellow with AWESOME hair who would later go on to play Chandler's temporary new roommate on Friends for a few episodes (That's a Goldfish Cracker). Anyhoo, this nerdy fellow with the awesome hair goes to this keg-type-thing in the park and makes some offhanded comment to some fucking piece of shit greaser dude (as it would happen, I'm making offhanded comments all the time, and if MATT, MELODY, or EDMAN would like to fill me in on exactly just what I said, that'd be great). And, this greaser dude, he approaches the nerdy fellow with the awesome hair and talks a bunch of shit and gets all shovey and essentially emasculates the nerdy fellow with the awesome hair to the point where the nerdy fellow with the awesome hair obsesses over this fact so much that he calls himself
A Little Ineffectual Nothing
and presumes to approach the greaser with a clenched fist and the hope that the ensuing fight will be broken up in no less than five seconds.
The only differences here with this guy (I'm pointing to myself with a free thumb as I type this shit) and the nerdy fellow with the awesome hair is
a) I don't have fucking awesome hair!
and
b) I'm even more of a little ineffectual nothing because I didn't even have the fortitude to go back into Jack In The Box and manhandle that ruffian.
And, no offense to Matt, Melody, or Edman's awesome fighting skills, but with their powers combined they really wouldn't have been able to take that dude off of me when I would've been eventually taken down with a few blows to this beautiful face (ha!) and perhaps a nice headlock or two, let alone the two or three dudes this fucker was with. All I needed was a fucking posse of one more than me and that fuck face ...
OK, there's really not too much that really gets my goat like this. And, I know this is totally a fucking macho man chauvinist pissing contest kind of issue here, but bear with me (bare with me? it couldn't be the animal BEAR, could it?). Later, I'll deny I ever said anything so moronic, but a man's gotta be able to defend himself (yeah yeah, save the fucking jokes -- WHAT MAN?). The only problem is, I really don't see the motherfucking point in defending myself when a fucking fight isn't warranted in the first fucking place. It's not like I pissed on his mother! It's not like I even ALLUDED to pissing on his mother! Who knows WHAT the fuck I said (Matt, Melody, and Edman might), but I do know one thing; whatever I said, it was NOT fight-worthy.
Why are people so mother FUCKING testy all the mother FUCKING time? It makes me fucking sick, and you know what? Just saying that they're drunk hasn't a GOD-DAMN MOTHERFUCKING thing to do with a GOD-DAMN MOTHERFUCKING thing! Why can't people learn to chill the fuck out and handle their fucking cock-size issues in more constructive manners than manhandling the white tie of a drunken jackass exiting the fucking Jack In The Box on a fucking Friday night? Really, I mean, is it true what they say? Are these insecure fucks just so messed up inside about their small penis size that they're always on edge and looking for the first thing to set them off into a raging fury of fisticuffs? Seriously, we need to mark these people like the Jews of Nazi Germany (only with a more positive cause in mind, though I wouldn't be adverse to gassing some of these jerky piles of horse shit) so people know who the FUCK to stay away from on a Friday night.
OK, I just had to get that out. Now, on to more dire issues (yeah, that fucking took up a LOT of space too)
This is me before the Academy Awards come on TV -- "Oh, yay, this is gonna be AWESOME! Chris Rock's gonna make me laugh so hard I'll piss my pants; all my favorite movie (Sideways) are gonna win all their awards; and I'll totally be blown away by the new award-giving format they're implimenting this year."
And, this is me after the Academy Awards have been broadcast on TV -- "Jesus, that fucking SUCKED."
So, without any further ado, I hereby submit my awards to the people at the Rockstar Party last night.
For Best Overall Costume, the nominees are (boy howdy if this ain't biased, nothing is): Mark Sloane (worthless without the K and E) as one of the Beastie Boys; Sarah Camiel (half Jew, half not) as NOT Howlin' Pete Almqvist's Groupie (since he REQUIRES no groupies, he's that fucking cool); Matt W. Roarty as latter-day 80's Bob Dylan; Caitlin Holliday (with the SIX HOUR hair salon journey) as Courtney Love; and Konstantin Rondell Zak as Martina . . . I mean, Kurt Cobain. Envelope please ... and the award goes to
The awesome harmonica stylings of MATT W. ROARTY.
