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January 26, 2006
Tasty Jewels
* Holy shit, did anyone else almost get blown away and/or completely frozen to death yesterday here in DC? It's probably the only time I envy what these poor women have to wear. I would seriously wear a burqa when heading to my office and just kinda run (or maybe skip) when it's that cold and windy. No one would know it was me unless, of course, they saw a baseball cap on top of my burqa or they heard my iPod blaring Eminem beats. I find his music helps make me walk faster. Try it sometime. Listen to "Without Me" and see if you don't walk exactly to the beat. Sometimes I even find myself making hand gestures to the lyrics while wearing my skull cap. Occasionally, I'll smack a ho or bitch (but it's rare).
Speaking of, after my rant yesterday, I realized I had left my skull cap at my office so I frrrrrrrooooze my ears off while walking to work. I think the folks at Creme had something to do with it. Someone probably tipped them off about what I said and they hired someone to fuck with me. I think I know who it was too.
* Last summer I mentioned on this blog that I got a case of VD swimmer's ear while at Rehoboth Beach. I tried a few things to get rid of it but nothing really worked. I figured it would go away eventually. After a month of it still bugging me, I went to the doctor. He "irrigated" my ear. Man, was that annoying. He kept putting loads of water in my ear. It didn't seem to work so he prescribed some ear drop medicine. I used it a couple times and it seemed to finally clear up.
Well, now it's back. I don't know how but it is. I went back into our medicine cabinet, grabbed a bottle of the drops and used it again. It kinda stung and didn't seem to work. I got concerned. Was this the same stuff I used before? I Googled the name of the medicine I loaded my ear up with and it turns out it was Rob's prescription eye drop medicine. My ear is red and sore but at least I can now see out of it!
* I overheard some overweight male manager from Safeway say to some other guy (while they were smoking outside), "I haven't even seen my kitchen since I got married." Then he chortled. I thought, well you may not have seen the kitchen but you sure have seen what's in it, haven't cha? He followed up with, "And she knows she better keep it that way if she wants to stay married." Dick.
* I usually hibernate in the winter. I guess I really am kinda bear-like or am I cub-like? How old does one have to be to graduate to another animal label? Or does it all depend on muscles and weight?
We really should try and get out more. We rarely ever go out to bars but there are a few we wouldn't mind going to once in awhile just to socialize with fellow human beings. No JR's or Cobalt though. Way too smoky.
Anyway, we WILL be at the 9:30 Club for the next Blowoff event cuz it's 2 days after the celebration of our birth. I might accidentally get a little crazy. You won't want to miss that.
Don't forget, Bob! Bring Liz too. And Dean Coulter please. :-)
Posted by durban bud at 6:00 AM | Comments (6)
January 24, 2006
Baseball Caps
So last night I went to dinner with Joe to discuss life, drama, why January seems to be the worst month of the year, and the pros and cons of the latest Raging Stallion video. We walked down U Street to find a decent place to eat and shoot the shit. We decided on a restaurant in the "new, cool, U Street corridor" called Creme or, as I now like to refer to it, Suck My Balls Diner. There was hardly anyone in the restaurant at the time we walked by it so we thought it would be perfect. Joe had been there before and said it was good.
We walk in. The staff is friendly and seats us at a lovely small table. I was dressed in jeans with a long sleeve shirt and a T-shirt over top of it and, of course, a baseball cap. It's cold in DC now (obviously) so I usually wear a skull cap to cover my sensitive, li'l ears. Because of this, my hair was a disaster so a baseball cap was definitely in order after I took off my winter cap when we arrived in the door. Joe is also dressed in jeans and a button up shirt. He also wore a skull cap until the hostess offered to seat us. He had no baseball cap because, well, he has no need for one.
The waiter immediately comes over cuz no one else is there yet, introduces himself and takes our drink orders. Later, we order a couple appetizers and sit there for awhile and talk.
We get our appetizers and order entrees. The small place starts filling up with a few more people. As we are enjoying our appetizers, a petite young woman approaches me.
