METAL

Honestly, when you're a kid, what is the most awesome thing ever? Limousines. And possibly Slayer. We just decided to combine the two, that's all.



THE CEILING WAS MIRRORED


THERE WERE LITTLE PLASTIC STRANDS WITH LIGHTS ON THE END OF THEM


This is how McGill figures one drinks Champagne while riding a limo to a metal concert.


Murph hears metal, limo-surfs, accidentally stops the CD.

STRETCHCURSION

OMG, look who's here! It's Teebz.

Here it appears that Pierce and I are judging Teebz' shotgunning abilities. Pierce: upper half. Me: lower half.

We do not know this guy, but he's wearing a shirt that looks like Teebz.


If I had seen my wrist when I was 15, I wouldn't have believed it. VIP for Slayer?!? As an aside, no advantage was taken of the VIP status, unfortunately. No tour buses, no ladies. Sigh.


Stage on fire. Lower left: dude with wicked farmer tan/tribal.


The traditional greeting at a Slayer concert.

Old people.

A Quick Recap of THE MOST ANNOYING NIGHT IN HISTORY

1. While rehanging a menu board, I knocked this plaster Alka-Selter demon off a ledge and onto my coworker's forehead. No concussion, probably.


Promptly thereafter, the soda gun stopped working.


While trying to fix it, barback slices his finger open and has to go to the emergency room to get stitches. We get to pour mixers out of two-liter bottles for the rest of the night.

Approximately an hour later, credit card processing ceases to function. Cut to me making obscene gestures at the registers multiple times, to no avail. For approximately 45 minutes operations cease because PEOPLE DON'T CARRY CASH. We break out these things


which are old-timey. Bonus: no tip line! Then McGrillz figures out how to fix it.

One Week: MULTIPLE POSTS

Today is a hodgepodge, largely because I have these three unrelated pictures and not very much interest in relating them.

Exhibit 1: Customer pays, I am on board with this. Joe shoves his head in the corner for good measure.


The Pug is a true neighborhood bar. How can I say this, you ask? It's only been open for a couple years!! I argue that the presence of an IOU in a bar constitutes neighborhoodiness. And there's one, right behind the apparition, stuck to the bell.

31 years later, I get my first pair of cowboy boots. Now I have to get jeans that can accompany them. These citified jeans I've been wearing are not gonna hack it.

I Always Knew My Distaste for X-Men Would Come Back To Haunt Me (+Klay?)

So we went to Maryland somewhere yesterday (to get there: Take a right on New Hampshire Ave and keep going forever) to hang out with Ana's sister and her two boys. Here's the one, who opened the afternoon with a little quiz for yours truly:

Outside, afternoon.

Me: Hi

Kid: Hi what are you doing here

Me: I'm here with your Aunt to hang out with your mom.

Kid: Ok. Do you like X-Men?

Me: (LYING) Sure

Kid runs to get some action figures, brings them back.

Kid: What's your name?

Me: Scott

Kid: Ok you'll be Scott (holds up the super-lame X-Man with the laser eyes or whatever).

Me: (BUMMED) Ok

Kid holds up a blue X-Man.

Kid: This is Beast.

Me: Yeah

Kid holds up another X-Man.

Kid: Who is this?

Me: (Immediately pissed that the kid has sensed my lack of knowledge about and general dislike for his favorite things ever) Uh, I dunno.

Kid: (Disgusted) Ugh. CoLOssus.

I walk over to Ana and her sister and sit down.

Scene.


The thing about me and certain things, like the X-Men and the Princess Bride, is that I don't like them. For no reason, really, other than that I decided not to like them somewhere along the way. The X-Men, I figure, is basically just Harry Potter with adults; I don't like Harry Potter, so ipso facto etcetera ergo proctor hoc I don't like X-Men.

Which isn't a big deal until a kid challenges you on it and you lose.


You know who didn't quiz me about kid stuff? This one, who is basically a painting by a Dutch Master.


Bonus: Cat pouting under a stool


and three adult males wearing Mickey Mouse shirts.

Blays: The Return of the Blay

Int., a bar. A woman who has purchased the same drink twice using cash ($6) returns for a third time.

Woman: Hi! Can I have another?

Me: Sure.

I make the drink and set it in front of her.

Me: $6.

Woman: I only have $5. Makes gritting-teeth face. Can I---?

I take drink back.

Me: Doesn't really work that way. Come on back when you get $6.

Woman lets out maniacal laugh.

Woman: HAHAHAHAHAHA I KNEW THAT WOULD HAPPEN HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I JUST KNEW IT

Scene.

Purchase!

Am presently purchasing my first-ever pair of cowboy boots:



Lucchese 1883 style what

BEHOLD THE LONGEST BLOG POST IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD WIDE WEB SLASH I AM BACK

In retrospect, it seems my obsession with Jeff G was really just a ploy to give people something to read while I didn't post for six weeks. Did it work? Probably. Also, look at his most recent gem (IT'S LIKE A MOVIE!!)!

