Musical Commentary of Sorts

Something has really been bothering me lately as I do my Internet surfing with the TV on in the background. I really don't watch it, but my mom usually has it on Fuse, a competitor of MTV that I think started in Canada. This initially made me hate Fuse (the Canadian factor), but my hate for MTV is far more serious than my feelings towards canucks.

Anyways, what has been bothering me is this band who unwisely chose to call themselves Death Cab for Cutie. Every time I see this video, I want to hurl. It's pretty much a Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" meets Smashing Pumpkin's "Tonight, Tonight" video (although the song isn't as good as either of those) with a lead singer showcasing his made-for-radio mug in every frame. Besides the fact that the video makes me feel like I might seize, I am angry that this guy thinks he's cool and good-looking enough to brand the video with his stupid face...

I feel like he's advertising his fugliness and this offends me. Don't get me wrong, there are so many fugly rocks stars who aren't douche bags and are actually effing awesome... Iggy Pop, Alice Cooper, Kid Rock (fugly, not awesome), Joey Ramone, The Strokes (sans Fabrizio Moretti), KISS... you get the idea. These guys are fugly, but they have that rock star appeal that makes them "attractive" and cool. Joey Ramone didn't force his face on you; he grew his hair long in a timeless rockin' mess of locks that pretty much always covered his face.

But this guy from DCFC just kills me. He needs to take a hint from Jack White of the famed White Stripes and The Raconteurs and get some greasy hair in his face, opt for the wide shot, and stand in the shadows of the background of band stills. How 'bout Serj Tankian of System of a Down? He plays on his fugliness like a Frank Zappa clone on acid... scare the kids! Do something, just don't pretend that you're pretty when you're not.

My next comment has to do with a hip-hop "band" called Dem Franchize Boyz. The first thing that upsets me is the ebonically-inspired name of the so-called band. All I can say is, "Why?" and "Did you ever learn to read?" I don't need to discuss rap stars' fugliness, because it is a non-issue. I mean 50 Cent can't close his mouth, The Game needs a new eye, and Jermaine Dupri might as well be Gary Coleman's twin. It doesn't matter. There are three good looking rap stars: LL Cool J, Tupac, and Pharrell. One of them is allegedly deceased and the other two are not nearly as popular as Notorious B.I.G. and his lazy eye were.

So "Dem" "Franchize" "Boyz" have a hit song titled "Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It". I saw the video for the first time today and was surprised to see "Dem Boyz" promoting a new "dance" that is strikingly similar to Elaine's dance on Seinfeld. So next time you're "up in da club" you can thrust your body from one side to another without fear of rejection or ridicule from your peers; Dem Franchize Boyz said it's ok.

So here are the lessons I want you to take away from this blog:

Death Cab for Cutie sucks, it's ok to be fugly (but not if you're going to get all fugly in my face), and it is always acceptable and appropriate to dance like a fool to rap music. Did I forget anything?

Check it out.

A Weekend in TAFKAS...

Text messaging is the DEVIL.

So I wanted to see how much my next Sprint bill was going to be now that I am gay for text messaging like I was a little over a year ago. I never used to go over 50 messages, including the ones sent to me, so it was never worth me spending the $5 or whatever it is for unlimited text messaging. Well, now it is.

My next Sprint bill is going to be almost twice as much as it usually is. *sigh* Text messaging, why do I love thee so? I'll tell you why: Text messaging is far less intrusive than a phone call and you never have awkward silences, or a feeling that you have to "catch up" with someone when you just wanted to ask a simple question. If you don't have something to say, you have that option. If you're not quite sure what you want to say, you have time to conger up a proper reply.

On my phone, the text message alert is far less obnoxious than the ringer for the phone, which is a great feature when you have friends in other time zones who like to text you at 5 a.m. MST.

Anyways, I refuse to stop texting. I think when I'm in TAFKAS on Friday I'm going to drop in a Sprint store so I can get treated like shit and have unlimited texting added to my plan. All I need now is one of those sweet phones with a keyboard...

Disturbing comments, Easter eggs

So as usual, I can't sleep and had been thinking yesterday about blogging about some weird things that have been said to me.