"Hi," she says. "Can you please remove your cap?" Excuse me? "Are you serious?" I asked, completely taken off guard. "Yes," she insists. What the fuck. Um, is someone about to sing the National Anthem or something, I thought. Or is Nelson Mandela on his way here to be honored this evening? "But I've been wearing a skull cap all day so my hair looks scary." "Sorry, sir." Yeah, me too, bitch.
I am humiliated. I felt like I was on the Waltons and Daddy just yelled at me for eating at the dinner table with a hat on while he was saying grace. Mostly, I felt like John Boy's mole, as if everyone were staring at it while pretending not to notice.
It's winter time and I need a haircut really bad. I don't have long hair at all. I mean, the hair I do have I usually keep very, very short but it's January and I've been lazy so it's kinda scraggly looking.
It wasn't so much the fact that I had stepped into a pretentious restaurant with a "no hats" rule (although a "dress code" was not listed anywhere); it was the fact that they did not tell me this when I got there. There were tons of staff members and virtually no patrons when we arrived and we had been there a good twenty minutes. Perhaps that would have been an ideal time to let me know that my baseball cap was a big no-no instead of waiting for us to order expensive food with several more people now at their tables. I guess my T-shirt and jeans (with a few holes in them) were just peachy though.
I comply with Nellie Oleson and remove my hat. I look worse than ever. Now, I look like the Unabomber dressed like a gay Kurt Cobain. I could have gone to the bathroom to "primp" but I was pretty pissed so if I scared a few people away, too bad. Plus, I'm just not that good at styling my hair. If I do it myself, I end up looking like Squiggy from Laverne & Shirley. I'm no meterosexual. (I also can't shave my head completely cuz I just don't make an attractive bald guy. Some guys can pull it off but not me. I shaved it off myself one day and scared everyone including the beagle we were taking care of at the time. He began to shiver uncontrollably when he saw me).
In defense of Creme, the food was good and the atmosphere was pleasant. However, the experience left a bad taste in my mouth (ba-da-boom). We ate really fast so Joe and I could get the hell out of there and go somewhere else that wasn't quite so judgmental about wearing hats in the fucking winter. We were still friendly with the staff (even Nellie Oleson) and tipped our waiter nicely.
I wear baseball caps a lot. I always have ever since I was a kid. It's second nature to me. Some of my friends get annoyed because they think I look better without them. Some also might say I wear them a lot to hide a receding hairline or balding or avoiding growing up. Maybe I am, subconsciously, but I do it cuz I always have and I like them. My dad does the same thing. He wears them all the time and he still has a good head of hair. In fact, he collects baseball caps (yeah, that's a bit more than I would do but whatever floats your boat) and he's, like, in his 60's.
Of course, I don't wear them all the time, especially at some formal business meetings, certain upscale events, or, of course, sex in a hot tub, etc. But if I am paying you for a meal (or Joe is), don't bug me with silly clothing requests when I have been there for awhile.
Some also might say that a guy in his mid-30's shouldn't be wearing them at all. Fuck that. I agree some things look silly on guys over 30 but, mentally, I am still only 24 so I will continue to do so if it makes me happy and I don't look or feel completely retarded.
I ain't gonna worry about it. I just won't go back there (except maybe in drag). Wouldn't that be funny? I guarantee you, I would make an ugly woman and be scarier than the Unabomber. THEN what would they say?
Posted by durban bud at 1:11 PM | Comments (15)
January 17, 2006
Office Space
I think I mentioned a while back that I had acquired some office space. I did this so I could a). Get the hell out of the house and act like normal working people do and b). I could spark some sort of creative drive so I could keep doing what I was doing cuz I was getting fuckin' bored.
After about 4 months of making no progress, I decided to finally move (thanks to Suitcase Sally, the Swan, the wife and myself) to my office space.
I have rented a room in an office building. How fucking depressing is a real office building. I realize most of you do this everyday and god bless you. Flourescent lights and light blue painted walls? I am in "Working Girl" only no one is getting me coffee. And where the fuck is Harrison Ford? Every guy here looks like Dorothy's ex-husband, Stan, from the Golden Girls.
