i heard the dude blamed the chick. i heard the chick blamed the snake. i heard they were naked when they got busted.

If anyone is planning future vacations, I'd advise them to stay clear of Ft. Wayne, IN. My trip was fine, my rental car was shiny and new and I drove like a swallow flies. My hotel was a suite with a couch and 90 channels on the TV (except no Cinemax!!!!), the pool was small but deserted. I ate alone at a supper club type place, overpriced but on the company dime of course. I learned a thing or two, but most of my mental energy was absorbed by renting my car and checking into hotel and such. It felt like a vacation, and now it's hard to believe the week is over already. I highly recommend taking business trips.

So this is a holiday weekend, and while I'm not going anywhere exciting, I plan on having a terrific time. Saturday I'm going to see Saturday Looks Good To Me play for the first time since St. Patrick's weekend of reunion bliss, hopefully they will have a lineup suited for rockin' out this time. Any chicago residents are welcome to come along, no pun intended. Sunday and most of Monday M is off, so I'll probably be dragged somewhere that involves exchanging money for goods or services, but hopefully enjoy myself. What I really miss since moving here is grilling, G. Foreman doesn't quite cut it. If anyone has a grill, invite me over, I'll bring the finest meats available.

If for whatever reason I was dragged onto an open mic stage with only my electric guitar and amp, here are the songs I'd play:

1. "Moonage Daydream" - David Bowie
2. "Box Elder" - Pavement
3. "Let's Shake Hands" - White Stripes

What is the deal with Tom Cruise??? Even I wouldn't be that excited if I was dating Katie Holmes.

Watched the Criterion DVD of Hoop Dreams on Tuesday. A great documentary without a grandstanding director hogging camera time. (Though I do like 85% of each M. Moore film).

I bought the new S-K album yesterday, along with the new Malkmus. You can stream the former here, though you should just buy it. It comes with a live DVD.

The Sober Truth

Finally, someone asks for advice:

I have a problem. You see, I am in college right now...and find myself single. I'm very alone...and find myself drinking...by myself. Does drinking by yourself make you a loser?

Drunken in the Dark

Sorry for taking so long to respond, DITD, but I had nearly given up on the chance that anyone would actually ask for my advice. You see, it gets very lonely in this virtual ivory tower of mine, though I appear to have everything that a proud blog-owner could want (a loyal readership, an increasing hit-counter, membership to the exclusive 'bloggers-only' clubs around town), I longed desperately for some contact. A comment here or there, or hopefully, a sincere email asking for advice. I was lonely, just like you DITD. And when you are lonely, you want to do anything you can to make you feel differently. Such as... turning to alcohol. Somehow, the magic properties of alcohol affect us in such a way to make certain things easier to take, such as being lonely, dancing, cleaning your apartment, meeting your girlfriend's parents, mowing the lawn, going to the dentist, playing frisbee, flying kites, driving, going to work, sleeping, eating cereal, showering, going to church, voting, watching reality TV, and blogging.

Back to your question: drinking alone doesn't necessarily make you a loser. Everyone at some time or another enjoys a drinky drink to soak up their troubles, there's nothing wrong with that. But the thing is, drinking alone kind of sucks compared to drinking with other people. And the good thing about being in college is that everyone likes drinking. It is easy to find people to drink with! It's like that old Dave Chappelle joke about smoking weed with a Klan member; there's pretty much no reason anyone would refuse to drink with you if you ask them. As far as being single, that's fine too, and there's nothing more exciting than being single and drinking with a bunch of other single people. Even if you end up back home alone, it'll be a better time than sitting home all night drinking and reading some idiot's blog. You also have to enjoy being single, because someday you will experience a suffocating relationship and look back on this time as a golden age.

You should probably know that while typing I've been enjoying a very cold gin martini, and I'm alone in the apartment. Am I a loser? Well, depends on who you ask. But I have no qualms. In the past I went through my heavy share of ultradepressing drinking alone moments, but you'll always, hopefully, bounce back into drinking with others and making out with their friends.

If you have any questions, or just want an entire blog post devoted to a subject of your choice, please send an email to the address on the right.

Chaotic

As loyalists may know, during the day I spend the time I'm supposed to be working on boring office-y things daydreaming about being a Pop Culture commentator, or 'Fundit" on VH1. Well, I decided that I wouldn't be a very promising pop culture commentator if I accrued all my pop culture knowledge by reading blogs and online hipster magazines; I need more first-hand experience. I need to be 'in the shit,' as Vietnam veterans would put it. This means I need to watch more bad TV.

