Ahem.

First you have to wake up Elon James White. Then the rest works itself out.

Between the women I know, the men I know, and basically all of their interaction with me, this week has been one of the suckiest to date. I was ignored, I was ambushed, I was bitten(no, that WASN’T sarcasm or any sort of humorous double entoundra) Those things didn’t happen in that order but it all added to an absoulutely GREAT week.

I blame fucking Rob Paravonian.

While my life was slowly rotting Mr. Particle Board was all in the land of sun and stars, doing “showcases” and having “fun”. And is it just coincidence that my hell started right when he was leaving? I think NOT. So what now that he’s back things are still kinda sucking THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

What in holy hell is my point?

I don’t think I have one. I think I just wanted to curse Paravonian because while he enjoyed life and happiness I slowly died on the inside. (shout out to Molly, a funny comedian who threw that in to her set. I think its hysterical)

Tonights Pro Shop was pre-empted for the Super Bowl. Not that we couldn’t do our show, it was that people didn’t show up HENCE no show. A lovely day in the East Village.

So I’ve decided to curse the gods and scream ephitaphs until i can’t take it anymore. Then, right at that point I’ll spit and die while cursing my miserable existence.

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