I Didn’t Tell You to Drink that Whiskey

Question: If I’m in a public bathroom and you try the knob and the door is locked, why oh why, do you then KNOCK?

No, really. I’m asking.

Because, clearly, someone is in here. Since we’re in public, I’m assuming that I don’t know you, so you’re probably not welcome to join me. Hell, even if I know you,you’re probably not welcome to join me. It’s all well and good to put your face in my crotch, but a woman sitting on a toilet to pee is just not a good look. As far as I know, I don’t need any help with my urination.

Are you suggesting that I pee faster? I so, fuck you.

Surely this is not the case, because you JUST checked the knob. You just got here. You can’ t have been waiting that long, unless the half second between when you twisted the knob and the knock really WAS the longest span of time that you’re willing to wait to take a pee. If that’s the case, I’m going to go ahead and assume that you never went to a party in college.

“There’s a line outside the bathroom? Fuck this PARTY! I’m going to go home and watch Matlock!”

Frankly stranger, if that’s your attitude, I wouldn’t invite you to a party anyway.

Maybe you’re having some kind of digestive issue. With all due respect, like I said, I don’t know you. Thus, the goings-on of your intestines aren’t really any of my concern. Maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey last night and maybe you should have stayed home instead of pooping in a public bathroom like the homeless. Or a dude in a touring band.

Maybe you’re pregnant and really need to pee.
Maybe you have to puke. Maybe you have to puke because you’re pregnant. At any rate, none of those is my problem and maybe you should keep your legs closed, you whore.

I’m just in here trying to pee.

So quick knocking. You’re harshing my buzz.

Friday LOL: Mr. B.A.N.G.

I wasn’t sure quite how to start this post. After all, how does one describe the entity that IS Mr. Bang? I think this would be one of those times when plain English is best.

There’s a guy in Texas who has made a career out of dressing up like Marilyn Manson.

I’m not saying that he’s a celebrity impersonator who’s sitting around counting piles of money and saying “I can’t believe I’m getting away with this, but it beats having a real job, so WTF.” I’m saying that there’s a guy who’s trying to fashion himself into a celebrity solely by dressing up as some other celebrity. And selling pasties with his own Mansonesque logo on them. And asking people to donate money. I wonder if the “donate” button on his MySpace page accepts checks. Reality checks.

For the sake of brevity, I’ll leave you to your own devices to peruse the photos and “fan art” (aka “stuff my 6 year old nephew drew”) on his MySpace page. I’ll let you be your own tour guide for the interview with Combichrist. Instead, I’ll give you some highlights from The “Sitting in a Bathtub Behind a Warehouse” Video.

1. The girl sitting behind him has the saddest groupie gig ever.

2. “I ended up in Texas for the industry that I’m in now.” Which is, apparently, living with his mom and doing “photo shoots” with people from Model Mayhem.

3. Taking big sips of “booze,” aka “water.”

4. When the interviewer gets distracted and starts talking to Groupie Girl, Mr. Bang gets all pissy and starts yelling about macaroni and cheese.

5. He talks about bringing back striped tights, ripped fishnets shirts, and lunchboxes. You know, cause nobody does that anymore. I haven’t seen a fishnet shirt at goth night in AGES.

6. The camera pans away, then back and Mr. Bang’s head is in Groupie Girl’s crotch. “I’d say I feel lucky, but I’m not really the average Joe either.” He’s got a point. I’m pretty sure he’s got a Pulitzer in that bathtub.

7. Mr. Bang tells a story about how his parents never approved of anything that he did, then goes on to mention that he used to hang tampons from the ceiling and cover them with ketchup.

Happy viewing, kids. Happy viewing.