Luckily, I got to paint my office and I use 2 lamps to avoid the hell that is called flourescent lighting. It looks good now. It's quaint and earthy. And it serves its purpose. I don't have to interact with anyone; I'm just the weird new guy down the hall with his door always shut (and who doesn't shave all that much).
Poughkeepsie Girl also works down the hall renting much bigger space so that makes me happy as well (except when she bangs on my door to tell me that Angelina is pregnant with Brad Pitt's baby). Thanks, but I don't really care. Just get me some coffee. Cream and sweet 'n low. Or Splenda if they don't have the pink stuff.
Remember that chick, Daria, from that old MTV show? I think I found her. She's the receptionist at this place. She acts like Debbie Downer. She's one of those people when you ask how they are doing they say, "Uggghhhhh. Things could be better." I always walk away and say, "Well have a great day!"
Anyway, I walk to my little space each morning. As I do, I pass by a group of Hispanic men who congregate in front of a paint store to do work for anyone who wants them. It is a very sad sight. When a vehicle pulls up, they all run like crazy to get the job. I wish I was this excited to work. I mean, they freak out when potential work comes their way. Could you imagine bubbling in your panties just to make a fax for someone? Certainly not Daria.
Life is weird.
Posted by durban bud at 5:56 PM | Comments (5)
January 16, 2006
Frosted Mini-Wheats
While everyone was out enjoying a hot and naughty MAL/Blowoff weekend and my selfish heart was breaking into a million little pieces, I was contemplating my one and only barf story from school.
In middle school and high school, we used to have to do those annual state exams to see how many sit-ups, push-ups, squat thrusts, etc. we could do within a minute during gym class. Phys Ed was my first class of the day during 7th grade.
I always did pretty well on these exams. I used to be really skinny. In fact, I used to take supplements to try and gain weight during my later schooling. Wow, seems like years ago. Then I discovered that if you truly want to gain weight just take an affection for beer. Works like a charm.
I finished class and went to second period which was my math class. I sat behind a girl with a big nose who always dreamed of being a figure skater. After sitting at my desk for a few minutes, I felt very nauseous. I put my hand over my mouth and tried to avoid any thoughts of puking. This CANNOT happen right now. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Think of something else. Ignore it. Think of boobies. Think of economics. Think of math, for Christ’s sake. Little sounds started speaking from my belly. Figure skater turned around and smiled at my embarrassing noises; I smiled back. It all happened so fast. If I could have left the room in time, I would have. Then. It let loose. Frosted, Mini, And Wheat all made their big performance debut.
I lost it. Big time. Frosted mini-wheats spilled all over me. Everyone looked at me. One of the single most embarrassing moments I can ever remember. Luckily, I had a friendly math teacher. He told everyone to leave the room immediately. The kids ran out the door and I remember several of them turning around pointing, staring and laughing at me.
I didn't know what to think or do. I sat there just covered in my own breakfast. I felt and looked like Carrie only instead of blood; I was covered in Frosted-Mini Wheats with 2% milk added into the mix.
The good news was I got to leave school for the rest of the day. I also got to stay home the next day so I guess it wasn't THAT bad. (I did also barf in church while singing, "He Lives, Christ Jesus Lives Today," but I'll save that story for another day).
As bad as it was, I learned to masturbate for the first time while I got to spend time away from school (yeah, I know, I was a late bloomer). But remember, the Lord does work in mysterious ways. ;-)
So when you're feeling down and sad, just remember the other times in your life which were far worse and you'll be able to get through those newer "not-so-good" moments.
That is my Dr. Durban tip of the day. I'm here to help.
Posted by durban bud at 1:16 PM | Comments (8)
January 11, 2006
Turleen
I got my mom the Trailer Trash Turleen doll for X-mas. They were spending the holidays with my sister and family in Colorado, so I thought I would give her one little gift to open while she was there, so she wouldn't have to pack and cart back other presents I would have sent. I chose to send her Turleen.
I called my sister's place X-mas morning to wish them all a happy and joyous Pagan celebration.
