There we were. Gail and me. Eye to eye. Toe to toe. Penis to vagina belly (she’s only 5′ 6″). Who would crack first? Would she turn and run? Would she prematurely reach for her rape whistle? Would she rush towards me and embrace me. Could she cry into my shoulder and say, “Evan. You found me. I love you.”? The answer, of course, is none of the above. After all my hours roaming the streets of New York City this week I have exactly ZERO Gail Simmons sightings about which to boast. If I’d known ahead of time that I wouldn’t see Gail on my trip east, I might have just nixed the trip and stayed in Los Angeles. Fucking whore. Who does she think she is, playing with my heart like this? Doesn’t she know that I’m more than just a witty blog and a large cock? Doesn’t she know that I have feelings, too? Like the tingling sensation in my penis when I think about rubbing it between her boobs? Have you ever heard of phantom limb? I feel like I’ve got phantom Gail Simmons breasts!
In the end, the closest I came to Gail Simmons was when I jerked off to this special Top Chef: Just Deserts Halloween video and some of it got on my laptop monitor. Oh well! Better luck next time.
To everybody on the East Coast, in the New York/New Jersey/Pennsylvania areas that I promised I would hang out with and never followed through, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible person. You can stop sending me texts and Facebook messages informing me of this. I know…I suck. Maybe if you did your homework, hooked me up with a friend who runs a cool company and would pay me to work around here, I’d have more time to spend with you. But until that day, you’re going to have to live with irregular visits and my usual insane schedule.
The past two days have been a bit of a comedown, I suppose. Some family time and recovery from a week of very, very hard partying and extensive travel. When one has requests from dozens of friends to hang out, the most common meeting place becomes a bar or restaurant. I ate a lot. I drank more than a lot. I deserved a day or two of rest before my return trip to the West Coast.
I ate my first-ever Smashburger yesterday. They just opened a location in Florham Park about a mile from where my mother lives. It was as good as advertised. Amazing flavors from the combination of meat, toppings and bun. There isn’t currently a Smashburger in LA — although they have locations in San Diego and Sacramento — but I’m hoping they open one soon. I think it could give In-N-Out and Five Guys a run for their money. I’d compare the overall meal to Five Guys more than I would In-N-Out, and would, if faced with such a decision, choose Smashburger over In-N-Out. As for Five Guys…I’d have to do a side-by-side comparison in order to decide.
Today I went to FedEx to ship a box of records out to Los Angeles. Most of it is what I got for myself and Mark at the record fair, but there are also some doubles of crap I don’t need to keep in Jersey anymore. So if you need a so-so copy of Talk Talk’s The Colour Of Spring, Killdozer’s Little Baby Buntin’ or Pere Ubu’s Dub Housing…let me know. Perhaps I’ll put together some new contests in the next few weeks if you kids crave vinyl.
Other than that, it’s been quiet. Ordered in a pizza with mom last night. I have to load up on those amazing east coast carb-infused foods before I return to the land of shitty bread. Made a steak and salad with mom again tonight. Will have Hornet Montana here in a few minutes to send me off. We’ll try not to drink too much. Ken and KT flew back last night, so if I’m going to get drunk on the plane tomorrow I’m going to have to do it on my own. It’ll be a chore, for sure, but God dammit I think I’m up to the task.
And to you, Gail Simmons, who inspired nearly two weeks of blog entries: What gives? All I want is to hang out for a few minutes. We could talk about food, or sports, or music. We have so many shared hobbies. We could talk about blackjack. Listen, I know you’re going to be in Vegas next Friday. Your Twitter says so. Why not stop over in LA and say hello. I promise I won’t bite. I might bite. I’d rather lick and suck, but would you settle for a bite? On your tits, Gail. I want to bite your tits. I want to cut them off and hang them on my wall. Is that so bad, Gail? I mean, really. Would it be the worst thing in the world? Just…let me love you, Gail Simmons. Let’s put an end to this silly worldwide scavenger hunt for you. Please don’t make me endure this torture any longer. Okay. I’m done. I’m done now. See you Twitter, Gail.
PS – Top Chef: Just Desserts kind of sucks. Sorry!
Swans – Take Advantage
