Confessions of aDangerous Mime

Is summer Schvitz Fest ’05 over yet? I cants stands its nos mores!!! I sweat wherever I go, on the go, or thinking of van Gogh. Sweat, sweat, sweat, when I eat, when I sleep, when I peep, and when my penis seeps. It doesn’t give me the creeps, but I’m sick of people staring at mees on the subway. They must go, oh look, it’s a moderately overweight sorta-Jewish looking fellow sweating charlie buckets, so let’s stare at him. And why is there corn in his mouth? If I lived in any other city would I not sweat as much? Is AC the real reason people own cars? Or is it so you can go to Costco and buy discount versions of the Hitch DVD in bulk? But I have bigger issues. So much that I got subscriptions. Why do girls look so great when they’re wearing sunglasses, and the minute they’re off their face, it’s Pug Uglyville? Why has the lord cursed me by letting me work a few blocks away from the Corner Bistro? I know that’s a good thing, but I’m gonna be more porky than Porky’s Revenge meets Meatballs II by the end of the year. And hey, you idiots, why are you idiots? If you’re so stressed out don’t sit down and take a stress test proctored by those alien religious people who want you to buy all the remaining VHS copies of Battlefield Earth, go take a shower, masturbate, smoke pot, or eat more cubano sandwiches, they’re good for you. What else isn’t coming up Milhouse? Uh… EVERYTHING! Saw the Kaiser Chiefs last noche (and also got to wish Jason Productshop a pre-schlappy b-day). Les KC sure were rip-roarin, crowd-pleasin, riot predictin, and furthered my lovin of seeing bands with only one album under the belt before they turn to shit. But Webster Hall, why are you a great venue held back by being such a shithole? The sound guy and the dude in charge of air conditioning should have their collective balls ripped off and sent in the mail to their mothers on Father’s Day. And that’s not even the 1/886th of it. As I ran down the stairs at Union Squares to catch an N/R/BBQ train, something wasn’t right. There was a train in the station, yet its doors were not opening. I seized the op and headed to the front of the train, all in the name of good transferringnessness. When I got there, I saw a few people looking between the crevasse of the platform and the bottom of the train. Was it their keys that were lost? NO, there was a person’s body lying underneath the fuc&ing train. And that body was not moving. The police qwikly came and pushed everyone away. What had happened to the person I will never know, but I wonder, juss like the kids in Stand By Me who seeked the body of Ray Brauer. The moral of all this jibber jabber jaw linkless nonsense seussical sassy shabazz sassafras? Be safe, call your mom (she worries), carry a towel, ugly chicks should always wear sunglasses, every new band should release one great debut and then call it quits, McDonald’s ice cream is a good substitute for DQ when you don’t have a DQ, remember that Cuba Gooding Jr was in Boyz in da Hood, root for a I-95/495 World Series, trim your nose hair, split a Pig Out at Virgil’s but skip the apps, always blame farts on other people, send me more links BUT stop asking me to link to your site if all you have are words and no pictures, send me free stuff (cause everyone loves free stuff), and frynally, keep your thighs between my face and keep reaching for the stars.