Y'all Come Here Often? - Bad Music and the Bathroom Dilemma

If you read my previous post on Easy Listening Music being hard to listen to, then you're familiar with how music effects me. I took this to a new level though. A few days ago when I was at Linen's n Things shopping for a new wider-mouth garbage can to replace our current "trendy retro diner-looking cylindrical too-narrow-to-fill-up-a-full-bag-of-trash so I'm a moron for buying it" can, my bladder gave me the sign that it's time to duck into the men's room and take a leak.

As I walk into the bathroom, that meandering music that was playing in the store suddenly is louder. It's a duet - a "country" ballad (it's really just a pop tune with lap steel guitar and two singers who have a southern twang in their voices) being sung by a male and female. So I unzip as I start concentrating on how bad this song is and how cheezy the lyrics are. Damn...I really have to pee now. Ok Armen, relax dude.

But I can't help concentrating EVEN HARDER on ignoring this horrible music. My god! Someone actually advanced money to record this tune!! It won't stop playing. I have to pee so badly...is this song going to end???? I can't believe that a record company fronted over $90,000 to a radio promoter to get this thing on the air! Ohhh I can't pee now!!!! This sucks!! Those poor pierced and tattooed slacker bastards that work at Borders actually have to listen to the same tune inside their stores every day because the label is paying $5000 a month for in-store play.

Now I feel like an idiot standing here and not being able to pee! This song is so bad that I'm screwing myself out of one of the great sensations of relief that a human being can feel. Hundreds of dollars in royalties are pouring in to the songwriters and the label this very second as I stand here - pathetic, my bladder paralyzed by the inane lyrics. THIS BLOWS! Oh god...someone get me a catheter!!

I'm trapped in here with this sappy music, and I can't run out of the bathroom because I have to "go" so badly. Ugh! What a frigin' dilemma.

Finally after the song ended, I calmed myself down and "took care of business." Whew! I shouldn't let me self get all wound up like that. But man that was a horrible piss-poor excuse for a song!

However, in the end, everything came out okay.

I'm Not Making This Up

Is it me, or do you find it strange that there are laws prohibiting talking on the cell phone while driving, but no laws against applying makeup in rush-hour traffic while driving with your elbows?

When Pigs Fly - Roger Waters

I caught the Roger Waters concert at the Hollywood Bowl last week.
It's good to be alive!

Click on pics to enlarge











This was the best sounding and best mixed concert I'd ever been to in my life. The remodel of the Hollywood Bowl was money well spent!

Found some of the pics on these Flickr accounts

Little Known Facts

A few facts I've learned during my travels to the east coast:

1) You are allowed to take matches and double-edge razor blades onto a flight, but not toothpaste???? I was allowed to bring my matches onto my flight to the east coast, but my 5.5 ounce Tom's of Maine orange-mango toothpaste confiscated from my carry-on luggage! It has to be under 3 ounces. So much for "homeland security."

2) A household with at least one family member who is an immigrant of Armenian ethnicity over the age of 67 will have one giant yogurt or Cool Whip container in the bathtub to be used to as a rinsing aid while bathing.

3) People are okay with paying 99 cents for a full length song and $2.50 for a 30-second ring tone...a tone that they usually only listen to for about 5 seconds!

4) When you enter any Wal-Mart, you are very likely to hear a mother screaming at a child. And if you're lucky, you may even see her strike the kid.

How To Apologize, You Frigin' Loser

I received an email from a friend recently asking his advice on making up with his girlfriend. It was a night he couldn't remember. Being the good friend that I am, I feel it's my duty to deliver the best advice that I can muster up. I always shoot straight with my friends. Here's what I came up with:

1. Buy her flowers
Put a note in the flowers apologizing for being a loser. Make sure you don't put any Baby's Breath in with the arrangement. It will show her that you put effort into the arrangement and took the time to think about what a pathetic deadbeat you are. Also, don't buy carnations for her. Buying carnations shows her that you are a cheap bastard. DO NOT buy a gigantic arrangement either, because that's how women know you are lying.

2. Buy a box of chocolates
I shouldn't have to tell you this, but I know you well Jorge, so I'm only going to say this once: Do not remove or eat any of the chocolates before giving her the box you poor-excuse-for-a-boyfriend! And when I say "box of chocolates," I mean a nice box of something like See's Candies - not Raisinettes or Goobers. Do not stare at the box and salivate as if you want some chocolates. This is a sign that you are more interested in the chocolates than you are in making up with her. Also, don't just hand her the box of chocolates and then run into her kitchen asking, "hey, do you have any beer in here?" That will piss her off beyond belief! And alcohol is what got you into trouble in the first place you imbecile. Lastly, don't keep looking at your watch as you are confessing to her that you exhibited the behavior of barbarian. That's how women know you are lying!

3. Take her shopping.
Make sure you get her a dress and new shoes. As you pass by one of those shops that sell lotions, stop in and buy her a little something in there too. Ask her to pick something out. Chicks love all that vanilla, lime, melon, mint, facial/leg/foot lotion-scrub stuff. DO NOT pick up something and smell it and tell her that any of these scents or aromas remind you of an ex-girlfriend, you philistine! While shopping with her, repeat how much of a low-life and scoundrel you are apologizing profusely. Keep telling her that you can't believe how much of your bullshit she puts up with (because she does). Tell her that you will change, even though you know that it's an impossible task to do so. While you are telling her these lies, make sure that you don't keep looking down at the ground. That's how women know you are lying.

