so i told the officer, “look i understand that cavity searches are PERFECTLY legal, but i still find three things wrong with this picture…
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so, all KINDS of good concerts on the horizon in austin, texas…chemical brothers…pink…garbage…jewel…no doubt…bush….p.o.d…..stone temple pilots….crystal method…willie nelson….and you know what they all have in common? ME. (and my wonderful company) at some point, i’ll wander into all of them. these are the times i was SO warned about two years ago when i got my job….

“sean”, our v.p. said (he always calls me sean…guess it’s ’cause that’s my name and all), “when a good show is coming to town, you’re gonna notice something. a trend. an UGLY trend. friends you haven’t heard from in FOREVER are gonna call you. often. talking about, ‘how long it’s been’…’we need to hang out’….’i miss us running around together’….and it’s all BULLSHIT. they don’t miss you. they don’t like you. they know the show at the backyard is sold the fuck out, and there is VERY few ways in, and that you, buddy boy, are one of those ways. they think you can snap your fingers and make that kinda shit happen. maybe you can, maybe you can’t. but as far as THOSE weaselly sons-of-bitches are concerned, you CAN’T. no way. no day. no motherfuckin’ how. when your phone goes off, and you think, “damn…been a while since i talked to them; check your eGuide (the list of shows accessible to us tic folk) and see what’s coming up…think about that person’s taste in music…and ask yourself, ‘why did this person pick NOW, two days before the sold out, tickets going for $150 on eBay, system of a down show to rekindle our ‘friendship’?”

valid fucking point. but he forgot one crucial element that blow’s the whole theory the fuck out of the water and ruins it from ever running it’s course. i have no friends.

(just kidding)

actually, i have REAL friends…the kind that don’t ask that of me, and rarely approach me for tickets..and 99% of the time when they do, the requests fall into two distinct categories:

a. totally no problem

or…

b. you gotta be out your motherfuckin’ mind

an example of ‘a’? kramer asked me to see if he could get a SINGLE ticket to a sold out jerry jeff walker birthday show because jerry had announced his special guest would be mr. margaritaville himself, jimmy buffet. but he also said he would PAY for the ticket, he just wanted to still get one even though the show was TOTALLY sold out. while i am FAR from cool (yeah, right!!!) i have cool friends in good places (and we ran into the right one in the VIP section at the fatboy slim show), and kramer ended up front fucking row with only 24 hours notice to the tune of only about $30. all is well. TOTALLY no problem.

now, flash forward a few weeks. somebody who hasn’t called me in SO long she had to call a mutual friend and get my number, calls out of the blue, and keeps leaving, “hey sweetie, call me…..” messages. THREE IN ONE NIGHT!!! knowing she didn’t have my number, and seeing as how she hadn’t called me in over a YEAR, i called the one person i knew she could have gotten it from (and i had no beef with her getting it, as long as it was just for friendship purposes) turns out that even though she already HAD tickets to a show (acquired for free through other means), she wanted to get backstage, and thought i would be the person who could accomplish this for her. could i? couldn’t i? did i? didn’t i? refer to option b, kids…you gotta be out your motherfuckin’ mind.

there are times it is SO nice to be one of the few men on the planet that DOESN’T think with the smaller head. i used 10ga steel to lobotomize that son of a bitch in july of 1996, and have seen through SO much bullshit ever since…concert etiquette part two to follow later…

Replies: 1 Comment

Hey man, can you, like, spot me a Weird Al ticket? Just like old times.. when we started that mosh pit, ya know?.. (sure)

Bubba-corn said @ 04/13/2002 07:55 PM GMT

so, last night, my “sister” kathi and i decided to go out to dinner to seal closed another weekend; we were gonna go to grin’s, but passed joe’s crab shack on the way, decided that sounded better, and cruised in there. after the appetizers, and a couple of drinks, we got our main courses. i ordered the “grilled sampler”, or something to that effect, which had salmon (my favorite fish EVER), shrimp (which i can honestly take or leave, and about split this order down the middle), and crab.

i had never had crab. remember how i went off on kramer for eating craw-fish because they LOOK like what they are? same should apply to crab, except on this i yielded to peer pressure and tried it. always beware of shellfish that come with TOOLS. i mean, a knife, a fork, a spoon…all implements i’m well acquainted with at the dinner table. hell, even chop sticks (which i have since found out are NOT supposed to be used like wooden, “one-pronged” forks) are do-able. but the tool that comes with crab looks like it should say “craftsman” on the side of it. to be honest, i’m not sure that it didn’t.

