We hit and run.

I have always been a self-proclaimed king of pillow-talk - never really a big 'dirty talker' though. I keep it positive, there's loads of laughter. The Simpsons references ('This shirt is chafing me...'), the subtle hints for moisture ('It's like a desert in here...')- the stories are mythical, my personality and its sense of humor run a muck between the sheets. I'll never forget the time my Simpsons reference was taken literally:

Oh man, now my pants are chafing me..."
'Well, then why don't you just loosen them?"

Quite a bit of time was spent explaining the episode where Bart's older crush (voiced by that one woman from Roseanne) and Bart's bully were on the Simpson couch, and the bully was conning the clothes off of himself to steal bases with Roseanne actress voice, a lot more time than was spent selfishly thrusting.

I'm never more comfortable than in a sexual situation. There was a night in Massachusetts where I sung the entirety of Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' holding a woman on top of me, severely limiting my vocal abilities. One of the major highlights of my teenage years- the 'relationship' barely lasted a month.

The overnight gig is treading along nicely. It is the ideal job for having visitors, a very independent occupation where you do your work and head out. I love a job where a girlfriend can visit and you can finish your work as if there was never a distraction.

Since moving to Vegas, one of the major highlights has to be the nights spent attending karaoke at the House Of Blues. Every Monday night at the Mandalay Bay's HOB, a live band hosts a night of karaoke- a set list containing the typical Cure and the expected Billy Idol, along with some obscurer Michael Jackson songs. We've gone maybe three or four times, but the memories themselves are timeless-

• Riggy performing and horrifying the crowd during his visit
• Ant Saunders being Anthony Saunders
• Drinking Jack N' Coke two at a time
• Being rejected by married women
• Being the only witness to Brian Garcia's obtaining of a phone number

And by far, the best of all...

There was one night we may have drank more than any of the other occasions (the 'two at a time' night, with two simultaneous straws cyphering Jack). On this night, when karaoke closed its curtains, our group was disbanded into smaller groups throughout the Mandalay Bay. One such group contained Myself, Brian Garcia, and my brother Jim. For whatever intoxicated reason, Jim decided that a funny bit would be to continuously taunt Brian, get into his face, and challenge him to a 'throw down' in the middle of the poker area. Hilarity ensued, as Brian's responses were limited to 'Yeah, okay' and 'Whatever Jim' as he attempted to act oblivious to the continuous harassment performed publicly at high volumes (with hundreds of eyes looking on). My whole gimmick during this scene was to play the middle man, with the 'He'll do it, Brian' and the 'I got your back Garcia if he does anything' comments interjected between Jim's threats.

Do something Garcia. I'll fuck you up right here, man!"

Face-to-face, face-in-face, definitely one of the greatest events I'll ever experience in a casino.

It seems as though Sid & I will finally be kicking off our podcast within' the next week- or at least recording the first show. We finally got a kick-ass studio in the house, so the equipment is here, it's just a matter of getting the long missing Sid to make the trip. Once it's recorded, its world-wide premiere will be posted on this blog. Stay updated through Literary Slumber. If you want to hear a selection of radio production pieces I've made in the past, feel free to visit the Real Kid Radio myspace, or listen to Jim & Them (Episode 7 really shows the quality of the new recording setup).

Heart Shaped Bruised

Music: E.C. playing Patsy Cline, as he is suffering from the mumps. (see below)

I drink my beer with a shot glass. I don't think it's a habit I'll ever break, I'll never be willing to. I will, however, have to pick up a key-chain stop-watch, that way I'll be ready when an occasion of drinking is presented. The Power Hour has become an addiction, to the point where I can't tolerate the taste of beer without yelling the phrase 'slam time' every sixty seconds. Being an accomplished, published poet- I think I can form a pun for 'slam time' causing it to be the queue for a beer shot followed by a Shakespeare one-liner.

- "SLAM TIME!"
- "(shot of Red Dog)"
- " But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger."

Genius, though I can't think of a partner who could keep up through an entire hour- or even a tall can's worth of quotations.

I've been consumed by the stock market. I speak and type in symbols. I correct the term 'Google' with 'GOOG', and Apple with 'AAPL' (the latter confuses people). I even occasionally correct the term 'Google' with 'HEY ASSHOLE THAT STOCK IS OVER 500, WHEN DO YOU THINK IT WILL SPLIT? YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT? FUCK OFF. HEY THAT GUY...'. It never ends.

The stock market is a gambler's dream. It offers a risk-free opportunity to gain free money. Sure, a true gambler will put hundreds on XM (XMSR) or WWE (WWE) and throw caution to the bloody wind- but a smart gambler will put thousands on AT&T (T) or Microsoft (MSFT) and walk away with free cash. It's a gambling game of patience, and it could put your children through college, or fund a reasonably size (and named) yacht. I'll be leading more towards the yacht at this stage in my life. I'm not a family man these days, those hours are behind me, or years-ahead-of-the-stock-market-in-front-of-me.