Yes, his costume was truly unmatched last night; though I will give out props to some others. Michael pulled off the new Billy Joe Armstrong look very well; Bianca made a FANTASTIC Meg White (and, I might add, a very receptive pupil of the Meg White Drumming School); Mario's miscellaneous rockstar look (I'm STILL trying to figure out who in the hell he looks like, though a hipster Santana from the mid-seventies as Mark suggested might suffice for now); and, really, I'm just happy SOMEONE showed up as Janis Joplin (nice going, Gretch). Seriously, we can only have so many Courtney Loves in attendance, and I do believe Caitlin was there first ...
Of course, had I KNOWN Gretchen was going as Janis, I would've brought a corresponding CD with.
Honestly, I don't know WHY I allow myself to be dragged to Jack In The Box of all places. I don't even LIKE Jack In The Crack! And, really, if I was only chaperoning because I was the muscle of the evening (again, apologies to Melody, Edman, and Sometimes Matt -- who showed up later), I seriously failed. As the walking embodiment of "Muscleheaded Goon," I really shouldn't be the one starting these little pissant tiffs (yes, and there really isn't anything more effeminate than using the word "tiff" in an actual living, breathing sentence). But, I get dragged along anyway (we fugly sluts gotta stick together). However, I should give thanks as it took me away from the kitchen (which appears to be the main congregating area for these 5010 parties EVERY TIME), and in essence, took me away from the alcohol sitting there. Seriously, I drink like a fish regardless, what the HELL am I thinking letting first Mark and his Gin shot, and then Sarah and her SoCo shot into my evening. Bad influences, I swear. So, you know, I didn't end up puking by the bathroom floor downstairs like ol' Rondell; nor did I christen the stairs with vomit of my own again; nor did I lose my jacket or ruin my nice clothes or break my glasses, or run off and get lost, or try passing out in the I-Hop parking lot (now, seriously, if we would've went there, I TOTALLY would've gotten something) and get the beatdown of a lifetime from Matt, Melody, and Edman.
Using restraint really never felt more worthless. God damn, I really wish I remembered what I said; so I can make sure to say it again when and if I actually DO have Kon around to save me from a bloody nose of a lifetime.
But, I suppose going back to Jack in the Box would've been a very BAD idea anyway.
Fucking little ineffectual nothing me
Current Mood: Big Ups to Bianca for Guessing My Costume Upon Sight First
Current Music: Jamiroquai - Canned Heat (Napoleon Dynamite Dance Song)
(Anonymous)
2005-02-26 07:06 pm UTC
For all the incoherent ramblings of last night- i am probably sure of about five things:
1. Matt talked about how his farts have beats (ummm......yeah) which might have made it onto the made stylings of the harmonica jam sessions you and him had going.
2. I was pretty pissed off at anyone in my peripheral vision (for what reason, we are still not sure- chalk it up to some really shitty rum) and I basically informed everyone that I was mad- but then again, how can you be mad without a reason? So perhaps, I was a fugly skankwhore as well.
3. Eddie talked to some kid at Jack in the Crack with the thickest glasses I've ever seen in my life
4. Caitlin didn't pass out at 7:00. Holy shit, another celebratory weed session may be needed to truly commemorate this strange but true moment.
5. And last, the moment you have all been waiting for....the amazing, ravishing, intellectual comments of drunk Steve:
"I'm not going to eat, I'm just going to protect you and Eddie."
To Eddie and Me: "I will defend your honor!" ( we also had to walk on the inside of him on the sidewalk with this comment)
"I don't know how they are doing it, but they are looking up your skirt from a moving car." (this was actually courtesy of Eddie- but it fits in with the ramblings of the previous statement)
"I will not cause shit at Jack in the Box, because the man at Jack in the Box will be cool and see me in a suit and say, 'what a cool guy'."
"No more curly fries!" which was accompanied by a large amount of Matt's fries being scattered throughout Jack in the Box.
Me: "Who are you talking to?"
Steve: "Your mom, she's coming!"
Me: "All the way from Portland?"
Steve: "Yeah, she likes me that much."
"What the fuck are you looking at?" Basically to every motorist who passed by, and to a few pedestrians as well. Oh, and sorry to my roommate and her boyfriend who were bitched out pretty well...considering they were only trying to offer us a ride.
"Fuck, I can't get into a fight because Kon's not here, and you fuckers can't back me up!"
There are quite a few more...some I can't remember (yeah, I was drunk too), some that don't need to be repeated (once again, sorry to everyone who had to hear them), some that were songs accompanied by harmonica (and therefore lose their resonance here) and some that Matt and Eddie may be able to repeat (I don't want to steal all the drunk Steve thunder)
Respectfully Submitted by the Other Drunk Fugly Skankwhore herself,
Melody Rose Feldman (although at some point last night my last name was Song, thanks Matt)