It just so happens that I'm lucky enough to live with someone who not only subscribes to US Weekly, but also has been talking seemingly nonstop for the past few weeks about the Britney Spears/K-Fed reality show, which finally aired last night on UPN. I figured this was the moment I've been waiting for to immerse myself fully and without guilt into the bile of popular culture.

Like the earlier alluded-to veterans, I think I may have terrifying flashbacks for years to come. Mrs. Spears has obviously been emotionally damaged by spending the last 6 or 7 years surrounded by people who dress her and do her hair and feel compelled (i.e. are paid) to carry on a conversation with her and seem interested. When you see a video or picture of her in a magazine you don't think about the fact that she never graduated high school and is possibly too stupid to be executed for any crimes; you think about the fact that her ass is the size and shape of a basketball.

I did manage to watch the entire hour. I should get a certificate or a plaque. To sum up: for the first half hour, Britney acts like a retarded donkey and complains that she needs companionship (is horny) and doesn't believe in marriage. In the second half, she brings K-Fed, who she met a couple times before, to London to give her some companionship at least three times a day. That's pretty much it. Even worse was the fact that instead of the traditional reality show look, the entire program was shot by Britney and her entourage on handheld cameras, giving it the weird combination of The Blair Witch Project meets a junior high slumber party.

After the show was over, I tried to cleanse the soul with the Velvet Underground, a chapter of One Hundred Years of Solitude, and the first act of Bottle Rocket, but nothing could make me clean again. On the plus side, it made going to work today much more enjoyable than usual.

Best News I've Heard All Week

"Speaking of mothers, let me give that oatmeal some brown sugar!"

The best show on TV (...ever?) gets renewed for another full season. If you don't think it's funny, you are banned from the blog.

I could throw you a party every single day

It always looks like trouble when a trip to the library is the most exciting part of your weekend, narrowly edging the trips to the produce market and Target, plus a dvd viewing of The Life Aquatic and the subsequent early-70s David Bowie marathon. On Friday M and I each chose numerically-titled movies to rent (Ocean's 12 vs. The Third Man, the former failed to live up to already low expectations, the latter is being saved for tonight.) Last week I finally got my state of IL driver's license, meaning no more fantastic tales of authority figures questioning my age (which last occurred at the Miller Brewery tour). I went Friday during lunch, and was lucky enough to get to stand in five separate lines. A year and change ago I took the State exam to be an employee of the DMV, I believed I did quite well on the test (which basically makes sure you're not dyslexic, and, using carefully worded multiple-choice questions, makes sure that when dealing with customers, you don't go batshit freaking insane), but, unfortunately there were no opening in my particular county of residence. Though at present it's hard to tell whether or not I'd like that particular career field more than my current one, I will have to agree that I'm less numb with my current position. The guy who administered the vision test (which I barely passed, stupid new contacts) was too lazy to push the little buttons on the control panel, so he simply held them down permanently with thumb-tacks, leaving his hands free to idly fondle himself while he stared off into space with his glazed eyes and mumble in a monotone. You have to admire someone with a job like that who says, "now, this job isn't too bad, but why do I have to move my fingers? I'm not your goddamned slave!" Granted, the fact that all the people in front of me were reading the exact same letters, and noticing the flashing lights on both sides, kind of helped me get through some of the tricky ones at the beginning. Like G and O, those bastards.

Thunder-stealer

Here's why the internet is wonderful: Last winter I included a song by Annie on my 'Best of 2004' mixtape, but her album isn't being released in the US until next month! Here's a great article from the Times.

I'm not an attention grabbing 'lookatme, lookatme, itsmybirthday, givemepresents!' type of person, in fact, I feel kinda smarmy telling anyone that my birthday is coming up. Big deal, a birthday. I don't want any presents, presents are usually disappointing. But it seems I work with someone who needs to tell everyone in the world (office) that it's her birthday, which happens to be on the same day (and year) as mine. And this is fine, she's a good person, happy birthday to her. But this also means we'd be standing next to each other, and a million and three people would come up and wish her a happy birthday, or give her a card or a big bag of cash, and she'd say 'it's his birthday too,' and whoever would say 'oh, i didn't know. uh..... happy birthday.' I signed a card for her that someone passed around the office. It had fifty signatures on it, each with a personal message. And the weird thing is, she's been working there less than a year, so this is the first birthday she's had. So it's not like a big annual tradition or anything. Today a group of 14 of us went out for lunch, and her birthday was supposed to be the occasion. I'd guess barely half knew it was mine too. So when the bill comes, someone says, "OK, divide by 13, since it's her birthday lunch, she doesn't have to pay." And I get out my wallet and someone else whispers back 'well, it's his birthday too.' then there is a long awkward pause, before the first person says, 'well, ok, divide it by 12 then.' And everyone grumbles when they hear what they owe, and one person tells me to put my wallet away while at least 10 others curse my name. I tried making up for it by buying a round of beers after work, but I still felt pretty much like an asshole.