so, you break ’em off at the joints, crack the shell with the pliers, separate the tendon from the meat with this little girly-ass fork, and then eat the meat. TOO much motherfuckin’ work. i could KILL and COOK something and put forth less effort. i ended up giving about half of it to kathi to finish up, and moved on with my meal. folks, my attitude towards eating out is the same as my attitude towards driving. the less effort, the better. that’s why i prefer automatic transmissions. just highlight the little “D” and GO. don’t get me wrong; i LOVE to cook. and i can do so. well. but i don’t need to work up a sweat just trying to crack open shellfish. i swear, if it had been ME on that island, my volleyball would have been one lonely son of a bitch…’cause i would have left a LOT earlier if it was do this or starve…

Replies: 2 Comments

of course shrimp are like the cockroaches of the sea… and the crabs are the little scavengers… sean, i didn’t want to tell you last night, because i thought that you would make evil comments about my dinner throughout, and i just WASN’T up for that – even after the chardonnay. bitch as though he might, though, gang, i have to tell you that he really was a trooper, and did a pretty good job – didn’t even waste too much of the meat. i was so proud…

kathi said @ 04/01/2002 06:47 PM GMT

you do know that shrimp are like the cockroaches of the ocean?

seafood lover said @ 04/01/2002 06:23 PM GMT

so, it’s easter sunday…that wonderful springtime tradition where good lil’ christians are hauled into church and taught how to be honest, and not worship false idols, and share with others after they’ve spent the earlier part of the morning listening to their parents tell them lies about this bad-ass bunny who left all these eggs on the lawn, and if they don’t go grab all they can someone else will. and most of the confections, when not in the shape of eggs, are in the graven image of the bunny himself.

i’ve never been able to figure out that equation…

“resurrection of lord and savior=eggs+giant rabbit”

at least santa claus KINDA makes sense. i mean, he’s a long-haired, bearded fat guy who gives shit out on jesus’ birthday. if jesus did truly cheat death, (and he is a long-haired bearded guy, coincidentally) he probably would want to live it up a bit. kinda like, “okay…did the starvation, live on the bare minimum, forty days, forty nights, give up all that people give me shit, and look where it got me. fuck this. pass me the pizza…it’s miller time” so after forty or fifty years of bad food, a few beers, and hard living, he’d kinda LOOK like santa (or jerry garcia, but you can’t duck THAT similarity….and thousands of devout folk followed jerry, too…hey….WAIT A MINUTE!!!). and being as how people ALWAYS gave him stuff, he’d have more than he could handle, and would need to give some shit away. so on HIS birthday (seeing if anybody would figure it out with the date coincidence), he goes around and does just that. now THAT makes sense…but EASTER BUNNIES AND EGGS? lemme stew on this for a minute…

so, the resurrection means new life, and nothing symbolizes new life like eggs. bu rabbits don’t lay eggs, they give birth to live young. LOTS of live young, since they tend to fuck a lot. so, where does the egg/rabbit thing come into play? maybe when the other creatures of the woods saw how much action the rabbit was getting, they got kinda jealous and said, “hey rabbit dude…sometimes when you want some, you should just choke your chicken. that way your satisfied, but no more kids”.

problem is, the rabbit misunderstood (since he WAS doing miss rabbit at the time) and thought they said, “choke A chicken”, not “choke YOUR chicken”. so, the rabbit gets his urges hitting hard (in the spring, when easter just HAPPENS to be) and starts choking a chicken. well, the harder he squeezes, the more eggs pop out of the damn thing; and the poor chicken, thinking it’s being mugged, starts handing the eggs to the rabbit in hopes he’ll let go and be cool. well after a few too many times of this, the rabbit has all these eggs to deal with, so he stashes them around the chicken farmers yard. old mcdonald gets up one sunday morning, sees all these eggs all over his yard, and being as how sunday is his ONE day off, convinces his kids to go pick ’em up, and a tradition is born.

don’t laugh…it COULD have happened this way, right? what kind of cigar is this i’m smoking right now, anyway???

Replies: 2 Comments

That might end up being a good fairy tale….