After my sister gave me a lecture about making fun of white trash, my mom got on the phone and told me she had opened the gift. She then mumbled (so the kids couldn't hear) just what the hell it was. I told her it was doll. She said, "I know that, but I cannot play this in front of the kids." I'm like, "First off, lose the muffled voice; we're not discussing money laundering. Secondly, she is not the Bride of Chucky; Turleen doesn't say anything nasty, really. I'm thinking, just wait until my oldest nephew opens his Eminem's greatest hits CD. I told her to go to the bathroom and listen to what Turleen has to say if you have to be so secretive. Pretend you're doing a bump, Mom.
Of course, my mom loved it. It was a great conversation piece as I knew it would be. Even Ms. "Making fun of Trashy People is Not Very Nice" invited some of her neighbors over to witness the beauty of the trailer trash doll.
Here's the best part: I knew my mom would have to pack Turleen for the trip home. Well, every which way she would pack Turleen, the doll would start talking. She said she wouldn't shut up. She kept repeating, "Bubba Junior, get off your sister." She said it took almost a half an hour to get her in the proper position so she wouldn't speak.
As they were carrying the suitcase through the airport, my mom said Turleen would start speaking or laughing or burping while they were walking down the halls. Both of my parents were mortified. As soon as Turleen seemed to shut up, she would yell, "Pour me a double, I'm drinkin' for two." My parents (who are so conservative looking) sat in their seats waiting to board the plane while their suitcase continued to speak and burp occasionally.
Do something sweet for your family for a change. Whether it's their birthday or Flag Day, Turleen is the gift of a lifetime.
Posted by durban bud at 12:24 PM | Comments (6)
January 5, 2006
Trash
* So my mom was asking me for some ideas for christmas gifts this year, I told her we needed a large trash can. She asked me to send her a link to one that I liked. I told her I would check to see what Target had and get back to her. Well, I forgot; my mom didn't. She called and emailed me that she needed to know which one to order ASAP cuz she was going out of town. She leaves a message on the answering machine, "T, I need to know now!" She always calls me "T" and for some reason she seems to shout it. When she's upset with me, it's like a jet taking off (only in a southern accent). "Teeeeeeeeeee!" I've gotten used to it.
Anyway, I immediately send her a link to a large trash can from Target. In my haste to choose something, I have ordered a Touch-Free Trash Can. I did not realize it came with this feature. This, my friends, is the epitome of laziness. She orders it. She bought a Roomba for me last christmas (which I DID NOT ask for but have takin' a liking to) and now a touch-free trash can. She must really think I'm lazy.
It arrives via UPS. The trash can is nice and definitely holds a shitload of garbage which we seem to accumulate a ton of. I'm not sure how this happens. There are only two of us so I don't know where it all comes from.
Anyway, you hold your hand in front of it and it opens (and makes a little noise). After, a few seconds, it closes. It's very Oscar the Grouch. This sounds all nice and everything but....the problem is everytime you walk by it, it opens, as if to say, "Perhaps you need to throw yourself out or, at least, that shirt you bought from Universal Gear two years ago."
We had a small get-together a couple weeks ago. One of our friends was standing in front of the can with his back towards it while he was having a conversation with someone. A bunch of us were viewing this spectacle from afar because the can kept opening and closing during their whole conversation. It was as if the trash can was having a conversation with his ass. It was hysterical.
Can't wait to see what Mom gets me next year.
* Gene Shalit needs to retire and then shave. If you did not like "Brokeback Mountain," that's fine, but his review I saw this morning smacked of homophobia. He suggested Jack was a sexual predator. Huh? Cuz he loved a guy who he knew loved him back but just couldn't show it the same way? He wasn't predatory at all. I guess when a man pursues a woman in a film (ya know, by sending her postcards and suggesting they can share a life together) he should be labeled a sexual predator. Mr. Shalit, I hope you get warts.
* Letterman was brilliant with Bill O'Rielly the other day. I was actually watching it when Letterman went off on him. I've never seen him do that before. Good for him. Go here to watch it.
* I need to make some changes to this site I think. Not sure what to do. Did anyone upgrade to Moveable Type 3.2 yet? Is it worth the upgrade?
* Be good.
