It appears that gay men with tribal tattoos are equally as douchy as straight men with them.

This is the exchange between the gay man in front of me - with his fair share of cheese-dick tribal art on his arms and the hungover Starbucks employee.

Tribal Gay Guy : Do you all tip share?
Starbucks Gay Guy : yes.
Tribal Gay Guy : oh i see…. can I give you your tip now?
Starbucks Gay Guy : um, no.
Tribal Gay Guy : Are you sure? I can’t give you a separate tip?
Starbucks Gay Guy : um, no?
Tribal Gay Guy : Oh, I was gonna give you a kiss.
Starbucks Gay Guy : (basically puts on a “seriously, are you fucking kidding me? I’m working, dude” look on his face)

That’s right, “the douchiness of tribal tattoos transcends sexual orientation” (thanks Amanda).

It was DJ name hunting time not long ago and since I can’t make any sort of decision by myself i polled my more clever and creative friends for suggestions. Here’s the short list.

DJ Huxtable
DJ PuddingPop
DJ InsertWittyNameHere
DJ Insert Somthing Hip
DJ FartNoise
DJ Irony
DJ JazzyJeff
DJ ShortPants
DJ GetSome
DJ I Said Shut Up
DJ Hilarity Ensues
DJ Knuckle Sammich
DJ Don’t Look Now
DJ Radio (the retarded black one)
DJ Booby Trap
DJ Trap Door
DJ BounceHouse
DJ N Word
DJ Seacrest Out
DJ Indecision
DJ Monorail

I decided on DJ and The Bear because as Lady Dehumidifier points out it highlights my esoteric knowledge of late 70’s television pop culture.

I never thought I could hate somebody the most until I pulled up behind someone with a 311 sticker AND a McCain/Palin sticker on their ride.
Damn me for not having my camera.

Congratulations. I hate you more than this guy

Hey, you’re on a scooter…
Why yes. I am. Thank you.
What’s your name?
Rene.
Hey, that’s a girl’s name.
Again - you are so very right. Have you done this before?
How old are you?
33.
(Light Turns Green)
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! (Drive Away)

Man. Life’s been so busy i haven’t even had time to make clever observations about mundane things. I feel like if I started writing it would sound like the journal of a 13 year old girl.
Dear Diary,
Last night I kissed a boy I like. it was so romantic. Outside under the moonlight. The smell of beer on our breath. I think my history teacher is totally lame. I think Mandy is totally gonna run for student council president against me. I’m so mad at her right now. It’s not like she’s ever been on student council or planned the prom like I did. Argh I just hate that Mandy Jerkface. I still think George Clooney is dreamy but that guy in the new Star Trek is too.
Thanks for listening Diary.

In other news I’m in therapy… for thinking like a 13 year old girl.

“so you think just call it Moustache Robot then”

“either way”

“moustache robot is DEFINITELY a moustache that is a robot - no question”

“yeah, it might be funnier if it’s not clear”

“well robot moustache to me is no question a robot’s moustache
oh
no
wait
you’re right
it could be A robot moustache”

“yeah, robot being the adjective describing the nature of the mustache”

I’m so glad this guy’s our president.

Friday : Samurai Davis Jr and Dim Sum’s Super Mega Happy Fun Time Improv Show

Well, we ran another fine season of Atlanta’s only improvised Japanese Game Show. Hell, I’d say THE WORLD’S only! Complete with humiliating punishments, some of which I endured being Tartar Sauce Toothpaste (brushing my teeth with tartar sauce), Sloppy Slip & Slide (an unrolled garbage bag roll covered in chocolate syrup, tartar sauce, maple syrup, clam juice, and other foul and wretched liquids), a laser tag set whose gun shocks you when your opponent shoots you, Clothespin Face (you can imagine), Jam Pits (jams and jellies rubbed in the pits), Potted Meats Socks, Eating a Raw Onion, Drinking a glass of Clam Juice, and a host of other things I am sure are equally heinous. Closing the show was bittersweet. I’m gonna miss getting Vaseline Belly at the top of the show (A samurai with vaseline on his belly rubs your face in it)

and then spending 90 minutes under stage lights with vaseline dripping off my face, getting rewarded a couple times (and avoiding the chocolate-vanilla-wasabi-anchovy milkshake in the process) only to suffer the Diet Coke-Menthos shower followed by Human Car Wash.

My Fridays will be much duller the remainder of the year.

Saturday : Todd Barry
Front row VIP seats to Todd Barry. Our secret mission…By the end of the night, he was gonna come out with us.

Some mid-show banter and well placed post show conversation later, he joined us at our favorite hang, the Euclid Avenue Yacht Club. Mission Accomplished!

Sunday : Bruce Springsteen

A board member scored some floor seats to see The Boss. Holy Fuck was he awesome. 3 hours of ass-kicking, fist-pumping, heart-stopping, booty-shaking, Rock&Roll. Opened with Badlands. Brilliant. Played a slightly upbeat Johnny 99. Used the mic stand as a stripper pole and dropped down so his body was parallel to and about an inch off the floor with nothing but one hand on the mic stand to hold him up. Also, Max Weinberg’s long haired 18-year-old son played drums in a few jams. There’s an interesting E Street Phenomenon that as they age, Bruce gets cutter and more in shape, while the band gets older and droopier. L’il Steve Van Zandt pulled out an itty bitty guitar and I was convinced Tiny Tim joined the crew.

Commence to jealousin’

I know life has almost become laughable when Pick 5’s start giving me anxiety attacks.

or