I am beginning to feel that annual football fever. It is the time where the Fantasy Football hype begins, the video games get released, and the stat projections run wild. I have never been more confident in any team like I am in this year's New England Patriots. C'mon... Brady, Moss, Maroney, Bruschi, Colvin... don't even look at me if you don't this team already has the Lombardi Trophy in their team-basement.

I've always been a Cowboys man first, a Pats guy second. This year, I am officially a Patriots supporter mainly. New England is my homeland, Tom Brady is the man I love. It is about time I face the facts- the Cowboys are my preteen team, back in the days where I only knew the names 'Emmitt Smith' and 'Barry Sanders' (and wasn't foolish enough to put Barry first). At this mature age, where I am a winner of eight thousand dollars in football gambling cash, the New England Patriots are my NFL passion, there isn't a team I would dream about putting first. Long story short... DYNASTY.

Plus, the 2K series is back. This is the most tingly of all news. We football fans have been trapped in the Madden universe for the last three years, and we finally have the greatest engine in football gaming to purchase. Despite the fact that EA has stolen the NFL license, and that we won't have up-to-date NFL rosters in the game, All Pro Football 2k8 will undoubtedly be the best sports game of the last thirty six months. Don't get me wrong, as a subscriber of GamezNFlix, I will most definitely spend many hours at the helm of Madden NFL '08, as well as NCAA Football '08- however, my undying love and support will forever lie in the controller of the 2k football series, the greatest of all pigskin developers.

I am a lover of all things delicate, whether it be baby dolls, their pacifiers, or the retail shelves that hold them. Most of all, this list includes... YOU.


[Ron Howard's Arrested Development narration voice.]
Now that, my friends, is how you write using the English language.
[/Ron Howard's Arrested Development narration voice.]


Oh, and for you fans of that overrated Napoleon Dynamite film, watch the real, original Napoleon Dynamite below:



And while we are on the subject that is America's & Britain's Greatest Voice, Pen, Hat, Glasses and Nose... I will leave you with a performance of his featuring Emmylou Harris. I dedicate it to anyone who is taking me to court at the year's moment.

The one line review of Transformers

... from Literary Slumber.

Every aspect of every scene not involving Shia Labeouf or John Turturro was mind-numbingly, offensively dumbing. "

Or...

(I'm Megatron!) Are ya? "

Words will never explain my man-crush on this stud.
(My one-line review of Shia Labeouf)


CARDBOARD CITY REP.

Look Sharp!

Music: Beat Crazy - Joe Jackson

The first time I ever heard Joe Jackson's voice was on the morning of June 22, 2004. I was in the intoxicating state between asleep and awake, dreaming some sort of nonsense involving a genderless person singing and strutting through the apartment I was living in at the time.

Always something breaking us in two

I had fallen asleep early in the morning with the television blaring VH1 Classics's 2xTuesday.

The fantasy seemed to extend for minutes, growing more and more vivid with each lyric. I woke up, sat up, only to see Joe Jackson sitting at a piano performing the song that had just haunted my dreamworld.

I immediately hopped onto the Elvis Costello Fans forum (I was the frequent 'troublemaker' on there at the time) and began my research, and in turn the downloading.

As with every article containing either man- Joe Jackson is constantly graded on a scale to Elvis Costello (and both to Graham Parker, though more or less the other way around), simply because the two of them got their start through the New Wave/Punk British invasion of the late 70's. Despite catching their break through the same movement, there is absolutely nothing similar about the two once we hit 1981- EC went off into the world of Country & Western with Almost Blue, then on to the incomparable Imperial Bedroom as Joe Jackson peaked with Night & Day then began his ambitiously eclectic mediocre years.

I must confess, I've always considered Beat Crazy and Get Happy!! a brotherly pair of sibling albums.

Night & Day.

Today, each are in excellent voice, and their pens have only gotten bolder. You can make a case that the greatest songs written by either man were composed post 2000 (Take It Like A Man - Joe Jackson, Episode Of Blonde, Bedlam - Elvis Costello) , proving that the two of them still have more to offer than the infinite number of young musicians they've inspired today (Daryl Palumbo being a possible exception).

Elvis has his Imposters, Joe Jackson has his Joe Jackson Band. We, as listeners, have songs that can create, dictate, and fabricate characters that gyrate in our deep, dreaming sleep.

How often do you really look at a mans shoes?

I got a whole lot of traveling to do. I got a mark to make.

I am a man who is too modest to list a lot of his goals. I rarely act that way when it comes to professing my ability to accomplish them.

Get busy living, or get busy dying.

Abby purchased Squeeze tickets for her and I, they are playing The Bank Of America Pavilion in Boston next month. If I make the trip to attend this show and reacquaint with that gorgeous woman, it will take a small chunk out of my Los Angeles savings (a move which I assume is still a plan). I'm sure by then I will win a large gambling-treasure, but if not I will have to wait a couple more checks before joining Amanda in CA.

