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Hotel Overshare

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

A Nagging Open Letter to the Art Fags and Punk Rockers of This Latest Generation from an Art Fag and Punk Rocker From an Earlier Generation:

Dear Art Fags and Punk Rockers of This Latest Generation,

Please note the following list of sage wisdom I, an ex- Art Fag and Punk Rocker, would like to give to you. Know that I nag because I care. I hate the idea that all of the cool, artsy, politically radical, creative, all around more interesting youngsters of this day and age are doing things that will jeapardize their future on this planet. If you all die young and stay pretty, we're going to have to all watch all those frat boy jock assholes ruin everything. Stay around out of spite for them, if nothing else.

Ok, now...

1. Jam bands do suck. If you stopped smoking pot for like 10 minutes, you'd realize that.

2. In approximately 5 years you're going to feel like a TOTAL asshole for becoming addicted to cigarettes (or anything for that matter). No one is going to think you look cool anymore and people are going to not want to make out with you because you stink, you look about 20 years older than you really are, and your teeth look like shit (Crest White Strips anyone?).

Later, when you have to roll around an oxygen tank behind you (because you aren't really going to die when you're 25 like you imagined, you'll *actually* live *just* long enough to experience all the joyous nasty health problems that come along with smoking) even painting it black and putting sweet rims on it, won't make you look cool.

3. Don't even get me started about drugs. Experimentation, recreation, whatever, fine, I'm no square. Being 35 and having to chain smoke pot everyday to get through it all, NOT HOT. If you have to self medicate to deal, think about why and do something about it.

4. The eighties weren't cool at all. Things sucked just as much then as they do now. Although now it's just slightly more obvious. If you think Britney Spears is bad, have a listen to some Samantha Fox, she was on HEAVY rotation on MTV. Seriously. Not like, ironically. At all.

5. Earplugs (the stretching kind) need SURGERY to get fixed. Has no one seen Extreme Makeover? No one?? And that ain't covered by insurance.

6. Speaking of earplugs, please wear them. Please, the real ones. There is no laser surgery for fucking up your ears with those CRAP-ASS Ipod headphones and seeing shows with no plugs in. Again, when you are like 5 years older, you'll feel like an asshole for not being able to hear anything and having to scream "WHAT?????" all the time. Or like having to have your friends repeat everything everyone says to you again because you can't hear them. Like my grandfather. Who worked in a loud factory. And now can't hear shit. He didn't have a choice, but I'm guessing you do.

7. Take a vitamin pill every day. Even if you are shooting smack and smoking horse, just take a vitamin pill. It's the least you can do. You won't feel as much like ass.

8. Nobody really gives a shit about what you look like. Or how you act (unless you're like robbing them or committing a violent offense against them - which I super don't recommend for all sorts of reasons). Most people, almost always are WAY WAY WAY WAY more worried about worrying about what everyone thinks about THEM. And yes, that includes the people that seem like all normal and like they have their shit together. Those people are usually the worst of all because they are the ones that are worrying about conforming. At least you have an outlet of expression in your Artfaggy Punkrockness. Imagine if you had to be normal all the time. Fuck that.

9. Closed head injuries are REALLY not sexy. Wear a fucking helmet. Put a goddamn sticker on the fucker if it makes you feel cooler (and those skate helmets ARE cool, you lucky bastards, all we had were those big nasty white ones). And your fucking seatbelt. Safety IS SEXY. And so is having all your brain function. Remember that.

10. Things are almost NEVER as bad as you think they are. Even when they are that bad. I had a guidance councilor in 7th grade tell me that I was going to look back on all of the girls of my class gathering around me and taunting me everyday at lunch and laugh. He was full of shit. I ain't laughin', but I'm super glad I didn't off myself. In fact, even like 4 months later I was glad I didn't off myself. Sometimes, all it takes is a minute or a second and the feeling passes. Wait for it, it'll come.

11. If it that next moment doesn't come, go see a goddamn therapist. It's not a big deal. Fuck it, you're a goddamn art fag, what do you care what people think anyway?

It works. If you want it to work, it will work, it might take awhile, but it does.

12. If people are shitty to you, take out your red pen and edit them out of your life. Done and done. You'll find more friends. If you're like me at all, you're probably plenty mean to yourself, you don't need extra help. And you don't deserve it. Nobody does.

13. Leggings are just one step away from stirrup pants. And that's some scary shit.

14. Do it your goddamn self. Stop whining and do it. There's a little something called DIY that was born in the punk rock movement. Pay tribute to your elders and figure it out yourself cuz' sooner or later, you'll have to and so why not sooner.

15. Don't fuck up your credit rating. Seriously. You might think it doesn't matter because you're so young and whatever give me that goddamn credit card cuz' I'm GOING to buy those boots they are so FUCKING "RAD" (or whatever you kids are saying these days) and I'm never going to want to have a mortgage or like buy a new car or whatever anyway.

Well, kids, you'd be wrong. More likely than not, you're going to be a real live adult in like TEN MINUTES. It will actually be a couple of years but you'll look back on it and be like DAMN, WAS THAT LIKE TEN MINUTES AGO OR AM I STILL ON THE DRUGS? And then you'll be like DAMN I DON'T QUALIFY FOR ANYTHING BECAUSE MY CREDIT RATING SUCKS BALLS. I *never* thought I would want to own a house or a car or even be able to. Even though I made REALLY good money for awhile there (oh yes those days are over..) with a bad credit rating nobody gave a shit about how much money I made. And that sucked even bigger balls than my credit rating.

and finally!

16. It wouldn't kill you to wash those jeans (or your hair) once and awhile. If they are beginning to feel waxy from the grease on them, give 'em a little spin in the washer, won't you? We can all smell them (and your dirty hair) from here.

Here ends this installment of: Twicksie has a nagging spaz.

Thank you, and goodnigh-- er.. goodafternoon.

Love,
Twicksie

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Honestly, I am beginning to think that my moods are solely dependant on the state of my bowels and the fit of my pants.

I no longer need an astrologer or a psychic, I just need only look to my toilet and closet for the answers.

Had I only known sooner.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Ok, so, should I be worried if in the bathroom in the library it smells like coconut oil VERY strongly and there are weird balled up chunks of paper towels in the corners of the stall and by the sinks?

Is that a worrisome situation?

Monday, September 11, 2006

Thursday, September 07, 2006

This morning, on the T (that's "Boston" for "subway"), I saw a perfectly lovely woman who was DEFINITELY OLDER THAN 18 (in which case there was no excuse) wearing bubble gum pink LEGGINGS, patent leather ballet flats and black BABY DOLL DRESS WITH A HEADBAND.

NO. NO. AND NO.

I am NOT OLD ENOUGH to see the fashion from the first season of Friends back in style. I AM NOT.

NO.

I REFUSE THAT WOMAN'S OUTFIT.

And to those of you that think those goddamn early eighties rocker tight-to-the-ankle jeans are a good idea, YOU ARE WRONG. Even goddamn KATE MOSS looks like a fat cow in those.

NO.

Je refuse.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Toast.

Still.

Smells.

Like.

Why.

Oh, why.

Holy shit.

It STILL smells like toast.

I am going to DIGEST MY OWN INTERNAL ORGANS, I AM SO HUNGRY.

dammit.

damn toast.

Ok, it STILL smells like toast.

What the fuck?!?!?!

Jesus, I'm starving.

It smells like toast in here and it's driving me UP A FUCKING WALL.

Someone is making toast and blowing the toast smoke into the vents.

It's the only explanation.