Redhead said @ 04/01/2002 04:44 AM GMT

bet it’s a “cuban-seeded, hand rolled, Dominican-banded” with a label that says….

no cigar said @ 04/01/2002 01:33 AM GMT

i guess it’s all in my delivery, but for some reason those who don’t know me (and quite a few of those who do) will take just about anything i say seriously if i do it in the right tone of voice. i think i honed this skill after high school when i asked a girl to my senior prom, she said, “sure”, and two days later was all in la-la land ’cause this guy chuck asked her to the prom. when i said, “hey; i thought you were going with me”, she replied, “oh, sean…you were serious?” guess sometimes i joke around too much for my own good (and ended up skipping my own prom as a result of it), so i learned how to sound serious when i have to; or when it will make those i deal with more entertaining to me…
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okay, so in a few i’m gonna go grab some chicken and try not to drool on myself…
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ah, the internet…more than just a way to pick up fabulous, perfect, latina women (okay, maybe that one’s just me, but it DID work); more than just a way to “win” purchases on eBay (you know that’s how they hook you, right? you don’t BUY stuff from eBay, you WIN it..you’re a WINNER…perfect marketing…btw, my buyer rating’s up to 84!!!), hell, it’s not even just for cheap cigars, even cheaper pornography, and doing background checks on topless maid services…i mean, babysitters – for you parents out there. it’s also a way to see how much your friends hate you. not just with their comments they put on your web journal that you delete before anyone sees them (not that that’s done HERE, you understand..but i’ve heard of it happening elsewhere), but also with THOSE mails. you know the ones…

“this one REALLY works”

and it’s followed by some, “send this to everyone you know and even some people you don’t and then bill gates will give you part of his fortune”

blow me.

or, “if one day….” followed by some inspirational crap that is usually reserved for the “framed frosted glass” section of a mall christian bookstore.

blow me.

or CHAIN letters. any of them. for any reason. email is NOT gonna give a child a kidney, help an afghan family, or cause you grave misfortune. so…

blow me.

we all get them. usually from relatives; or that sappy co-worker. don’t get me wrong, i can be sentimental at times, and have references to prove it; but i don’t spread it around to everyone on the planet. you know when that shit hits your mailbox, ’cause it has some sappy-assed subject, and when you open it, you can see it’s been forwarded to or through the entire population of the western hemisphere.

blow me.

then, after scrolling through eight and a half pages of other people’s addresses (i start mailing these people and plotting against the person who sent it, ’cause you’ll notice these types don’t just send you one…they’re ALWAYS repeat offenders), you hit some poetic statement about how you’re such a terrific friend…

blow me.

or some sad, sentimental story where the moral is something like, “don’t be like this sad little boy who now never gets to tell his grampa how much he meant to him. too often we take those close to us for granted. learn from his mistakes…”

blow me.

but then they add on, as if to spike the ball, “be a true friend. mail this back to the person who sent it to you, and ten other people, so the circle of friends can grow”. this also comes standard with those “get to know you” email forms you’re supposed to cut, and paste, and blank out your friend’s answers, then bother everyone you know with the answer to the question of the ages, “if you were a cup of yogurt, would you be fruit on the bottom, or fruit swirled in?” i got your fruit RIGHT HERE…

blow me.

i have to quote the end of the TRUE friendship poem that my “sister” kathi sent me the other day, which was pretty damn funny…”AND REMEMBER, A friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body.” the whole poem is available on request, or if you blow me.

(just wanted to try and squeeze that in one more time)

if you like to snack on spinach squares and lemon cactus soda, you should have been with me sunday afternoon. of course, if you prefer to snack on an oreo that had just been used to scrape chocolate sauce and whipped cream off a set of 38DDs that have appeared in hustler magazine on more than one occasion, you should have been with me sunday night. what can i say? i DID remember the sabbath, but i turned it into an astrowhore day instead of keeping it holy. i am SO going to hell for that one, huh? (like that’s new news) and only one week before easter!!!
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03/24/2002: “”

here’s what i don’t understand. if you go into any reputable tattoo studio at 2:30 am and they can see by the look in your eye that you’ve been drinking, they WON’T do anything with you. your money is NO good there. so why is it that a reputable (if there is such a thing) porno shop can’t have the same policy? you end up waking up to some funky stuff in your vcr. but i’m getting WAY ahead of myself here, so let’s move on and get back to this later…

the day at a glance….outta bed and couch meat by 10:00…meat delivered to couch (fried chicken..but it WAS delivered) around noon, then off to san marcos, then the office, la zona, and the hockey stadium (if any of this sounds abundantly fun, keep in mind i WAS working); post-game, and junior and i were supposed to go eat. then josh joined in. then iris. all of a sudden we’re a gang of four on a quest for chinese…we arrive at 9:57, which i don’t sweat because i called and they said the place closed at 10:30…which is TECHNICALLY true. but they list their buffet hours as being done at 10:00, so rolling in iris-free at 9:57, with her joining in about ten minutes later, and all of a sudden my “WHT STN” licence plates are fitting once again in the eyes of the asian staff and latino cooks of the place. good to keep a theme alive, i suppose.

