Live From IHOP 1917

Most of you read "I Don't Mind if You Forget Me" for the articles. Right?


Tonight's edition promises to be quite disjointed. The word "disjointed" makes me cry. It reminds me of a perilous life and a really bad football injury I had once...

This is a night where my Wednesday's Child will merely be a vehicle for the rest of my column. The ex used to refer to French fries as a vehicle for ketchup and pancakes as a vehicle for maple syrup. I find that these things, her witticisms, are about all I miss. That and her taste in music. Luckily she was kind enough to take sex away well ahead of schedule so that I'm now done missing that from her. I guess forced celibacy was a vehicle for the breakup. But the joke's on her. I faked every orgasm.

So, Wednesday's Child. Laura Prepon. "That 70's Show". Hot. Auburnsexual. She makes pants fly in all directions. Extremely sexual in nature and highly sexually active in the community. Me so horny.

Brie, Cara, and Jess are happy that I made that short for a change.

I'm at an IHOP I've never been to before. I smile superforce gigantic because the poor, ignorant souls around me aren't aware that they're in the presence of quiet genius. I could tell them and they could later recall to their children that they were once in the presence of quiet genius. Though, judging by the crowd in here, this experience would rank right behind the time they saw Tupac, Garth Brooks, or "the hot chick lead singer of Hanson".

The three Goth chicks and their Seth Cohen-esque trendy gay friend sure fucking cuss a shitload. Fucking kids. I hate this new generation of emo shitheads.

Three very large black men directly in front of me. Black people are so much cooler than me.

Couples who sit on the same side of the booth when no one else is with them are dumb as shit. Hey there, tough guy. Get a little closer so that you can feed her French Fries. By the look of her, her brain is already overloaded by the task of dealing with the harsh reality that she's dating your lame ass.

I just remembered that I'm half Hispanic which makes me cooler than all my white friends. If you think I sound bigoted, you're wrong. I'm a half minority which means I'm not a racist, no matter what you say.

I found out that my brother watches "Laguna Beach". I never believed that you could extract the gay out of someone. But now I'll pray real hard. He proceeded to remind me that I watch "The O.C." He obviously doesn't appreciate the depth of the characters and story involved. "Laguna Beach" is gay and "The O.C." is not and you can't disagree because I'm half Hispanic and it makes you all racist if you do. What? My brother is half Hispanic you say? No he's not. He's obviously 95% white. And gay.

Two of my female friends recently pointed out to me that I'm a freak because I've never seen a girl pee. They didn't understand how I had been involved with so many girls without having witnessed this amazing feat of nature. Is this why I've failed in my relationships? Because I didn't have enough consideration to request a viewing during post-coital bliss? I mean I know girls want to share and all, but none of them ever asked me to perform my standup routine for them. Do the MPEGs of Japanese girls peeing on each other that I've seen count?

Some of you made the "disgusted" face. But you can't. Those girls are Japanese, a minority in this country, and therefore immune to your criticism. I guess I'm just more culturally open-minded than the rest of you. Bigots.

I just finished writing the wedding ceremony that I'm performing next Friday. I read it to the groom and he told me he was moved. He also remarked "that I sounded as if I was capable of a healthy relationship." And I told him that I was always better at fiction writing than anything else.

I'd like to solicit the critiques of any of my female readers who will not be attending this ceremony. I'll gladly read you my heartfelt work of sweet strong devotion and majesty. But let me warn you in advance. You'll probably want to sleep with me even more than you already do.

There's a sign hanging from the ceiling in here that reads "Being a Senior Has Its Perks. Buy 1 Meal, Get 1 Free." Yeah, that totally outweighs the loss of energy, motor skills, bowel and bladder control, and the perilous slide toward death. Pass the sugar free syrup, old-timer.

The goth chick in the corner with long, black hair wearing a black hoodie is eyeing me. Is it wrong that any rejection of her by me stems less from her obvious status as a minor and more from the grooming issues I'm certain exist?

Tonight, I'm wearing my "You Drink & Drive, You Lose" t-shirt. If, upon completion of this column, I go out and get hammered and get pulled over by the police, will the humorous publicity I might receive outweigh the ultimate consequences I face? Someone once told me that there is no such thing as bad publicity. At my press conference, I'll be sure to mention that I'm also an ordained minister. When the press scoffs, I'll remind them that I'm half Hispanic and their disdain is quite unacceptable considering their status as the white devil majority. Overcome with guilt, everyone will forget why I was arrested in the first place and hail me as a sympathetic hero. Maybe I'm just dreaming. The headline in the papers the next day will most likely read something like: "Holy Man Full of Holy Shit."


Album of the Week: "Viva Hate"

Artist: Morrissey

Song Highlights: "Everyday is Like Sunday", "Suedehead", "Hairdresser On Fire", "I Don't Mind If You Forget Me"

Song of the Day: "Congratulations"

Artist: Juliana Hatfield

Album: "Only Everything"

Lyric of Possible Relevance:

"I don’t know what I like, only know what I don’t.

I don’t like what I know, only love what I don’t.

I know the fire but none of the afterglow.

Killing the irony that’s ruining rock & roll."