Rather than just go on and on about this and that that nobody in their right mind could possibly be interested in (looking back at some particularly embarrassing entries from the year 2000, as well as the concept of telling the general public that you want to die is a bit over dramatic, but either way, I don�t put my address in here, there are no ideas that could possibly last for more than an hour given the history of my brain in the past 10 years), I had an experience last night that I will remember for the rest of my life for as long as I live�Wait, �for the rest of my life� means �for as long as I live�.

This experience will be up there with other top experiences in my life such as: seeing Kiss with makeup at 7 years old, meeting Robert Plant, the 4th time I had sex (the first time, to the soundtrack of either the Thompson Twins, Howard Jones, or Duran Duran in 1985 awkward, young�subsequent attempts were equally embarrassing I presume), seeing the Rocky Mountains for the first time, meeting Marc Ribot (Where I told Marc that I was excited that he played the Zorn-composed-for-Eugene Chadbourne Book of Heads material he replied �sometimes playing guitar is like opening a window�, shook my hand and walked away), selling all of my Guns and Roses music a few weeks back (there is no reason for a man in his thirties to own anything by Guns and Roses if he already owns Aerosmith, New York Dolls and Rolling Stones records imho), and learning how to drive. This experience took place while the sun was down, it was rather cold out, and I was completely sober (as opposed to the last top experience of my life which took place on New Years Eve this year where I was definitely not sober).

Driving in the car right now has been an uncomfortable experience to say the least. Sand and salt all over the goddamned place, this morning I found a bud from who knows when on the console, there is that hubcap in the backseat that has been an albatross around my neck for weeks now. I know it�s there, the people who happen to read this now know it�s there, and it burns a hole in my head whenever I get in the car in the morning. I don�t like that dirty hubcap in the backseat, but with the roads in Massachusetts looking like Bryan Adams face right now, I won�t put it back on until the warm weather. Is there an old guy out there who takes his hubcaps off every winter because he knows better? I should know better. I like the three hubcaps on, one off though, it makes me look mysterious, or �hip�. (if I had married Jennifer Tilly like I planned back in the day, I wonder how much I would be caring about hubcaps right now)

To be in this filthy car uncomfortable ( I refuse to wear a jacket in the winter. Big bulky jacket in the car makes Mr. Seatbelt unhappy. Bib Bulky jacket makes Mr. Bulky look even more bulky, so I wear these sweatshirts until I spill enough food and beverage on them to change into something different) one needs an amazing thing to happen to them, something like the greatest thing to ever happen to them like seeing Kiss with makeup at 7 years old, meeting Robert Plant, the 4th time I had sex (the first time, to the soundtrack of either the Thompson Twins, Howard Jones, or Duran Duran in 1985 awkward, young�subsequent attempts were equally embarrassing I presume), seeing the Rocky Mountains for the first time, meeting Marc Ribot (Where I told Marc that I was excited that he played the Zorn-composed-for-Eugene Chadbourne Book of Heads material he replied �sometimes playing guitar is like opening a window�, shook my hand and walked away), selling all of my Guns and Roses music a few weeks back (there is no reason for a man in his thirties to own anything by Guns and Roses if he already owns Aerosmith, New York Dolls and Rolling Stones records imho), and learning how to drive. So I drove home last night after hearing on the radio that there was a �center lane accident right in your fucking way home so now you have to sit in this traffic on 93 North and look over at scenic�Medford� and it took me a long ass time. I listen to the radio often on the way home to see if I can a) avert a traffic jam, b) get purposely angry by listening to the right wing talk show hosts (as much as I like the romantic notion of your truly driving home with a beer between his legs blaring Highway Star in my car, it�s not true at all, I generally have the radio on listening to either this local guy Howie Carr, and then this man named Mike Savage maybe. I get so fucking pissed at them on the way home. Howie is better as he�s at least funny. That Savage guy though is just a fuckhead he basically says �all liberals are wrong because I say so, and we should bomb the shit out of that guy we made in the 80�s, I mean Saddam�, he usually comes on right around when I�m getting home. The last 10 minutes of my ride home are usually with him and fuck do I want to jump through the radio [best scene in any movie ever, Bad Lieutenant � Harvey Keitel shoots his radio after losing a bet on the baseball team that just lost on his radio] and just strangle the piss out of this guy. I think, when we inevitably bomb Iraq more, since we never really stopped bombing them anyway, and more terrorists start attacking us because of our leader, we should strap people like these talk show hosts to the sides of the buildings that they fly planes into, and empty out all of the people who opposed the war in the first place to point and say �told ya so!�. I have no idea why I listen to these men on the way home. I go through periods where I can�t listen to music in the car I guess, and as funny as it sounds I find the voices of people who I oppose rather soothing while driving), and c) avoid having to fumble with the CD case looking for music on the highway which is more dangerous than using a cell phone could ever possibly be yet it�s perfectly legal (think of all of the things that are legal to do in your car, reading a book, doing bong hits, watching a movie, watering a plant, riding a bicycle, all sorts of shit, none of which was told to us not to do in drivers ed) to flip flop between Katrina and the Waves � Live at the Village Vanguard in 1958, or Huey Lewis and the News perform the Edgar Varese songbook while traveling 80 miles an hour on 128 with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth switching lanes as far as I know. My drive to and home from work is always an adventure in mental stability, so to have something as exciting as an event to end all events last night was something else.