Posted by durban bud at 12:12 PM | Comments (4)
January 3, 2006
Mama Cass
Fat jokes can be funny. They're like gay jokes. One or two may cause a giggle but that's about it. It's an easy way to get a quick laugh cuz it's still acceptable to make fun of fats and gays. That's why Letterman & Leno do "Brokeback Mountain" jokes every fucking night. The writers are running out of clever writing.
And aiming fat jokes at gay men is just a sin. I think it's in the Bible. I believe it's in the Book of Luke, Chapter 12-14, Verse 34-35 or something close to that. It says something like, "and those one in teneth who possess such fabulousity and hot muscle bearishness shall never be made aware of any physical flaws regarding belly protrusion for it is an abomination unto the Lord, 'mmm'kay? And can I get an amen?). We're already insecure about our looks and life enough (even if we have 6% body fat).
Went to a New Year's small gathering with some friends. Joe was the host and it was wonderful. Bob came over and my Rob. Joe also invited Wayland Flowers & Madame a gay couple we did not know. They were, um, lovely.
I made an innocent little joke in front of everyone that I had gained a few pounds during the holidays and my mid-section had now made me resemble Mama Cass and that I need to hit the gym hard if I am to make it to MAL in a couple weeks. It was a fucking silly joke. Wow, was that a mistake. First off, my apologies to the Cass family. I meant no disrespect. I enjoy poking fun at myself also. I'm a good sport. If I can dish it out, I can take it (especially when I know what they are saying isn't that extreme; I may be beefy but I ain't fat).
Well...we decided to have a bite to eat around Joe's dinner table and then play games there. He bought his dinner chairs from a relatively new furniture store in DC called Muleh a couple years ago. Muleh has freaky furniture. Sorry, it may appeal to some but not for me. That's irrelevant though. Joe purchased four dinner table chairs from that store. Only one chair from the set still exists to this day. Of course, who do you think broke the 3rd one? Yep, I made my Mama Cass joke and sat down in the motherfuckin' Muleh chair. This is what I and everyone else heard next: "CRRRRRRRUNNNNNNNNCH." Joe. My. God. Is this really happening to me? I mean, I'm not fat. The holiday weight gain is not THAT bad; now I'm thinking it is BAD! I'm breaking fucking chairs with my heavy body weight (and also oddly humming "California Dreamin" as I fall to the ground)! I am Chris Durban Bud Farley. Or so I now think.
Joe informs me that two of the other Muleh chairs have also broken recently from other "non heavy" people. He can't take them back or call the place to complain because the chairs were purchased on his ex's credit card. Well, I will complain. In fact, I will never shop there. I know some of you have bought things there and I do appreciate their uniqueness but would you sit on a couch that looks like a bird's nest.
We decide to start the DVD movie game (which I think I'm gonna kick everyone's ass at). I should have made sure all movies featured in the questions were post 1980. I'm sorry, I don't know old movies.
The game was not the point; the incessant fat jokes littered throughout the entire game and visit (for that matter) were the point. And they came from that couple I had just met!!! They were relentless. I can poke fun at myself; I usually do on this blog. You can poke fun at me, a lot of people do (which is fine if it is funny and clever); I will laugh but after 20 of the same type of jokes from a couple guys I just met, I probably will stop laughing. If, after fat joke #21, you can't say something witty then you really need to hang up your New Year's Eve comedian shoes. "According to Jim" is funnier than the same one-liners they were throwin' at me. The others that were there can confirm this. They agreed enough was enough (although no one said a word, I guess that would make it even more uncomfortable).
I played along and tried to fake laugh at every single one of their jokes. I asked Joe if he had any ham sandwiches to serve the lovely couple. Unfortunately, he was all out. Finally, the game ended and the sweet couple left. I'm sure these guys are very nice (except to me) and I'm sure they would be awesome to hang out with.
The rest of us had an enjoyable time. Seriously, we did, until, of course, we saw Dick Clark. I'll just leave it at that. After seeing that, you can joke about me all you want. He's a real trooper for going out there in public so I have nothing to complain about.
But I will find something.
Posted by durban bud at 5:43 PM | Comments (6)