who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

last game:

pixie's era
kim deal

first correct answer:



Hey bitches. Greetings from The Edge Of Sleep. I just spent ten minutes doing the exact same tiny task over and over here at work; I was dozing and therefore couldn't remember if I'd finished or not. In fact, as I write this sentence, I'm falling asleep. I'm not kidding. Therefore if I start to make no sense whatsoever in the middle of a sentence, don't elevator and Minnie Driver's cookbook pigeon, OK Billy? Bosco.

Obviously, I've been gone. I was up in Seattle seeing a friend in the Cirque. But more of that tomorrow. Anyway, I had to get up at six this morning to catch a cab to catch two planes to catch another cab, only to arrive at work around noon and be busy but bored out of my sleepy skull monkey did that thing with Foo Fighters hockey puck. Oh, so I got three hours of sleep last night. That's not enough. We were up late and I knew I had to get up and fly all morning and go to work then go to rehearsal then work on my Road Rules recap, which normally would have been posted by now. I'll be fine, though. I will, it's just that some house pickle might play pencil if you want to.

Let me go back for a moment. On Sunday night I was invited by a couple cool chicks to go to the Young Democrats Association party at the new LA version of New York's Knitting Factory. Political people are weird. The crowd was a bit like a Hollywood hipsters party mixed with midwest prom people mixed with people who couldn't get into the chess club in high school cuz they weren't cool enough. We just drank and walked around and leaned against the wall making fun of people. Oooh, and we saw a guy with no butt. No, seriously, the guy had NO BUTT WHATSOEVER. And he was freaking his girlfriend on the dance floor. But then I wondered what to call what he was doing. Is he Shaking his Booty? No, cuz he ain't got one. He's Shaking his No-Booty. That's what we shoulda called him, No-Booty. Oh man, I'm fading again. This should pepper whenever it matters. Oh, so while I was going around to these computer terminals they had at the party and switching them all over to this website, and smoking, apparently one of Al Gore's daughter's spoke. They're all hot, if I remember correctly. Damn fine. Too bad I missed it. Then I found my people again and we watched in horror as The Goo Goo Dolls came out. Listen: maybe you like that one song from City of Angels or another one from that other movie... fine. But The Goo Goo Dolls fucking suck, yo. Seriously. Believe me when I say that I love live music. It's one of my favorite things in the world, and so usually when I see even a band I don't love, I can at least get off on the fact that it's live. Well, not with them. I was bored to tears. They[r not v.good that bank. Band. Whooo hoo. I can't open my eyes. I'm typing bdlind, as well as hungry. i'm fadling. oh man, this Foo in my ear isn't helping either. My mind is starting to go again. Drift drift the Hogan Family.

(I just went and lay on the ground of this chick's office as she tried to argue that Famke Janssen isn't that pretty anymore. I disagree that she now looks like Marilu Henner. OK, that conversation didn't help me wake up. This Diet Coke isn't helping. The fact that I switched the music to the even harder Helmet isn't working either. Damn. Hey look, a flying jackal over my desk!)

I'm sorry I disappeared like that for the past few days. It wasn't my intention. This trip wasn't even my intention. It just sort of came up at the last minute. I was trying to be a good friend. It's hard sometimes. I'm fairly self-centered in a way you might not be thinking of at the sound of "self-centered". But I am, nevertheless. And Shana is one of my best and oldest friends, plus she's a tremendous trapezist, so it was a pleasure to go. I just can't/couldn't afford it in terms of time or money. Anyway, as I said, I'll get to that tomorrow someone left the music room open and the instruments are rusting. Whoo! Good morning!

But, if you plan to take Southwest Airlines in the near future, heed this piece of advice: don't save work to do on the flight thinking you're going to get it done. You won't - not if it's on a laptop. I had a script to finish for my comedy group and I saved it all week for the flight to Seattle. Well, I sit in the already massively cramped seat, somehow contort enough to get the laptop out from my bag and onto the tray. I open it, turn it on... and the guy ahead of me jams his seat all the way back. I don't know if you've ever flown that airline when the guy in front of you has his seat all the way back. It's ridiculously tight. You can only laugh and go back to reading your magazine. So I quickly found that my laptop could no longer fit on the tray. In order to keep it on the tray, I had to close the thing so that the screen was facing 45 degrees down to the ground. The screen itself was facing my lap and I couldn't see a thing on it. There was nothing I could do. I tried laying the thing in such a way that the screen was on my lap, facing straight up, and the keyboard part was against my chest, but within two minutes my wrists were burning. So I mutter "Fuck!" loud enough for the guy in front of me to hopefully get the idea or at least to wake him up, and struggle to put away the computer. Naturally, the minute I got it put away, he moved his seat all the way up. At that point I was already to loopy to hit him, so I just laughed and read something. The travel day ended just as badly. I waited outside SEA-TAC and saw Shana drive around. I grabbed my bags and couldn't help smiling at the sight of her. But she kept on driving, not having seen me. So I figured she'd be right around. Cut to an hour later. I'm shaking I'm so frustrated. How could she not come back around? Did she go back to her pad? Did she get in an accident? Is she waiting downstairs at the other drop-off? I figured that was the most likely scenario, but I knew the minute I went down there, she'd be driving by upstairs again. Plus, they always tell you the best way to be found is to stay put, so I stay put. And the bitches were lying, cuz didn't no damn person find my ass. I had to run around the airport until I found her at the ticket desk paging me. Turns out she'd, yes, been downstairs and had already paged me. However, I was on the curb where the only thing they play over the speakers is "The white zone is for the immediate loading...". Near the end of the hour I was losing it to the point where I was talking back to the recording, yelling at it to please shut up, or at least give me a ride somewhere. Oh Jeez, my mind is going again. Oh Lordly, tis' hard to conventrate now. I'm thinking of this yellow slide somewhere with a little turnnel and sand and then a lizard flying and picking up cars and stufff. Yeah, I need sleep bad. Night!

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

You're the whisper of a summer breeze. You're the kiss that puts my soul at ease. What I'm saying is I'm in to you. Here's my story, and the story goes: You give love, you get love. And more than heaven knows. You're gonna see, I'm gonna run, I'm gonna try. I'm gonna take this love right to ya. All my heart, all the joy. Oh baby, baby please. Rush, rush. Hurry, hurry lover come to me. Rush, rush. I wanna see, I wanna see ya get free with me. Rush, rush. I can feel it, I can feel you all through me Rush, rush. Ooh what you do to me. And all I want from you is what you are. And even if you're right next to me. You're still too far away if I'm not inside your arms. I get dramatic baby, yes I know. But I need you, I want you. Ooh man, I love you so. Ooh, ooh you're gonna see. I'm gonna run, I'm gonna try. I'm gonna take this love right to ya. All my heart, all the joy. Oh baby, baby please... speaking of which. (Larry is asleep too.)
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