4. Take her out to a nice dinner wearing her new dress and shoes (SHE should be wearing the dress and shoes, not you, you freak!) While you're at dinner, tell her that you are having a hard time eating because all you can think about is what a horrible ignoramus you are. Make sure you are not continuously staring at the waitress's breasts or ass while you tell her all this. That's how women know you are lying.

5. Serenade her with a song that she likes. On second thought, scratch that because she'll know you are full of shit and lying.

6. Pay for an expensive full-body massage (for me, not for her, because I'm taking so much time to help save your oblivious, uncultured and insensible ass!). Do not tell her that you got me a massage or that I gave you this advice. She'll know that you're lying!

7. Get drunk, screw it up again, and start all over.

If all this is too hard for you to do, then dump her and get a new girlfriend. But remember, you'll have to start all over. There will be no end to your ass-kissing Jorgey because you are dim-witted, mindless and ill-bred. I only tell you this because I love you, you boorish slacker.

Hugs,
Armen

Easter Bunny?

I'm starting to discover all the wildlife in the middle of the city I live in - especially this new place we moved into at the beginning of last month. As you saw in my last post, I discovered a woodpecker that's a regular over here.

And now this little visitor showed up in my backyard unannounced a few days before Easter. Isn't that weird? It's a bunny, and it's a few days before easter! I'm a bit suspicious now.



If some fat dude with a beard shows up in my backyard in the middle of December, it's going to throw a serious wrench in my entire belief system I've developed as an adult!

Little Pecker!

I'm enjoying the new place we moved into now that we're back home, but this is what I wake up to every morning - a woodpecker rapidly slamming his beak into a telephone pole just outside my bedroom!

I have a love/hate relationship with this little guy. I get annoyed as hell when I'm trying to sleep and he's jackhammering away. But then again, he has go to work just like the rest of us, and he's fun to watch. The bummer for him is that he has to wear the same silly clothes every single day while I can sit in my studio and work in my underwear if I want to!

Little Pecker:

It's in the Stars...NOT!

Author and astronomer Carl Sagan stated, "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence." This leads me to the subject of Astrology. I have never seen any convincing evidence that Astrology is anything more than -- I'll quote my nephew when he was four years old -- "more than nothing." Anybody who tells me through a paragraph in the newspaper "it's a bad day to go out" when I have my health and the weather is beautiful is completely full of crap. "Today is the wrong day to make a decision about money" is another moronic blanket statement that you'll read. Granted, this stuff's fun to read, like your fortune inside of a stale cookie, but I just don't buy it.

Segue to the coffee house that I was at tonight with my wife and sister, and I'm leaning on the counter while listening to the barista (that's fancy language for "the dude making your drink") talking to another customer. It's been a long time since I've heard someone talk so much bullshit, but it was entertaining as hell. My ears perked up in the middle of the conversation when his 20-something, wide-eyed, Fiona-Apple-looking assistant told the customer ahead of me, "Yeah, he's REAL good at this stuff!" The coffee dude had told the customer in front of me, "Oh it figures that happened to you. You're a Capricorn, and Capricorns make hasty decisions like that."

The customer was this 5' 5" New York City tongue-in-cheek tough guy (see Bruce Willis) who just smirked and said, "I not a Capricaun. Whe'd ja get dat?"

"She told me" as coffee boy points to tough guy's overly-made up, crazy-colored-clothes-from-a-thrift-store wearing girlfriend who was chewing gum real fast and in her mafia-mistress-nasal voice looked at tough guy and said, "I thuawt you wuh ah Capricuan."

Tough guy just shook his head. Coffee boy said, "Well, I'm usually real good at this. You must be a Cancer. Cancers always have a sad look on their face like you." (Could the guy be more insulting to this customer? lol)

I started laughing because that's the stupidest thing I've heard in months. Tough guy looked at me and chuckled saying, "Wrong again. I'm a Libra."

Coffee boy: "Oh, that makes sense because Libras and Cancers are very similar."

I just had to get in on this!! Coffee boy is now an infected open wound and I'm feeling like hydrogen peroxide! I blurted, "Is this like guessing your weight at the carnival?" He wasn't amused and doing his best not to act flustered. I asked, "What about me? Guess what sign and weight I am."

This dude actually stopped what he was doing and stared right into my eyes...the kind of stare you'd see from a bad actor who's completely over-acting. He said, "Well, you're not a Leo because you're hair is thinning a bit in the back and Leo's never really lose their hair."

A guy who was mixing sugar into his coffee who was completely bald snapped his head around laughing and said, "I'm a Leo,"as he felt his own bald head with his hand. Now all of us around the counter are chuckling. I said, "Well, there goes that theory. Guess again."

Him: "You're probably a Sagittarius."
Me: "Nope. Try again."
Him: "Well, then you're either a Cancer or Taurus."
Me: "You're close." (whatever that means. I just wanted to see what he'd say.)
Him: "Ok. Then you're a, umm...hmmm...let's see...

I'm done with this dude, so I just tell him, "I'm an Aquarius."

"Oh that makes sense now because Aquarius' are similar to Sagittarius'."

I walk back to the table. An hour later they're closing up and he's holding the door for everyone. As I get up from our table, I say to my wife, "You have real good intuition. I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to answer me quickly. That guy at the door, what do you think his astrological sign is?"

"Leo?" she says, shrugging.

So I walk up to the guy and I say, "Ok, it's my turn. Are you a Leo or Sagittarius?" He says (I swear on my Grandmother's grave), "Sag." I can't help but laugh telling him that my wife said Leo and I pulled Sagittarius right out of my ass.

The poor bastard should've read his horoscope. It may've told him it's not a good night to show off his clairvoyant astrological expertise. Or maybe it would've told him tonight he’d be the life of the party!