Last week for Father’s Day the family went out fluke fishing on a party boat. There were like 20 of us and all we caught was drunk. Is that how that joke goes? Caught a drunk? Whatever it is, we didn’t get any fish. But Crissie found a new use for Uncle Lonnie: a human beer holder. For six hours straight she put him to work. It was awesome. Everyone needs a retarded beer holder in their life.
Then on Thursday June 21st my friends at Nocturnal Skateshop hosted a book signing party for Skinema. It was a pretty mellow turn out which allowed me to skip my slide show and go with the speed-befriending performance. It’s sort of like speed-dating but with no intention of sex. I basically had the chance to talk and drink a beer with each person individually which is how I prefer it. (Beer that Nocturnal and our own pockets had to supply since beer is so hard to come by for people in Brooklyn. Did you know that’s what the war in Iraq is over? Beer, not oil. Why do you think Viche keeps sending reporters over there? To try and rescue the beer. Good luck, guys.)
One thing that’s great about the book is that it’s encouraging people to tell me their most sordid sex stories. My favorite thus far is the one guy who picked up a businesswoman out side Nocturnal once, took her home and was humping her from behind while she was having an argument with her husband on her cellphone. The guy started feeling bad but the lady said, “Don’t worry, my husband hasn’t had sex with me in three years. Not since his accident. He’s a paraplegic now in a wheelchair.” Then he REALLY started feeling bad. Talk about instant boner removal. Yeah, everybody has stories. It’s great.
I did learn that certain drawings I do go over better than others.
People like:
Fat Hitler
Crabs
Unicorns
Happy September 11th Cakes
Naked women
People dislike:
Penises
Animals that may or may not be a dog or a pony
Cars with guns on top
Cactus
Clouds with birds
A black man hit on my wife at the party. It made me feel good in a way to think my family is equal opportunity in our sexuality; earlier in the day Crissie commented on a sexy black woman, then later that night gets hit on by a black man. It’s as if for one day my wife was the cream inside an Oreo. She showed the black man her ring and said she was married. And of course the black man shot back a perfectly timed response, as black men are known to do, “Oh. I respect that. How about your girlfriends? You got some girlfriends you could hook me up with?”
I saw my friend Jimmy at Nocturnal and he said, “Do you remember like 6 years ago at FDR when you saw my Spitfire tattoo and you made fun of me like, ‘nice tattoo’?”
“No, Jim. I don’t remember. I make fun of so many people.”
“Well, I remember and I never stopped thinking about it.” And he rolled up his sleeve and showed me a lady with some flowers where the Spitfire tattoo must have been. My joking made him cover it up. It made me feel kind of powerful. And earlier that day I was at my buddy Jason Goldberg’s Olde City tattoo shop. and some goofy grown-ass man was walking by and said to himself, “Maybe, I should get a tattoo.” I put my hand out in front of him and said, “I think you should. Today is the day.” And I shit you not, he said, “ I think it is.” And went in and got his first tattoo ever. I think it was a butterfly on his shoulder or maybe some Arab writing. Either way, my powers of suggestion might be more powerful than I ever knew. I‘m considering starting a cult.
