Sunday, January 08, 2006

Drinkin' with my gun

Will I'm just of outta jail,
and I'm bored as hell,
and I'm going to get my gun.

Cuz the lights is down,
on this here town,
and it's time to have some fun.

I don't take no lip,
with my gun on my hip,
and I strut into the bar.

I take a Gentleman Jack,
a Red Label for Zac,
and 2 beers in masons jars.

I take a big ol' sip,
an I wipe my lip,
as I finish off my cup.

Now it's time to dance,
an find some new romance,
before the sun comes up!

(chorus)

So I grab a girl,
and give her a twirl,
While Zac finds himself one too!

We is steppin' along,
dancin' every song,
when then as if on cue,

There comes a couple of guys,
about twice my size,
trying to start a fight.

Well Zac was a drinkin,
so I knows what he was thinkin,
an he smiled and said "alright"

Well I had my gun at my side,
and this foolish ol' pride,
so I had to step in to it.

Then I looked at Zac,
and I slapped his back,
then said "come on, lets do it!"

(chorus)

We started to brawl,
in the ol' dance hall,
and let me tell you son,

My Brother Zac,
well he's got my back!
Cuz he's meaner than any gun!

so punches flew,
chairs smashed in two,
there was broken glass an blood.

and those chumps looked sad,
cuz they'd been had,
when they fell into the mud.

'cuz Zac loves to fight.
especially at night,
when he's been drinkin whiskey.

and when I'm havin fun,
I always bring my gun,
he's my brother right there with me!!

(chorus)

I need help with a chorus if anyone has ideas, I'd love to hear them

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

My new favorite Craigslist post

(To help eliminate confusion, I didn't write this, I just found it on Craiglist and I loved it so much it needed to be posted, after the next bracket, someone else wrote this post.)


Porn has completely destroyed me.

There was a time - I'd say pre 1996 - when I would have tolerated a girl with an errant fat roll, a mildly problematic ass, or even non-porcelain veneered teeth. And come to think of it, I might have even green lighted a B cup chest.

But with the installation of the high speed cable modem, alas, I am sad to say that those times have now passed. I now only want - and will only solicit affection from - girls with killer porn star looks and behavior.

I am ashamed and I do not like what now stimulates me, but the Internet, with all of its quick fix, crack-like vices, has made me extraordinarily intolerant.

Are you a Columbia or NYU grad and a great conversationalist?

Not important.

Do you have a quirky sense of humor and a knack for cooking Asian Fusion cuisine?

Don't care.

Would you like to discuss the sub-text meaning of the whip sawed brush strokes of that Kandinsky painting at the Met?

Fuck off.

Be the source of a blood rush and make me throw a rod in my pants or kindly turn into anti-matter.

I am ruined. I am dead on the inside. I am ashamed and embarrassed of what now stimulates me and I know that I am irrevocably changed for the worse. For all practical purposes, Internet porn has destroyed me.

So who am I? Not who you'd think. Not the dandruff-haired blob of shit in the cube next to you. Not the UES Michigan frat boy. Not the faux disheveled Brooklyn hipster with the silly retro Puma sneakers.

Sadly, I am the "normal" one that you're actually interested in. Cultured, eloquent, well dressed. I am the one you discuss with your girlfriends over brunch at Pastis. I am the one you hope to bump into at Karen's pajama themed apartment party. I am the one who takes the lead, holds doors, and hails cabs.

Shit.

Do you dream of a man who will "love you just for you?"

Do believe that you have peripheral, intangible qualities that men of substance will key upon and gravitate to?

Do you shun the gym in favor of The Apprentice and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunkey Monkey, thinking that your black cigarette pants will sufficiently mask any belly spillage or ass expansion?

Then forget it. It's game over. You're a walking, talking non-compete clause and you're going to end up alone with a slobbering oversized Rotweiller named Chuckles.

Pull your head out of your ass and be advised - porn viewing/obsession is spreading like the plague amongst my gender - upping the already unrealistic physical expectations, pushing boundaries in the bedroom (you're down with anal, right?), and providing instant, customize-able sexual highs with the push of a button.

If you're female and you don't posess prodigal, Einsteinian caliber intelligence that would propel the cause of humanity forward, and, if you don't relish the idea of being alone, then . . .

. . . throw every last dollar you have at your physical appearance.

I'm serious. Personal trainer. Porcelain veneers. High-end Park Ave. boob job. Get scared and get it done.

Do not extend my gender any credit. Do not hope that a guy will be in awe of your cello playing, your VP title, or your cute apartment.

I promise you he won't care. Don't kid yourself into thinking he will. Men are programmed to respond to the visual.

Look good or you're alone.