My favorite thing this week is WATCHING THIS (from :19-:24). I know, I know, late to the party. I've dabbled in Rick and Morty over the years but never had the time or energy or want or really even cared enough to start another fucking TV show. Fucking Netflix and shit, there's too goddamn much to catch up on. But, I relented, and the only winner here is me. Of course I love it. I always knew I would. Luckily, if you don't care about sleep you can plow through the 30 episodes goddamn quick, like in a week (yes, I do other shit during the day and only really watch TV between midnight and 3am. Healthy, right? Probably explains my love for goddamn infomericals and my obsession with the clinically insane Cathy Mitchell and her RED COPPER 5 MINUTE CHEF. Or, some of my all-time favorites in THE MAGIC BULLET, the long form infomercial which I've watched on repeat for hours, literally, and I mean "literally" in the literal sense, not the hipster "literally" type of way, and the granddaddy of them all, the 28 minute masterpiece, THE RONCO ROTISSERIE. Seriously, 28 minutes?! I know I've wasted at least 20 hours of my life as I've seen this shit at least 40 or 50 times. Sad... Well, it would be if I hadn't wasted an equal amount of time WATCHING THIS and actually ended up getting a power pressure cooker; though not the one in the infomercial. It was Christmas gift and it is truly amazing. The tenderest chicken and pork I've ever eaten has come out of this thing, in a fraction of the time it would take in a crockpot. It's fucking so soft it's goddamn falling apart as you're pulling it out of the pressure cooker. And if you throw in some onions and peppers and tomatillos, and OH MY GOD. Wait, am I selling pressure cookers or writing a blog? Seriously, what should I be doing right now? Apparently, after a few bourbons I can't tell the difference. Is there a difference? What am I talking about? Jesus...).
It's weird but this past week has been good. No Asperger's meltdowns. No random obsessions to sidetrack me (apart from catching up on Rick and Morty, but that is just smart. Just fucking smart). And, no setbacks in my musical career like the ones which have basically defined the last two years of my life. It's good. Like really fucking good. It was so good, in fact, that I accidentally watched "Get Him to the Greek," one of my all-time favorite movies, and immediately was sad. I used to be Aldous. I still am sometimes. It's not always fun (in fact, it's mostly depressing) but it was/sometimes is so fucking exciting. I STILL SAY THIS ALL THE FUCKING TIME (though I usually substitute "Bradley Wik" for "Aldous Snow"). It's also weird but I cannot, abso-fucking-lutely cannot do accents (except for my New York accent, but that was hard-earned in the years I spent there) but I can mimic lines, like a parrot with Asperger's. I once even learned a shitload of lines from the movie so I could mimic his British accent enough to convince an entire group of strangers at a bar that I was from England, only to reveal that I'm not and they must be fucking idiots to not know. It went over so well. I almost got punched in the face by a girl who was ready to to go home with me only seconds earlier (she swung and I was not too drunk to dodge). It was a blast. Good times... I mean, how many times have we all DONE INTERVIEWS LIKE THIS... If you answered never, I would concur as I've not been on the Today Show either. But, the content rings true, in a completely not true kind of way, if that makes sense. Hopefully, it doesn't but perhaps you understand the deeper inner turmoil that haunts you daily and tries, unsuccessfully, yet forcefully, to undermine your purest intentions and your dreams and your relationships and your "normal" life as you search endlessly for a respite, however momentary, from the damage it's already inflicted which is growing inward and spreading with each passing hour as you dwell deeper and harder on your own insecurities and faults... Wait, that last one sounded sexual and was quite funny. "Deeper and harder" made me giggle. At last, a benefit of being an immature man. Take that world. "WHO'S RETARDED NOW?"
It's nice being at home while writing this for once and not in some crappy to mediocre hotel room. So nice, in fact (which I've said too many times tonight), that I'm going to call it a night earlier than normal (read: midnight) and sleep in my own fucking bed as long as I possibly can. Sorry for the short post, but fuck it, I don't care. Love all y'all. Goodnight muthafuckers!