knowing is half the battle

i say my depression was finally self-diagnosed, in definitive fashion, by me and myself last night as i observed the i-man lounging in bed between the hours of 6:30 and 8:30 in the pm. total navel-gaze freakout facilitated by the fact that i could not think of anything i wanted to do besides lie in bed and sulk and try to sleep. nothing sounded better. that was the only thing that sounder better, i swear: nothing. i felt/feel like nothing, might as well act accordingly. i don't get depressed often but when i do it's, it's there. it's something. sometimes better than those times when i'm flirting with depression, water-skiiing the lake, never dipping in and really joining the (pity) party. still getting drippy wet, though. love those mixed metaphors.

but i carried on, floated on as the floaters (detroit) might sing (not modest mouse, those guys were old-steezy in '99 - the floaters NEVER outstayed their welcome). went back to trash, the place that inexplicably depressed me on saturday with its T.G.I. McRock-n-Roll decor. six anti-bush buttons for a dollar = 18 points of flair for the price of a can of PBR. inexplicable sadness because the place is SUPREMELY FUCKING LOGICAL. everyone in brooklyn has to go to shitty places in manhattan like the luna lounge, the mercury lounge, and sin-e just to see their friends' bands play, so why not keep the action in the borough? and "maybe you should put a miss pacman up in there, get some money back there" as ghostface said (approx.).

yes, i went back for more last night, reminded of the place's logicality and that my own emotional response to the place was trash in itself. drew was there seeing his large-breasted ex-girlfriend play a set, so why wouldn't i hang out in the bar area with all of them and play some buck hunter 2? so i went, i had some fun. talked with the LB ExGF of drew about bugs for quite some time. centipedes, bedbugs, german roaches, um, the other kind too. i haven't seen drew forevs. he reminded me of this. i feel shitty every time i talk to him, like he's a slightly better version of me who's able to have a different hot girlfriend once a year. seriously, we're both smart, both good cooks, good-natured, funny, left-handed... he's just moreso. but still, the man is good so i left feeling rather good myself. his ex-gf's (or soon-to-be ex-gf's) are all great and super and they make me laugh too. fun fun, and i was good and kept it to two PBRs.

so why did i fall back into despair? i get home, my new roommate has a dude over. it's like, ok, i still haven't brought someone home to that place. so fuck you first of all (hate hate hate!), and secondly, your giggly bff was here for the first four nights of you living here, so does that mean i got myself two roommates for the price of one? are you incapable of sleeping alone? why not find some guys whose bedrooms are bigger than yours? - that still leaves 95% of new york, so it's not too much to ask. you're cute enough to not have to bring home long-haired greasy dudes with dirty black bookbags that they leave on my once-clean kitch table. (see, room is too small to hold backpack! you need improve away game.)

i was so sad. but why? the only time i saw dude and roommate last night was (1) on the way home as they were leaving and (2) on the way out as they were returning. so my problem is my own.

i even sniffed at dude's jean jacket (dirrrty) that he left on my chair (everything is MINES). fucker had an iggy and the stooges pin. bitch i've lived in three places in this life: city of detroit city, ann arbor ville, and brooklyn town. so if anyone has the right to rep iggy via a levi's jean jacket (I HAVE THE EXACT SAME ONE BUT CLEANER AND SMALLER, ARGGH), it's me.

then i realized what a loser i was for caring. and that, in essence, is where we are today, children.