This past week, I had a middle-aged couple (like my parent's age) come into Coyote Cantina, order two Stoli martinis, up, with a twist (douches). The the woman says, "Do you know my son, Corey?" I said no, I didn't think so, and she says, "Well, he talks about you all the time. But mostly in his sleep."

Como what? Did I miss a joke somewhere in there? And further, what mother listens to what her son is saying in his sleep? I shook it off, but then while analyzing her comments later, I realized how completely bizarre they were. Then I started thinking, "Who the eff is named Corey besides Haim and Feldman of the famed 80s?" So I have to deduce that either Corey Haim or Corey Feldman are dreaming about me.

A while back, I was asked by the local waitress/bartender stalker, who's name starts with an "N", but I can't remember it for the life of me... Anyways, asked me to bear his children. He also asked me to go "hiking" with him, and by "hiking", I assumed he really meant take me into the forest and dismember me. He also asked another bartender if she would dress up in a cop outfit for him...

Tonight I was told that I should get an agent in Albuquerque and enter into the world of motion pictures. Apparently Albuquerque (a.k.a. The Artist Formerly Known As Steve) is the movie star mecca of the world. So if you're interested in anything to do with the entertainment industry, you need to pack your bags immediately (if not sooner) and move to TAFKAS.

I also have to say I had a BLAST decorating Easter eggs for Sunday with Jeffrey and Donica tonight... How would you like to find an egg with a "sketch" of Judas on it that says, "What would Judas do?" on it, or one with a clever face resembling Mr. Macky from South Park with the phrase, "Drugs are bad, m-kay?" on the reverse side. I don't know which one was my favorite: "Jesus got crunk at Le Bistro," or Donica's gem with a depiction of Jesus on one side that said "Before" and a picture of a ghost on the other side that said "After". The Resurrection rules. Seriously.

It's 3 a.m. Do you know where your bartender is?

Have you ever had a Budweiser-soaked Indian lunge at you, slurring some sort of angry, unintelligible language? If not, you have never liv- I mean bartended in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Tonight was my night to experince this phenomenon.

Tonight was also the night for my boss to be my bouncer, since my normal bouncer was at his wedding reception... on a Tuesday. Fast forward seven hours into the night, I'm out of Sapphire gin, ice, a plethora of other crap, and the bossman is nowhere to be found. "Why," you may ask, "was he not downstairs making sure all was well in the drunken idiot world?" I'll tell you why... he was drunk. I love this bar. It was SO much fun to be on the drunken side of the bar, and even though it's not always fun to be on the bartending side, it almost always gets interesting.

Anyways, I won't bad-mouth the bossman because he really didn't do anything wrong (besides leave me downstairs with a bunch of douchebags*). He also encouraged ME to drink on the job... SUCH a good idea when you tend bar. It really helps with the whole dealing-with-drunk-assholes-who-you-would-never-talk-to-otherwise aspect of the job. So I had a little bit of a dirty martini I made (and made very well, thank you) and was good to go until the drunk Mescalero lunged at me and his 5'4'', 250-pound ladyfriend (and that's a kind physical estimation) had to stop him from assaulting me. Good times.

*I partially blame myself for people thinking I can handle myself against armies of drunk (and often coked-up) patrons... I am sort of a B.

Which one is evil?

So you all know my Help Mate, Jeffrey Wayne Curtis. He's pictured here in a classic Buddy Jesus pose...

We've been buddies/co-workers for some time now and when I left the Dizzle for the LBC back in 2004, Amanda introduced me to a little bar called the Pourhouse right by my old apartment complex and the TTU campus. They have the coldest Miller Lite I think I have ever had the pleasure of drinking and the bitchinest chips and queso of all time. They also have a Jeffrey Wayne Curtis lookalike, pictured below with me (drunk), in a mock Buddy Jesus pose...

This is obviously Jeff's twin, seperated at birth. What I need to know is who's the evil twin? Both have the glasses, which can throw off your evil meter, and both seem to have the ability to grow aggressive facial hair. I don't know the Pourhouse twin's name, but Jeff has three first names, AND his middle name is Wayne, which means he can choose a career as an assassin or serial killer. Hey, at least he's got a choice.

And so do you. Which twin is evil? Let me know on the comments.