Tuesday, November 29, 2005

reasons i will not be working for you

1. your bar is just a front for your lucrative, mob-related money laundering business.
2. you insist i conserve and reuse rubber bands because they are oh so expensive.
3. during happy hour, you play the NIN version of "Hurt". HAPPY hour.
4. everything must be written in capital letters and all messages must be as brief as possible. ME TALK GOOD ONE DAY. I RETARDED.
5. there are more doors, levels and stairways in the annals of your establishment than in "Labyrinth". secret doors. secret mafia stairs. sadly, no David Bowie.
6. every door must be locked behind you. Even if you are still in the liquor room, counting liquor, the door must be locked behind you. so the mob doesn't get you. or "The Others".
7. you have shot measuring devices on your liquor bottles. you cheap fuck.
8. while interviewing me, you deride my old bar, make fun of its food, mock its ability to make a profit, while knowing full well that your bar is a stinking pile of feces with dead rats thrown on top and maybe a used condom.
9. your onion rings suck balls.
10. i didnt make any money

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

now, why wont they hire me?

ive been going on craigslist to try and get some sucky bartending job, like, anywhere. since ive been back in nyc ive managed to sign on to a temp agency, but that leaves my nights open for a shift or two a week that could be filled with many shots of bourbon and enough cash to roll around naked in at the end of the night. piles and piles of money.

im done with being poor. being poor sucks ass. people who say money doesnt matter are stupid assholes who should work at starbucks. and die. then i want their daddies to hire me at Douchebag, Butthole & Ass-Monkey Consulting. located in midtown.

also, i may not be getting too many offers to bartend because of that picture up there. they always ask for headshots and thats the picture i send them. i dont have any others.

nothing says, "bartender that doesnt take any shit from anyone", like a bright pink skull 'n' crossbones armband.

i win

my website gets third place in the search for free-basing vicodin. on msn anyway.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

dear nyc, please stop sending me parking tickets

yeah. thatd be great.

and before i return, it would also be great if you could remove the crack-head that always hangs out in front of my apartment. hes always accusing my dog of mugging him. "Tha's the dog that mugged me las' night!". which is bullshit because my dog hasnt the opposable thumbs. also, the other homeless dude/crackhead who referred to my dog as a 'nigga'. as in, when i was walking troy by the bodega at the end of my block and dude was like, "get that nigga away from me!" and then squealed like a little schoolgirl as my completely pussified dog strolled by.

i would appreciate it if he went away too. the bottom of the east river would be ok with me.

lets see, what else...

oh yeah. right. east village hipster douches. you all need to die. none of you are actually from new york. not that i am either, but im not desperately trying to cover up the 'horrid' truth that im actually from butt-fuck, south dakota. nobody cares, dude. so chill. also, its ok to listen to music that more than ten people have heard of. i know death cab is getting a little too famous and mainstream for you, but i promise, they still rock. yeah, i heard postal service license its music to a shit-ton of commercials too. ive made my peace with it. cause really, you or i would do it too. if someone wanted to buy my art and splash it all over network television for an ass-load of money, id sell out faster than free crack in tompkins square park. and so would you, hipster douche.

ok, that about wraps it up. except...im really going to need to address the dude problem.

stop being so gay. seriously. fucking stop it. i understand that the east village is fag mecca, and thats cool. everybody needs to get a piece now and then. and if you are actually gay, than be gay. be the gayest gay that ever gayed. shine on, brother.

but please stop confusing me, all you straight dudes. how the hell am i supposed to get some when i cant tell the difference between a gay dude and his straight neighbor, who just happens to be really into skin care? its beyond metrosexual. if you take longer in the bathroom than i do, if i catch you checking yourself out in every reflective surface, if you can tell my shoes are from pay-less and it offends you, GO AWAY. be a man already. jesus.

thanks for your time, nyc. see you tomorrow night.

goddamn its going to be cold when i get back.

Monday, November 07, 2005