Throwaway Prose

Oh, so many things, so many things.

Where shall I even begin?

Let’s turn a spotlight on the many events that have taken place during the long span of time since we last held hands and jumped excitedly in the air together shall we?

Pixies

My unrivalled ability to plan a concert going trip during the full moon, when my kids will be at their wildest, is legendary. Unfortunately for Chuck, while I was having my face melted off by the Pixies in Asbury Park, NJ, he was rocking in a corner crying because of the outrageous exploits of our offspring. But because I’ve not yet finished talking about myself and it really is ALL about me we’ll push that nugget off to the sidelines for discussion at a later date.
The Pale Ale goes down and the Anger comes up and long ago somebody left with my cup.

 
Yes, go ahead and make a superior mental note to yourself that this borrows generously from Cake’s Going the Distance.

Do you feel smug now?

Good.

Anyway,after the Pixies concert I suffered an entire evening of post traumatic stress disorder from the angry bartender at a local Asbury Park haunt who kept screaming for me to “show her my stamp” in order to procure a pale ale. Surly is not a character trait I appreciate in my daily life and I like it even less when I’m at the mercy of some power hungry mean and small woman with shredded jeans who stands defiantly between me and  my drink. I suffered the indignity of using my arthritic fingers to dig my ancient drivers license out of my wallet to prove I was “of age” and then bit my tongue when a sniveling hipster branded me with black ink across the back of my left hand only to be forced to DISPLAY this mark of mature wisdom to quench my thirst.
Thank goodness these wounds to my psyche healed so well.

Superior driving trumps poor road conditions


Somehow after this whirlwind night of loud music and revelry I awoke and was catapulted directly into the most dismal and terrifying return trip home as I was forced to brave Snowtober, or whatever the fuck you people were calling it. I called it sure-fire way to die in a whiteout nightmare.

All Hallows eve for the misguided

Halloween fell soon afterward with my older son becoming apathetic enough to don a Cookie Monster hat and a blue parka daring to call it a costume. The twelve-year-old helped set my jaw in permanent “disapprove” position when she skipped down the lane dressed as Nicki Minaj. Thankfully, the baby went as Ironman and I now have a years supply of Snickers and Twix to ward off the strangling hands of depression.

A succession of near misses.

 
Hey did you hear?

An asteroid the size of an aircraft carrier is making its way straight for the earth and in a strange turn of events I spent three hours of my day watching Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia on pay per view.

 Nevermind that this hasn’t even been released in theatres yet so I kept wondering if I’d traveled unknowingly to the future to see Kirsten Dunst look really depressed at the longest wedding ever committed to film. I defy you to sit through the nuptials and reception without taking a bathroom break.
I’ve been quoted as saying that any movie that Charlotte Gainsbourg is in is worth watching for her alone and this one was no exception. That woman is poetry in motion pictures.

And so there you have it. A disjointed rambling onslaught about a slice of time that I’ve no idea how it got away from me….
And now it’s here, preserved in words so that when it all leaves my memory banks and is washed down the river for good you can refer to this and know exactly what I did with these 31 days.

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12 Comments

Filed under asbury park new jersey, asteroids, did i travel to the future to see a movie on demand, halloween sucked up all my time, I would add pictures but then the title wouldn't make sense, lars von trier took my whole afternoon, reasons not to stay in touch, snow in october is madness, the pixies, twix and snickers can hold depression at bay, we've been apart for far too long

12 responses to “Throwaway Prose

  1. Tom G.

    Did I know about the asteroid? Hah! I don’t subscribe to space weather reports for nothin’ Missy! And you can bet your sweet bippie that Black Francis is a fellow subscriber.

    I have absolutely no idea, why I’m talking like a hilljack with fewer teeth than a pumpkin. But I can tell you that I had to google Melancholia, and Nikci Minaj. So you’re still my main source for pop culture references.

    Also, are you sure the lady bartender wasn’t asking you to show your “tramp stamp” instead? Maybe she was trying to hit on you?

    • Did you let the hipster draw on a tramp stamp, Duf? he was wearing tube socks, wasn’t he…

      • dufmanno

        Any tube sock wearing individual is okay in my book.
        Also WordPress is pulling a bartender move and refusing to let me post replies to comments where I want them.
        What the fuck!?

    • dufmanno

      No, she kept thrusting her fist in the air to indicate that the number of drinks I was trying to walk away with exceeded the “stamps” she had seen with her own eyes. After a few hours the ink all ran together and ended up looking an awful lot like the Black Flag bars so I guess it was okay.

  2. Wow, sounds like a traumatic event. About the Pixies, I have often wondered the audience can see them onstage, aren’t they tiny? ha ha ha (super lame joke, it’s late in London and I’m all out of witty shit to say)

    Like Tom, I have to go google Nicki Minaj…

    • Dufmanno

      You will come away with a furrowed brow and more questions than you started with( about Minaj) the Pixies could be a mere two inches tall and they would still drill their songs directly into your soul.

  3. arghhhh pedantic writer mode: I forgot the word HOW
    as in HOW the audience…
    meh

  4. You looked young to a hipster. Well played.

    And I hate Kristen Dunst.

    • Dufmanno

      I’m beginning to wonder if it all wasn’t a cruel hipster joke concocted to make fun of the elderly in that smarmy passive aggressive way they have. I’m so old I appear young. Just like 70s hair dirty jeans and too tight polyester shirts are so out of style that
      They
      Must be in style. Why are my words jumping off the sentence down to the next line?

  5. One of the boys (I do not say boys in an off the cuff way here, he really was a boy) at work the other day, was explaining to me that thanks to “the cougar curve” females in the 25 to 35 age group now hate all women in the 35 to 45 age group because we are the more desirable women to guys their age.

    BWAHAHAHA…….seriously??!!! at what point did what guys want suddenly become the key point?

    • Dufmanno

      The key point for me would be suitors with poor eyesight. I’ve been telling Chuck that he should Put off getting those glasses he needs. I look better out of focus.

  6. I love this post so much that I can’t even get it together to comment appropriately.

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