put the L back up on my forehead, mine faded

because i'm lazy and we're clever

paulie : how's the chick juggling going?
moi: i've lost interest
moi: the new york girl and i are definitely not right for each other - i told her about these cool female dickies pants i bought at beacon's closet
paulie : pimping ain't easy
moi: and then she said "women's pants? weird but whatever."
moi: that killed her for me
paulie : oh man. what a weirdo
moi: COMPLETELY.
paulie : you take for granted people will be the same as you in new york
paulie : that you listen to the same things, you have a basic baseline sensibility in common
moi: exactly, cuz if they ain't, i can always find 50 more bitches who are
paulie : whereas in the midwest if you say you like olivia tremor control it's revelation and a given that you will be bff's with that person. ugh.
paulie : a 19 year old came up to me at this show and was like, 'who was that band jsut on? i have one song i downloaded by them but i wanna know so i can totally go home and download some more!!'
moi: hahahaha.
moi: "i know this band, but i wanna talk to someone about them"
moi: or something?
moi: weird.
paulie : because it was this band that played basically all olivia tremor control songs
paulie : so i was excited cuz it was me being 16 all over again and i was really into it
moi: oh i see.
moi: that's cool
paulie : yeah, but it is not cool to talk to me about it. i'm from new york.
paulie : hahaha
moi: oh shit. it must be hard to hide your boredom.
paulie : oh, what's the point of hiding it when it spews from everyone of my new york orifices. hahaha
paulie : i'm just kidding.
paulie : kinda
moi: yeah. adjustment.
paulie : yeah. i need to stop being a baby is what i need to do. we just got cable, so
paulie : and it's digital cable so it's doubly awesome. so how's work and stuff?
moi: bad but manageable.
paulie : man, law school is more like law TOOLS
moi: hah. that's what i've heard.
moi: think of all the lawyers in america and think of them in their mid-twenties
moi: and there you go.
paulie : yeah, basically that's true.

makin' out is hard to do

when you're a dude with little to no game, and probably like 4.5-5.5 on the hotornot scale (like me), you might have a bit of troubs trying to convince a fine young lady to suck your face. it's just the nature of things. granted, you probably would have little trouble getting a non-fine lady to suck your face - depending on your standards, the weather, the vagarities of the price of PBR in brooklyn, etc.

all in all, though, it can be a reliable gambit. find a fat lady on the internet, buy her dinner, hold your breath, and go to town. but where's the fun in that? you can't tell anyone about it, and you just end up feeling guilty after you tittyfuck her. (true story.)

so the next-best option is to find a girl you're sorta into, like say a chick with a great record collection and little in the way of social skills, or maybe a totes boring chick with a good heart who laughs at everything you say. they should be slightly better than average-looking. of course these females actually might have options, so you have to do some groundwork. show up at her DJ night, IM her all day when the boss is out of town, annoying shit like that. cook her dinner, meet her friends, ugh, then like in a week or two you can totally suck her face for a minute. is it worth? ehh... sure. yeah it is. if you're an average-looking dude with no game, it's how the world works. you can't go against the nature of things.

best party store

hm, let's see. always liked Phone Don for Drugs.

also, that one with the forties is nice.

eff a party store

at first when i began this blog, i thought, "what the world needs is a blog about three chaldean party store employees in detroit around the turn of the nineties." then the marijuana wore off.

but now that i'm on the wagon (got my 48-hour chip coming around about 7pm tonite, babies!) , i see clearly that the world does indeed need a blog named "party store," an apt description (or at least a suggestion) for a truly great repository of my brilliantly feeble thoughts.

so let's talk about me, not about abdul, habib, or any of those other be-gelled west bloomfield dwellers (movin' on up from SOUTHFIELD, WHAT??). they remain in my heart as always, but when they switched up the party store sign and the name of the stroh, i lost a measure of my allegiance to the brothers. then one of them ran off to ann arbor to make it in the Big College City and found that as a purveyor of alcohol to minors, he was an instant campus celeb. but i digress.

we'll see where this blog takes us, but more than likely it will never surpass the peak of my young life, the early achievement that leaves me bitter to this day: my small role in the 1983 Disney epic Tiger Town, filmed in my beloved motown. tis true, this boy's image was committed to celluloid before stepping foot in first grade. as the youngest tyke on the set, i was often the center of attention, even from the waning star, roy scheider. the supreme shark-battler himself called me cheez-ball, because i loved eating cheez-balls. and oh how i did eat those planters cheez-balls...

and now i'm some pothead loser with a dead-end job in new york city. moved here because i thought it would become like the god of this shit. take the city like the muppets done did. invent a new style of rap? pen a novel or two? become a noted character actor based on my oddly compelling looks? nah, never that.

now i'm damn near addicted to the city but i have so few funds with which to enjoy the place. should i maybe cut back on those compulsive phone sex calls?

oh well, at least they leave me pretty well alone here at the jay-oh. i can read my favorite blogs like this and that. keep up with the best scoops and snaps, what have you. bossman don't botha the i-man too much, so maybe i'll just have to pass the savings on to you, fair reader.