Remember the weight of the world is the sound we used to buy/On cassette and 45

I know this blog has sucked lately, my little cumquats, and I promise to try harder in the future. But, yet, while I can apologize 'til my fingers are blue in the tips, you, gentle reader, have not exactly seduced me into increasing my output. I have received zero legitimate advice-seeking emails. And that fucking hurts, my little chickadees. So, as a last ditch effort, I'm changing my official Wyld Stallyns blog email address. Perhaps the original one was a bit too controversial. But, on the other hand, you are, hopefully on an increasingly routine basis typing a URL into your web browser of choice that reads suspiciously like a gay porn website, if you really think about it. So, for all blog-related purposes, including those poor souls seeking life-changing advice, my new email address is: seacrest_out@email.com (note the underbar)

Here's why this summer will rule: June 11-17 I'm going on vacation. And, though I've been to various locales throughout the years, and have gone weeks and even months without working, this will be the first time that I will be taking 'vacation days' while taking a week off. This means I don't have to go into work for a week, BUT I STILL GET PAID AS USUAL!!! How amazing is that!!! Think about it for a second: Last week I worked my ass off, my-new-contact-lens-wearing-eyes were burned out of their sockets staring at the computer. And the week of June 13-17 I won't work a single minute. And I'll get paid the exact same amount! Wowzers!!! To make matters more interesting, I'll be spending my time off in New York City, where my goal will be to not sleep the entire time (though, after tickets were booked, I found out I'd by missing concerts here by Spoon, Sleater-Kinney, and Ted Leo/Rx. drag.) And, even weirder yet, I must shamefully admit that it will mark my first time ever on an airplane. And while on that airplane, I shall drink liquor for the first time ever, and also have first-time-ever-sex in the bathroom. It will be the day I finally become a man, June 11, mark yr calendars y'all.

Also, summer goodness: July 16-17 is the intonation music festival in chicago, curated by the snobbish kids at the great indie music zine Pitchfork. Some great bands and it's only 10 bucks a day, pay at the entrance. And the next week is Lollapolooza, which is a million (i.e. 5) times more expensive, and the lineup isn't exactly that wonderful so far, but i've never been to any sort of huge summer music festival type thing before, so I figured the experience would be worth the 100-dollar two day pass. Anyone who wants to come can crash on my floor. Plus, the Pixies are playing!

But, reasons the summer might suck include: this. Any further two-week lapses in blogging can be attributed to me getting my ass kicked by a group of angry 14-year olds.

In more boring news: Last weekend I went on the Miller Brewery tour in Milwaukee, which was pretty cool for a free thing, and I learned from an informative video (narrated by High-Life-voice-over-guy turned dirty republican-campaign-ad-voice-over-guy) that 'Millertime' is the time when good times turn into great times, meaning, judging by the images in the informative video, at the precise moment when you are out at the bars with your wingman, when the girl you are eyeing up decides to sleep with you. I also got three free beers.

Later this month I'll be making my first ever business trip, to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Remember, kids: What happens in Fort Wayne, stays in Fort Wayne.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to my first ever work-related conference. It is less than a mile away from my building, but at least I get to miss a half-day because of it. I plan on composing future blog posts on my legal pad, just for you!

David Gordon Green's Undertow is now available on DVD, and well worth checking out. Buy All the Real Girls first though. Sleater-Kinney's new album, out May 24th, is one of the hardest rocking albums I've ever heard. I love the new Spoon (out next Tuesday) except I've listened to it so much on my iPod that I equate it with making the commute to work. My plan to become healthy and then, eventually, huge with muscle-mass, has hit a snag, as today my bike-riding warmup hit a snag when my right knee freaked-out big time. So I came back downstairs, though if anyone asks, I can bench 225.

And, finally and most self-involved, Wednesday is my 26th birthday (I know you forgot, fuckers). M says she has made secret plans for me that night (i'm guessing dinner at a soul food restaurant) and also sunday the 8th. I'm hoping the sunday means a ticket to the Built to Spill show, and not a trip to the aquarium, but I'm not getting my hopes up at all.