But anyways. I've been very busy going to work on some days and still waiting for the Bronco I bought seven years ago to be street-legal (actually just five months), which might happen this month? Things have been happening, like one guy drove it out to another guy in Sterling where they pulled out the engine and machined it. For those of you not in the know, you might think the previous sentence is redundant (on account of how an engine IS a machine, so how can it be "machined?" But don't worry, "machining" is really just a fancy word for "fixing." Rednecks, I've found, don't really like to make up new words so they just use the same ones in different ways. (Hence carburator.)

Really I'm just excited because Patso gave me this carwarming gift.


Speaking of Peter Cetera, dunno if everyone knows about his semi-ongoing feud with his Twitter awesomepersonator/impersonator (@PeterCetera/me), which generally includes strangers saying nasty things. Here's a few good ones:

@indonesiatogo (aside: I wonder if this name is "Indonesia To Go" or "Indonesia Togo"? It really could be both, as neither makes sense. How do I get a country to go? What relationship do Indonesia and Togo have with each other?) sez: @petercetera is a dipshit @tweetercetera is the real deal.

I'm pretty sure he doesn't know either person, so his judgement seems pretty hasty.

@KennyCetera (FOR REALS PETER CETERA HAS A BROTHER WHOSE NAME IS KENNY AND IS A SINGER OF SOME SORT--warning--do not listen if you do not want to be sad) sez: @PeterCetera you're an idiot RT Find out who he is and pubslish his personal info. No wait, he wants the attention.

@Worm0082(!) sez: @PeterCetera SCUMBAG!

And finally, my favorite:

@cidaliacastro sez: @PeterCetera JERK. Burn in hell, mutherfucker.

Ms. Castro damns @PeterCetera TO HELL. Seems a pretty stiff punishment for essentially making a celebrity appear way more interesting than he really is. Cross reference one of Peter Cetera's (whose handle is @tweetercetera, for serious) actual recent Twitter posts (Out here in the high desert with bro and all the girls...Well folks, certainly no rain here but my bro hoped I'd brind some.It's dry bye.pC) with one of @PeterCetera's: Sometimes a warm two-handed handshake is a suitable replacement for a hug. Other times, you just need to put on "You're the Inspiration." COME ON NO CONTEST
Whew. Writing about Twitter is annoying.

In other news, a person down the street planted a banana tree, adding sand at the base as if the tree would get tricked into thinking it was in the tropics. This tree is dying a slow death.


In the "Things that Gross Me Out That Really Aren't That Gross" category, this unopened can of tuna somebody left at work.


We saw Sonic Youth last week. They're old, yes, but they haven't started wearing studded belts and lamé t-shirts. That said, it wasn't the best show I've ever seen, but it was still enjoyable. Their catalog is big enough that they could play probably 200 songs I've never even heard. Which was the case this time. Requisite bad picture:


For those of you who don't live in DC, the Real World has deigned to film a season here! We're in 23rd place, just after Cancun! Here is a picture of a boom mic that I almost ran into when trying to get lunch the other day:


Your stimulus tax dollars at work: take a dog park and turning it into a dog park WITH GRADED HILLS AND LANDSCAPING! $1 million.


Ana's stupid cat is terrifying, BTW.


This is very old but I still want one.

I KNEW the ladies had some particular length of eyelash that they used to seduce me!!!!!!!!


Remember when I posted every time I went to dinner?


Last month Ana went to California and I went to Atlantic City to play cards with this drunk Bruce Dern impersonator.


I HAVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR TRANSFAT-FREE CRABBERS WITHOUT ANY TRANSFAT


Sparkling wine!


Sold the old bike.

July 4th=canned beer.

Smile.

Everyone May Now Relax, Exhale, Take a Load Off, Recline, Repose, Rest, Simmer Down

Jeff "Cognoscente" G. has become Jeff "Truculent" B. Many thanks to Owen for somehow finding this.



Whew. He will from now on be known as Jeff B Nee G.

THE WORST, MOST TROGLODYTE, INANE, ASININE, CORNSWAGGLED, OBSTETRITIOUS DAY IN HISTORY

Jeff G. has been BANNED. For what, you ask? For "violating" something Yelp! calls its "terms of service," whatever that means. I'm guessing that their terms of service must preclude its members from being AWESOME.


So what do we do, people? We do what those Boy Scouts did in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington: write hundreds of letters that Jeff G. can present at the Senate hearing on his banishment. Below is a form letter that you can cut and paste for yourself:

Dear Yelp!,

I am a PERTURBED Yelp! citizen. Why, you ask? I'll EDIFY, ENLIGHTEN, and ENDUE you: you have banned the best reviewer on Yelp!, that's why. Jeff G., of Washington, DC, has BEQUEATHED the most EXCEPTIONAL, FAVORABLE, FIRST RATE, GNARLY, GRATIFYING reviews to us, his readers, over the past few months.

Please, Yelp!. Do not take Jeff G. away from us. You are our only hope.

Signed,

[You]

Now head here and make this travesty go away.

New Blay! Miscommunication Edition

Int., a bar.

Guy orders a Long Island Iced Tea ($7.50), hands me a twenty dollar bill.

Me: $7.50.
Guy: Can I get $13 back?
Me: No.

Scene.


Int., a bar.

Bro: Can we get four Car Bombs?
Me: Sorry, man. We don't do bombs. (Not a lie--Ed.)
Bro: What?
Me: We don't do Car Bombs.
Bro: What, are you Catholic?

Scene.