“are you finished?”
“need your check now?”
“we’re about to break down the buffet, so if you want anything more, like DESSERT or something, you’ll wanna grab it NOW”
“are you finished?”
“need your check now?”
“can i get your plate?”
“are you all paying together or separate?”
“are you finished?”
“need your check now?”

this was the extent of what we heard, echoing the first two lines over and over and over again. hint taken, margaret cho…we’re outta here.

(yes, i know maragret cho is korean…it was a joke…just not a very good one)

then it was off to slick willie’s for pool and booze. things felt a bit odd though, since only josh and i participated 100% in this plan….junior doesn’t drink, and iris doesn’t play pool. chose the joint ’cause at jim’s bachelor party we saw our buddy rich for the first time in years and he told us he managed the place. i go, but he’s not there…he switched locations. then i realize that jim and katy just celebrated their one year anniversary, and now i realize i need to keep better track of my friends. so after an hour of the LONGEST games of eight ball EVER, the group splinters and i end up down on sixth street, which can be summed up this way….

the crown and cokes are better at slick willie’s than they are at touche’s but nothing compared to the ones at casino el camino. and this sums up the 12:00-2:00am slot of my night. which brings us back to the beginning line of this little entry. and if porn references get any of you guys (or girls) all revved up for some hot, naked action with my friend kimberly, the porno-slut in training, understand that only ONE of the readers of this page gets to experience it, because it turns out she’s NOT single (oops), and her boyfriend is a loyal astrowhore reader (too loyal, actually…he actually TRIED the raspberry frappuccino…but anyone who finds me entertaining enough to stop by here often is okay by me) so he’ll be the only one who gets to have hot kimberly thoughts when i bring up porn from now on. but now for what’s REALLY scary…

i actually saw it. i couldn’t believe it, but it exists.

midget clown anal porn tapes – “lil’ bozo’s big top booty romp”

unbefuckinleivable.

the shit i buy when i’ve been drinkin’.

here’s what’s scary…that’s the one on the entertainment center. but the receipt clearly states that i took advantage of the “2 for $14.99” special. (did you honestly expect that to be an expensive title??) the other one is still in the vcr. i am WAY too mortified to push play at this point. i think i’m just gonna pawn the vcr with the tape in it and never look back, ’cause i can’t find the case. and this, my faithful readers, is why they need to check your BAC (blood alcohol content) at the door of any adult video store. although i guess if they did, this shit wouldn’t sell…why do i have a feeling this will get me NO “give till it hurts” donations, but more than a fair share of comments?

Replies: 3 Comments

Sean, you know I love you and all but I think a guy with an electric car has a better chance of getting laid by me than someone who actually owns midget clown anal porn. This is why we’re just friends.

Kimberly said @ 03/25/2002 11:27 PM GMT

josh, you little shit, i didn’t WANT to look in my vcr, but you made me, and here’s what i found:

“tie me up, tie me down, flip a coin, spin me ’round (like a record)”

bondage porn featuring quadriplegic hermaphrodites. don’t worry folks, i’m NOT proud of this…

sean said @ 03/25/2002 03:51 PM GMT

if i wasn’t afraid of clowns [or midgets] before, i certainly am now. and i haven’t even viewed the…ahem…”film”. things like that should not be allowed. i still want to know what the other tape is.

josh said @ 03/25/2002 04:08 AM GMT

okay, so before you skip ahead on this one (like each and every one of you doesn’t hang on my EVERY word, right? stroke the ego…stoke the ego…hey wait…that’s not my ego…damn cinemax…but i digress) know that i own a mountain bike, and am currently piecing together the 20″ bike of my teenage dreams with modern components slowly but surely (i’m immature like that sometimes); the bottom line is, i’m a bike (as in bicycles…but motorcycles, too…the latter of which has nothing to do with this piece, however) kinda guy. but you know what the difference between me and a lot of the morons out there is? when i’m on my bike, i’m on a BIKE.
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