the birthday week
On Tuesday I was fortunate enough to escape the clutches of death for the 26th year in a row without slipping into the gaping chasm of mental illness forged by my family’s gene/cess pool. It felt good and I celebrated by eating fatty german food, ice cream cake, and falling asleep.
I could have had the opportunity to be a judge at the Air Guitar competition that was happening at Mr. Smalls that evening. Craigums, former air guitar prodigy and winner of some prestigious air guitar awards, had been trying to track me down for a few weeks, but between the time I received and returned his call (10 minutes), he had already filled the position (by “The Voice of God”). I’ll be honest and admit that I was crushed/devastated/utterly destroyed, but it probably is for the better. Craigums said, “you know, I figured that you are pretty funny in the written form so you’re probably funny…you know…in the spoken form.”
I didn’t want to say anything then, but unfortunately, Craigums, I am brutally unfunny when I get in front of a microphone. Sure, I’ve have my moments, but most of the time I turn into a bumbling mumbling mess of awkwardness and poor timing. I have no concrete examples, but rest assured that most of the things that come out of my mouth and into a microphone illicit the response, “why would he say that?” Arguably, I make a much better heckler than anything.
The next day I went to see the Pirates beat the Nationals with Vin. He showed me an ingenious way to capitalize on the apathy of concession stand workers by showing them a cracked beer cup and saying, “this cup was cracked. Can I get a replacement beer?” I was afraid to do this myself because at 26 I still look younger than this barely 20 year old.
Other than that, this entire week has been somewhat of a huge clusterfuck in terms of work and other things that constitute “my life.” The ceiling in our hallway collapsed, work has been stupid, and Roboto can’t get it’s collective shit together to save it’s pathetic life. Also, motherfuck UPMC for billing me twice for different amounts for the same doctors visit that apparently took place at two separate locations. If anyone out there in internetland knows how I somehow was able to simultaneously receive a routine physical at Montefiore and Shadyside, please feel free to tell me what 20 different UPMC billing offices can’t.
Oh yeah, and tonight American Cheeseburgeris playing at Roboto with Brain Handle, Thrak, and Castle (formerly Pig God and Goat Crown). I was going to have a cookout at Roboto, but decided against it since I was bombarded with grown-up responsibilities and obligations all this week. I believe there will still be a grill, but you’ll have to bring your own food.
Also, the new issue of MRR should be coming out soon. My column is about wearing a chef coat.