As much as I miss the green grass, the east coast women, and Ricky LaCapria... I'll have to make sure my west coast future is secure before dancing to Glenn Tilbrook as he belts out If It's Love in front of thousands of lucky geezers.

I will leave you with another excerpt from Couldn't Call It Unexpected:

Eyes have been augmented with telescopes- two or three to a house hold. The “global killer” has yet to show its face, though I’m willing to guess that it resembles a burning chunk of falling feces. I don’t need a two hundred dollar tube of metal to tell me that. I’d just as soon trust a kaleidoscope to save my life, before I entrust the end of it to a telescope.

The Ron & Fez best-of shows have been incredible this week. The Power Hour is replaying right now- East Side Dave's second attempt, where he successfully downs the 61 shots. We would perform our power hours using this audio as our timekeeper, it brings back a lot of memories (slam-time), including this one:

I remember one night I decided to throw my own, one man power hour while posting Myspace bulletin updates throughout the sixty minutes. I got a lot of feedback that night, the night of October 14th, 2006.

I'm 34 shots into my one-man power hour. There's very few people I'd like to share this moment with, and chances are half of them are dead or named either Elvis Costello or Glenn Tilbrook.

There will definitely be another one of these (hopefully with people) before I head off further west.

7-Up tastes like dick.

Guard Your Celery.



' 7-Up tastes like dick.'

Delivery is everything when it comes to comedy. That is the only explanation I can muster for why a line that is so awfully unfunny can maintain such a strong level of humor between a mother and son over multiple weeks of time. Ron Bennington put it best when he said (something along the lines of...):

"It's all in delivery, I could've killed with these jokes. If Woody Allen had cast Larry Frazier in all of his films, people would've thought they were awful."

Of course he also said:

"I bring up a Woody Allen movie and people look at me like a genius can't fuck their stepdaughter."

And I believe that statement holds just as much truth.
The point being, '7-Up tastes like dick' should not be funny, and to anybody who hasn't heard my nearly-accidental delivery on that faithful drive home- it isn't funny.

Now, this, on the other hand... is hilarious, to everybody:

Two for the money.

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Couldn't Call It Unexpected

 

Couldn’t Call It Unexpected

Kevin Scampoli

A story of untapped potential for the human race
as told through the death of three dreamers.

 

There hasn’t been much emphasis on 'time' in the world without constant reminders on the radio and television. The lack of deadlines and the loss of nearly all cell phone service doesn’t help, either. There is a group going by the name of “I’m Et!” (‘Time’ spelt backwards, pronounced “I’m It!”) that has decided to destroy man’s idea of ‘time’ all together. There were a number of demonstrations across the country at which hundreds of people, dressed in bright yellow jumpsuits, would burn and destroy thousands of analog clocks chanting “HELLO – GOOD BYE – WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF TIME!“ over and over. It makes for a beautiful performance. Their displays and signs were actually made using digital projection clocks, a lot of which stolen from the bedrooms of children. I saw one of the yellow suits once, an older lady, carrying a Batman clock rigged to write “TIME – CRIME – CHRISTMAS TIME” on a piece of poster board. It was one of the oddest and laziest rhymes I’ve ever read. Despite that experience, I look at them as a smart group… I could never turn the red LED light on a digital clock into a blinking “I’M NOT A SLAVE TO TIME” announcement. The other side is attempting to make a good quick buck out of this, gathering and stealing what analog clocks can be salvaged, selling them on the roadside to anybody who will make eye contact. At least capitalism and sincerity aren’t fully lost.

4/12/2007

I was 'asleep' on the bed with her baby, listening to something other than Smile by Brian Wilson (a rarity for that final week). She flashed a light on my eyes to confirm my unconsciousness, then retreated to the porch for a multi-hour conversation with a certain person.

That apt. had thin walls.

Satellite Of Love.

Watching that video, I get the twelve-year-old girl feeling. An image of a big wedding with family, friends, microphones, performances, and most importantly- smiles with starry eyes. No prenuptial agreement thoughts, second guesses, or drive-thrus... just pure devotion. I'm not taking shots at anybody who has done it differently, if you're married and happy then that is beautiful. I just see my marriage on a grand scale, and that statement means a lot considering my former, very vocal views on the subject.

Marriage is a definite risk, and I am not referring to the statistics, my parents, or your parents. I still feel the same as I ever did as pertains to divorce laws and biased courtrooms. I just know myself a little better, and I know that I will meet somebody (maybe a few somebody's) whom I will care more about than my computer, or my dvd collection, or any possession. A person that is worth the risk.

Today, I watch the East Side Dave/Casey Elan wedding production very emotionally. Not so much because I feel as though my engagement should have become a marriage, but because I anticipate meeting the woman that I will share a true engagement with. One I will willingly write vows for, not depressing poems about escape and isolation. It's an inspiring ceremony to watch.

The rest of the show was very well done, Fez was the best he's been in months, Stalker Patti did her Patti Smith bit, and J-Dubs made an appearance.

There is a new Jim & Them video online, for those of you seeking the funny: