I’d like to go on the record and say that I have NEVER done an interview with the New York Post about The Drunk Diet. And furthermore, any features they may be printing this weekend are completely fabricated.
(I may or may not have gotten word that they’re running a bullshit article over the weekend).
For the 14th time, don’t believe anything you read unless you’ve read it in The Drunk Diet!
File this blog under Go Fuck Yourself
I just recieved this message in my GoodReads.com inbox…..
Hello,
Thank you for your interest in friending me, but I’m looking for friends who read similar books to what I read, who have more BOOKS listed than FRIENDS, and who’s main objective is not trying to sell me something.
Sincerely,
Patti
My reply was…..
Please! Buy my book! Pay double the price! I can’t feed my children!!!!!!!
My question is…..
WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU TAKE THE TIME TO SEND ME A MESSAGE TELLING ME YOU DON’T WANT TO BE MY FRIEND!?
#GoFuckYourself
Last night I went to my good friend Brian Newmans show and had an amazing time. Before which I went to my good friend Chris Santos’ restaurant and had an equally amazing time eating amazing food. After which I retired to my bar Ludlow Manor and had an even more amazing time. I was dancing to amazing music and drinking amazing American beer. At this point I would like to discontinue the use of the word amazing in this blog.
I used to hate the word blog. But I’ve learned to embellish it. I mean shit, what the fuck else am I going to call it?All of my good friends were there including TJ the Jew who I haven’t seen in nearly a month.
To the random blonde girl that seemed more interested in getting into my bed than dancing the night away, I salute you.
To the cab driver that twice tried to take me to the FDR after my having told him exactly which route I wanted to go, go fuck your mother. I’m glad I got out of your peice of shit cab and found someone who was willing to go the correct route.
To my good friend who reminded me about the fact that I told a cab driver to go fuck himself for taking the wrong route… thank you for remembering what is a blur to me.
At this point I’m hovering somewhere between tired and hungry, drunk and hungover, awake and asleep.
I’m glad I have this blog to share this momemt with you. Have an amazing New Years Eve.
Something tells me I’ll be back later today.
[I'm posting this song but before I do so I would like to point out that it is not about dancing, but rather about masturbation]
I will never understand why people have fake laughs. You hear them every day. In the grocery store, on the subway, in the office…. It’s their way of being polite, but if you ask me, they’re just being an asshole.
Instead of being fake, why not just be real. If the joke isn’t funny, don’t laugh. Or better yet, tell the person their joke wasn’t funny. If they’re any kind of a sport, you’ll have a new friend for life. Then again, if their jokes aren’t funny you probably don’t want to be their friend.
It’s when you can’t tell that people are laughing the fake laugh that you should concider ending your carreer as a comedian. Of course if you can’t tell the difference between the real and the fake you’ll go on telling the shitty jokes forever, therefore it is the fake laughers responsibilty to put an end to this madeness.
Be real. Don’t be an asshole.
Now that I’ve somewhat recovered from my Halloween party at my new bar (Which could not have been better. Thank you to everyone who came and gave a shit about how you looked. You know who you are.) I must reflect on what it feels like to walk down the street being a rock n roller in 2011.
To the free world, I look like I’m wearing a costume on a daily basis. But when you’ve been doing it for as long as I have, everyone else looks as though they’re in a costume of corporate proportions and somewhere within lies a person dying to break out of their appointed shell.
What I don’t understand is the rock n roller that goes to a Halloween party dressed as a rock n roller. You spend your entire life being somewhat uncomfortable in public places such as the subway, mostly because you would feel more uncomfortable dressed as a “normal” person, yet on the one day per year that you get to wear a costume and not feel uncomfortable -you totally blow it and dress the same as you would on any given Tuesday.
I don’t get it.
A rock n roller dressing like a rock n roller on Halloween is pretty much admitting to the free world that you’re faking it the other 364 days per year.
