Cocktober Fest in Chicago

I'm currently sitting at the lovely Pagoda Red Gallery in Chicago helping out Lors and M since they were unexpectedly short staffed today. Tonight we’re going to Redfish to hear Toronzo. That will be a guaranteed good time. Last night I met Nivea for dinner and she surprised me not only with treating me to dinner (a rare occurrence), but she also received her latest royalty statement and a check for $14,500! Pretty fucking awesome. We celebrated with Margaritas, Mariachis, Marlboro Lights, and some Mole.

It’s Cocktober fest in Boystown here, so the “boys” are running around wild and hyped up on Viagra, "hole stretching," and other assorted recreational drugs. Crazy gay shit.

I’m thinking about going on a Blog strike so I can concentrate on my other writing, which has been pretty dismal for many months. I’m also going to demand better wages and benefits! Hopefully there won’t be any union scabbing.

Speaking of writing, BP in the Eng Dept has a story in the October issue of Esquire. I don’t know who in Esquireville is in charge of editorial production or art direction, but the story is laid out in single sentences on the bottom header of non-contiguous pages. While it's nice to have your name blasted on the cover, reading a story in this graphical layout makes following it rather difficult and distracting with all the ad pages you have to zip through to get back to the story. My advice is to cut out each sentence and glue it to a separate sheet of paper - like serial killers writing ransom notes - to have a continuous story.

Speaking of serial killers, I was listening to "Thieves" by Ministry on my way up here and all I could think of was that this was the kind of song you have playing as background music when you're chopping up bodies in a wood chipper. Super satanically intense and not really good daytime driving music.

Good “E!” quote of the day: “Flavor Flav looks like a turd with a face on it.”

Stay tuned for strike.