strawberry jam

so i just found out that my friend Daintch is going to be having a baby in eight months or so! exciting, right?

a few words for the father-to-be: welcome to hell, and in your face, you dumb bastard. didn't let me talk you out of getting married, so now you're suffering the consequences. i hope you choke on that newborn baby smell. and to top it all off, i swear that last night, getting into bed, i heard Sweet Tits' uterus growl, "feeeeeed meeee!". you make me sick, Daintch. congratulations.

let's get to some updates.


Starbucks Cougar Update:

o, Starbucks Cougar! where has the magic gone between us? things aren't the same as they used to be. your apron isn't tied tightly to accentuate your modest and understated cleavage ("skeeter bites" we called them in middle school) when i come in anymore. the days where you toss me a wink as you hand back my change are a distant memory. i don't think you were even wearing makeup yesterday! have you quit on what we once shared? was the depth of feeling between us a mirage? or are you just, like, on the rag or something?


Official Parents of Hot Water Cornbread Update:

i received one of the worst 10 phone calls in the history of Southwestern Bell the other day. my mother called me here at HWC headquarters last thursday. they were leaving for a short cruise and, as always, had waited until literally the last possible minute to let me know, so as they were talking, the ship's horn was blasting in the background. (for the record, HWC's genetic sponsors absoLUTEly love cruises. they go on one about every month and a half for the last four years. or so it seems to me, anyway. but i digress.)

if there were a transcript of the phone call, it would look something like this:

Official Mother of HWC: "hi, honey! i was just calling to let you know we're leaving for a four-day cruise! should be a good weekend, since we're going to be going to Pro-WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!-zumel for two days. just wanted to let you know in case y-WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!-and we didn't answer the phone. oh! here's your dad!:

Official Father of HWC: "hey, son! i guess your mom alre-WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!-but maybe the Cowboys will have a better season next year if they can ever repl-WHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!-so that's probably the last time i ever deep-fry something in baby oil. okay! talk to you soon!"

HWC: hello?

Official Father of HWC: (indistinguishable chatter from what would have to be the ship's first mate [no homo] laying out all the cruise rules or what-the-hell-ever, followed by a click).


HWC Headquarters Update:

two things:

1. with much weeping and gnashing of teeth, we have finally tossed out the Official HWC 2008 Christmas Tree. it's a hard-fought battle every year. i'm a horrific procrastinator, and Sweet Tits loves christmas, so between her insistence that it stays, and my lack of willingness to really do anything about it, we tend to passively celebrate the birth of Jesus for an extra month every year. and just like every other year, it had to get to the point where the thing was a gd fire hazard before we took it our. i was 14% sure that it would crumble to powder when we tried to pick it up, but it somehow managed to stay mostly integrated on its way to the curb.

2. HWC should be going multimedia in the next two or three weeks, via the podcast. truth be told, HWC was originally supposed to be a podcast with myself and my friend Aaron. but things of course happen as they tend to, and it never got done, mostly because Aaron got busy touring around and i don't have the personality to carry something like that on my own. we will be drunk as shit and doing a couple of material-free recordings in a week or two, just to see how it all goes. if we like it, we'll post it. just be forewarned that it will not be any kind of finished product.


Currently on the white board behind the bar: Black Toy of Doom

i actually have quite a bit more to update, but don't have the necessary time to do it now. really eventful weekend, and i'll try to catch it all up in the next day or two. and forgive the self-indulgence, but i just re-watched the movie Adaptation the other day, and there is a scene in the following clip that has been stuck in my head. it starts about 3:15 or so. i would also like to use this video to dispute the Bitter Little Lamb's claim about one Nicholas Cage and his acting abilities. Nic and i implore you to suck it.




i'm on it.

dave

you in reverse

(no homo).

sometimes at the bar, as with any job, you have to find ways to have fun with the guys (no homo). for awhile, it was Big Dumb Chris and i taking turns burning each other with canned air. our respective ladyfriends did not care for this game, particularly. mostly because it left glowing red welts on us that lasted for 3-4 weeks. at some point, the game eventually devolved into our own version of the cold war (please see: relations, U.S.-Soviet), where the two of us would not pass closer than within 10 feet of the other, our heads on swivels.

then, all of us moved on to knocking things out of each other's hands with hard downward slaps (no homo). this was a particularly fun game with things like wallets, cigarette packs, or waffle house leftovers. anything that splats or scatters is a good target. one piece of advice - this is not a good game to play with anyone that you are currently trying to have sex with. extremely counter-productive.

our current pastime is the "no homo" game. basically, it works as follows: any time you say something that could be even vaguely construed as homoerotic, you immediately follow it with the phrase "no homo". it's a pre-emptive verbal ban on a gay joke that could be made based on the previous statement. think of it as a cootie shot for the gay joke.

a tremendously easy game once you get the hang of it. after long, you will be intentionally saying overtly homoerotic things just for the chance to insert that at the end (no homo). and it extends to other things (no homo). for example, "i need to stop by the gas station and hit the pump (no auto)". or, "this mongolian beef is delicious (no asian)".

i don't care if it sounds lame. don't judge.

let's get to some updates.


Starbucks Cougar Update:

i realize that i did not introduce the Starbucks Cougar in my first post, and this should be remedied, as she plays a significant role in my life. namely, she is a mostly attractive, 40-something starbucks barista whose name i don't know, and who does not know mine. however, one day a couple of weeks ago, she happened to ask me about what i was working on at the time, so i know that she is "into my shit" as the kids say. i am mildly smitten.

sadly, i have nothing to report on the Starbucks Cougar. i have not been to the local 'bucks in the last two days, and she was unfortunately off the previous two times i visited. presumably, she misses me greatly. i tip quite handsomely.


One-Percenters Update:

well, they got me twice in the last week. curses! last saturday, the two ipods belonging to mike and me were stolen from the dj booth (please see: misdemeanor, class b). and then last night, one of our customers felt it appropriate to smash in the window on the driver's side of my vehicle.

oh, don't worry, nothing was stolen. thank god. it would have been really difficult to replace the package of diapers in the back or the 87 food wrappers, or the 4.7 pounds of various mixed cereals jammed into the seams of the back seat. it was broken just to break something (please see: vandalism and/or mischief, criminal). second time i've had a window broken there, and i'm pleased to say that it gets easier to deal with emotionally. i wasn't really surprised when it happened or even that angry about it now.

i didn't even bother filing a police report. they would never be able to catch the criminal masterminds behind this malicious act, despite the fact that they would probably stop all current investigations to focus all their resources and manpower to bringing the window-smasher to justice. i just don't want to put the city through all the drama and media attention that tends to accumulate with such a high-profile crime situation.

old patrick swayze's character Dalton really knew what he was doing, buying that old beater when he went to work at the Double Deuce (please see: House, Road).

Currently on the white board behind the bar: Maybe partying will help!

ok. going to help some fucktards catch a buzz. as always, contact me or send me something wacky at hotwatercornbreadblog@gmail.com if you have a moment. and thank you for your comment, Big Dumb Chris. you represent 100% of my subscribed fan base as of my third posting. god bless you, sir.

i'm on it.

dave