Wednesday's Child OR The Girl Who Sorta Makes My Pants Go Crazy This Week

Please make note of the empty space next to Isla. Oh how I'd like to fill her space.



The life of mine that fuels the profundity of my words is generally rather mundane. In an almost Seinfeldian way, it is the small and seemingly insignificant occurrences that generate the insight into the big and quite significant minutes of my existence. Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives. It is this type of completely original thought that keeps this column going and keeps you all thirsting for so much, much, much, more and more.

I went to lunch the other day and made the mistake of leaving my CD wallet that is better than yours in my office. So did I do the smart thing and just keep the radio off to be alone with my thoughts and the thoughts of Tyler? Of course not. Like a little bastard A.D.D.'er, I turned on the radio. I scanned through some stations until I heard a total dill of a DJ introducing the next song:

"And here's the Black Eyed Peas with "Don't Phunk With My Heart"! Vomit. Triple supermodel vomit.

I immediately turned off the radio and had to resist my body's urge to go into a fetal position. And in case you're wondering, I checked. It really is spelled "phunk". I went to All Music Guide and checked. Some of you are afraid of looking up porn on the internet because you fear that someone is keeping a record of it and it will come back to haunt you. Shit, I'm writing this because I fear that my musical credibility will be totally ruined by my investigation of such a crap group and I want to have some sort of an alibi. I can already hear the indie rock storm troopers banging on my door.

So after dry-heaving for about half an hour (which didn't agree with my lunch), something from the past so deeply moving that it threatened to shake me to my pretty little core exploded into my consciousness (my English teacher said I was good at "flowery" language). A single memory: I used to have sex with a girl who loved the Black Eyed Peas. We only slept together a couple times, but our swift ending always troubled me on some level. Her name was Katie. She was the first girl with both a tattoo AND a tongue ring I'd ever slept with. She was HIGHLY sexual, pleasantly sarcastic, and just illusive enough that when I finally did get to sleep with her, I knew that I was fulfilling something wonderfully enjoyable and remotely narcissistic (since so much of her reminded me of myself--with the exception of the piercings and the tattoos. I know you're following.) So when she lost interest a couple weeks later, I was more hurt than I figured I could be. I didn't really have any deep feelings for her or anything. It's just that sensation you get from being with someone who on some level seems too cool to be with you. You feel like you're playing with the House's money or something. It was more of a blow to my ego than anything else, but I found that it bothered me for longer than it should have.

Until the day of "Phunk". Hahahaha! What was I thinking of when I let someone who liked such absolute shit for music affect me? And I learned an even greater lesson that didn't just have to do with this girl, but that I could apply to the remainder of my strong good life:

Past memories of those we cared about only hurt because we're harping on the good or great things about them. Find the worst thing about them and focus on it until you are comforted.

Now does this sound a bit bitter, a bit shallow, a bit superficial? I'm sure it does because I'm the one writing. Look, often we focus too much on finding positive, life affirming means of dealing with our pain. Well I say that the general sources of our pain are neither positive nor life affirming. I'm more interested in finding effective solutions rather than "correct" solutions. So whether this means I choose to remember an ex's phyisical imperfections that always grossed me out even though I never told them, the fact that they farted in their sleep (this is the only time you will ever see me acknowledge that women do this--it could have been a noise the bed made), that they sometimes had really bad breath, or that they have really shitty taste that makes them unworthy of me, I say SO FUCKING BE IT. Moving on for all of us may ultimately be a process, but every process has its shortcuts.

It is with my newfound spirit of "fuck all" that I introduce a girl whose flaws I'd like to intimately investigate--this week's Wednesday's Child, Isla Fisher. The diminuitivescottishsexual actress first came to my attention this past weekend with her hormonally charged and clothing-challenged role as Gloria in the "best movie I've seen all year because Vince Vaughn is true comic good hard brilliant genius", Wedding Crashers. She has also had smaller roles in recent decent films such as Swimming Pool and I Heart Huckabees. She obviously has taste in men with sick senses of humor ("So you're sayin' there's a chance...) as she is currently engaged to one Sacha Cohen, better known to the rest of the world as the great Ali G. If you don't know who Ali G is, find out. Your world will be the better for it.

Isla is short, energetic, and most importantly is highly sexual in nature. When Vince Vaughn's character proposes taking their relationship to the next level, Isla's character agrees that a threesome with those "two hot Brazilian girls we saw the other day" is a truly grand idea. Though she may have only been playing a role, I felt a connection in her words at that moment that had the exact opposite effect of the words "Don't phunk with my heart". Really. My body was considering a totally different position. Without spoiling the movie, I will say that Isla's portrayal of Gloria taught me that it is the flaws we find in people that can draw us together and endear one another to the other. But I've also figured out that those flaws can just as easily be used to cope with personal loss--by making that person you so fondly remember...into the disgusting and tasteless figure you really hope they've become. I advise all of you to use this method when you're trying to kickstart that personal transition of yours. Unless of course I am the target of your mental destruction. Trust me, there's no getting over me...

Some Quick Hits For Some of You (look for your initials)

Since I don't always have time to e-mail as much as I'd like, a few quick hellos...

DB and MB: DB, I miss you man. When are you gonna come up here and drink with me? MB, I haven't had a woman really yell at me in a while. Come up and give it a shot.

JG: I'm glad you're still reading my blog, even if you don't "have time in your life for people you genuinely dislike". I miss you and hope you're doing well.

DT and JT: Two sisters, equally hot in nature. I am progressively growing jealous of the men in your lives that are interfering with my future devious and sordid plans.

AH: Soon to be AH? Hmm. Well, I really enjoyed helping you and your family do lawn work the other day. I mean, I am Hispanic. It was about time I did some.

JC: Your return is imminent and I am eager to see you. Though without a reader from outside the country, my blog will no longer have the international appeal I've been bragging to everyone about.

RRN: Can there be a greater distance on so many levels than what exists between Hawaii and Idaho? For you my dear, three words: Devotion and doubt. Oh yeah, and love.

JM: Natrone, I miss you Brother. I'll be in Dallas in the not too distant future. You. Me. Your wife who you totally stole from me. I can't wait :)

JV: Ohio isn't so bad. Hang in there, Brother. Get out of the apartment and start...

Sorry if I didn't get to everyone. Anyone who is reading this knows that I love them on some level. If you don't know that, contact me for some reassurance. I am often told how giving I can be.


Album of the Week: Black Sheep Boy by Okkervil River



Pitchfork Review: http://pitchforkmedia.com/record-reviews/o/okkervil-river/black-sheep-boy.shtml









Song of the Day: "Missionary"

Artist: Operation Ivy

Album: Energy

Lyric of Possible Relevance:


"Got a brand new set of words, the going rate is cheap
Unconditional devotion, unquestioning belief
Words carved in stone, chiseled in with sharpened bones
Of the ones who thought my righteousness was something to oppose
I start it, I end it
I kill and words will defend it
Got big plans
Blood stained hands
Wanna see my name on the map
On my way to save the world."