Josh Stern's Blog, page 163

Practice makes practice

As I was waiting to get inside the fuselage of the plane, I was fixated on these electric blue stretchies, Fat cow pants for cos that shouldn’t wear pants…these were no ordinary stretches, the texture was that of corrugated eggshell…a polyester pique of puke-inducing landscape of an imaginary sky painted by a meth head…Of course she sat next to me, with her soft-boiled eggs and buttermilk toast in a chinet bowl…Her carry-on steamer truck had no chance of fitting in a lavatory, let alone the overhead compartment…and her tubercular cough had me at at a perpetual ‘semi’

Today was as good as any to become a germophobe…she was coughing up bloody mary mix…I was dry heaving….she just never heard of hands covering a mouth and sexual favors were not out of the question if her husband would strangle her and dispose of the body 

I wear ribbed socks...for my pleasure

My dog is defective…..

I get home only to find that somehow Vincent has picked the bathroom lock, and made it a post-apocalyptic wasteland, a landscape strewn of shredded toilet paper and chewed up ivory snow soap packaging, and then moved on to the gorgonzola-esque insoles of my favorite suede longwing brogues…

So to cool off, I go out with him for our semi-annual walk, and he does his signature move….a dance step where he lifts his back leg to poop and starts hopping around counterclockwise while trying to bite the leash….but no such luck…he’d be in jail if his pooping was the equivalent of pulling false fire alarms….

Vincent just tires me out…completely pooped… So we come home, and I fix him a sundae (no nuts for him…allergies).  I start taking a few spoonfuls, which always pisses him off, but I keep on because this time I got lucky with the perfect mix of proportions…time to savor the moment, as he punctures my shirt with those ineffectual taupey fur poodle dog teeth

I get up to wash the day’s sins off in the shower,( and make a few more while balancing with one hand on the wall)….I actually start to feel the redemption of ‘no place like home’… I’ve finally started to uncoil.

Why is Vincent laid sprawling on the bed?…he is so remedial and defective…

So in his honor, I do that old spectacular magic trick where you pull the tablecloth and leave the place settings unmoved… except it’s my plaid duvet and Vincent goes flying…but his claim to fame is always landing on his feet after ricocheting off the walls a few times………Just kidding

I just shoo him off to a neutral corner of the plaid duvet, and lie down to read my phone’s myriad emails…I’m knee deep in emails when I absent-mindedly search for the remote without looking up.  I always leave it on the same spot on the bed where I spilled lasagna 6 months ago…and so it still feels a bit pasta-y

Did I say my dog Vincent is defective?  ….So I rummage around on the bed and I feel the remote, I grab it’s hard, smooth surface and  suddenly remember that tonight Archer is on FX…cartoon’s high octane superspy…So I start hitting the remote’s buttons…..but no buttons…that’s weird….

What Did Vincent do, chew them all off?  That damn defective dog…I doubt he’s still on warranty after 5 years of abnormal wear and tear…so I take a closer look and see the remote on the other side of the bed…damn Vincent…Stop Messing With My Stuff Dammit!!!!

A horrible thought comes to mind….so horrible that I need to hear some Kenny G to deflect the awfulness with more awfulness.  How could Vincent be so criminally insane- just for that, I’m putting nuts on his sundae…. walnuts no less….

 Why me? I’m just two mishaps short of paradise…..

I slowly, oh.. so …slowly, look down at my hand; wincing, cringing and generally in a defensive body position. ‘Hope for the best, expect a broomstick’ is what i always say…. So  I begrudgingly admire the sleek cigar-like remote cradled between my index finger and thumb in the dull ambient light of my bedroom….it’s remarkably light weight in its ergonomic perfection….something JD Power and Associates should have given an award for…but red-eyed rage consumes me and I despise my dog right now…it’s a very strong loathing….I feel the ultimate betrayal, as only I can shit the bed…it’s so unfair…but being teutonically germophobic Purell is always near

Archer was great  

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you

And, all this time, I didn't think their was another Keith Moon. WRONG! I was. You have an extreme grasp on bad girls, old rockers and vagina-lead-men-who-long-to-extend-their legacies. Right on, yeah. You read much Bukowski? Charles had a handle on t

Sorry to just see this now.  Thanks, glad you got a kick out of it ;D  Best to you