Before I even begin to talk about the event to end all events though, I had to make a pit stop at the shopping mall to return a DVD I bought last week (The Man with the X-Ray Eyes with Don Rickles among others). I bought it, knowing I might have had it. So I had to go into Suncoast Video to return it last night. Normally, I would never buy a fucking thing in this place, as it�s over priced, and they never have anything good in there. I had a gift certificate for �the mall� from Christmas, and I decided on that DVD, only to discover I already owned it. So last night (approximately 7 hours before �the event to end all events�) I go in there and of course there are the requisite 23-year old guys behind the counter (one with pony tail and acne, one with spiked hair and earring, both with glasses). The return policy there is consumer friendly, and I go on my way to pick something out. What a fucking disaster that was. First thing the guy does is immediately lie to me when I ask �Do you have the Dave Atelle � Insomniac DVD in stock?� 23-year old with spiked hair, earring, and glasses replies �It�s not out yet, soon though�. I think to myself �So the thing I just picked up and held in my hand at Newbury Comics across the way and put back down because I thought I could buy it with credit over here instead hasn�t been released�hmmmm� I reply, �Oh okay, I�ll have to come back in a the spring when it comes out�. You fucking spiked hair with an earring motherfucker, do you think I don�t know about shit getting released on Tuesday? Who do you think I am? I have been watching DVD�s and seeing movies for years now! You kids don�t know a fucking thing! I know the fucking thing is out, and you just lied to me. That�s it. I now had a new idea upon picking up the new box set for the critically acclaimed HBO series Six Feet Under (which stars the beautiful Lauren Ambrose). Looking around for cameras on the ceiling and walls I noticed a couple, and then noticed one of the kids was pricing videos while the other walked around the store. I could steal this thing easily I think to myself. I�ve never stolen from a store I didn�t work at in my life�well, I stole once and got caught (Newbury Comics, in the 80�s on Newbury Street future Mrs. Michael Penn, and then Til Tuesday singer Aimee Mann caught me of all people and threw me out-fuck her!). Why not, at 33 try and steal this box set that costs seventy nine fucking dollars. I realized the proximity of the store and the exit to freedom was too far, so I put the box set back. My stubborn no jacket in the winter policy also affected this decision. So after about 45 minutes in this place I finally settled on Scanners by Cronenberg and brought it up to the counter. Would you like a frequent buyer club card thingy sir? (first off, why is every fucking company and there mother offering one of these fucking cards now? and secondly, I know I have a little grey in the temples, but don�t call me sir, you�re not a �Negro� in 1955, and I�m not a blue eyed devil) How about a DVD cleaner (I don�t know about you, but I rarely take my DVD�s out to the fucking sandbox, so them getting dirty is generally not an issue), how about some shelving units? (can I go home now?). He seriously asked all of these questions, and then of course I had to fill out a form where for the first time in a while I put a fake phone number on there. I then showed him I had the bag I brought the return in with me and he said �Would you like another bag?�.

So this brings me closer to the event to end all events which took place last night. As I mentioned above this event was up there with seeing Kiss with makeup at 7 years old, meeting Robert Plant, the 4th time I had sex (the first time, to the soundtrack of either the Thompson Twins, Howard Jones, or Duran Duran in 1985 awkward, young�subsequent attempts were equally embarrassing I presume), seeing the Rocky Mountains for the first time, meeting Marc Ribot (Where I told Marc that I was excited that he played the Zorn-composed-for-Eugene Chadbourne Book of Heads material he replied �sometimes playing guitar is like opening a window�, shook my hand and walked away), selling all of my Guns and Roses music a few weeks back (there is no reason for a man in his thirties to own anything by Guns and Roses if he already owns Aerosmith, New York Dolls and Rolling Stones records imho), and learning how to drive. In retrospect it wasn�t as intense as some of these thing on this list, but it makes this list because it was an event to end all events. I went to bed at 1:57 AM last night. This marks the first time I didn�t shut the light off after 2:00 AM in months, years, decades. Fuck I�m proud of myself.

before & after