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Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Failures in Live-Blogging

Jay Wexler

July 12
Mmmmm, this ice cream is great. It’s true what they say: Super Scoop on Route 6 has the best ice cream on the North Shore. Wow, it’s delicious. It’s pretty hot out today, I better eat this up before it, oh jeez, dripping already. Lick, lick. Slurp. Oh no, my napkin. Yeeesh, on the keyssss, a liiitleee stickkckckccky, bleaaaa

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August 19
I’m meeting Sarah for dinner at the Italian place downtown, I wanted somewhere crowded. Don’t want her to make a scene. Uh, oh. She looks suspicious, maybe she knows what’s up. Our waiter is funny looking. What the hell is that on his lip? He’s asking me to put away my computer because the clickety-clicking is bothering the customers. Hah! Now what? Sarah is ordering the lamb, geez, always the most expensive thing on the menu, you see this is the problem, that’s what I’m telling her right now, even as I’m writing, yeah, that’s right, Sarah, you’re a freeloader, hey, what leave it alone, give it ba

My penis is two inches long, and I like fucking stuffed cats.

* * *

September 25
Man, I am psyched to see this new laser show at the Planetarium. I bet Radiohead sounds awesome with the cool lights. Alright, it’s starting, here we go. Oooh, nice. A little dark, though. Hmm. Oops. Maybe if I hold it like this. }tryyu vpp;. Ejps yjod od serdp,r/ Smf yjrtr’d Iramis@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

* * *

October 5
It’s still a beautiful day here on the Washington River, bright and sunny, and as the evening approaches, some crisp autumn air has settled in from the north. You regular readers know that I love the fall weather!! But I’ll tell you what, my friends, I have concluded that fly fishing is overrated as hell. As you know from reading for the past eight hours, I’ve been dutifully casting my flies all day long, but have I had a single bite? NOOOOO! I don’t know what the problem is. I think the guy at the fishing store sold me the wrong flies. As I mentioned nine hours ago, that guy was pretty sketchy. Or maybe it’s all these birds, with all their frickin’ non-stop chirping. Chirpedy, chirpedy, chirp. I mean, could they make any more noise? Stupid-ass birds.

* * *

November 8
Boy I sure like taking a walk through the park on a bright autumn day. Look at those funny dogs playing over there by the bench. Ha, ha, that’s cute. Whoa, hold the phone. That old guy by the fountain just collapsed. I better help him out. Luckily I took that CPR class at the YMCA last year. I’ll just clear the airway here, then what do I do? Hmm, I think I’m supposed to push a few times on the breastbone. Oops, that might have been a little hard. O.K., now count to ten and give a breath. One, two, three. Hey, this guy looks sort of like my gym teacher from junior high, Mr. Martinelli. Yeah, he definitely is. I remember this one time, he was showing us how to do twirls on the horse, you know that gymnastics thing, and he fell off and bumped his head and cried. Ha, ha. Imagine that, a gym teacher crying. Now wait, what am I doing here? Right, CPR. Oh, shit, this guy’s totally dead.

Oooh, wallet’s got money!

* * *

December 13
Oooooch, Doc. Easy does it. This prostate’s got to last me another twenty years!! Hey, that feels funny. What’s the next procedure? Oh, a urinalysis? OK, but it’s kind of hardpressing thesebuttons and peeing, oh oopsssdf, too messssssy. Deos anyone haveawashcloth?

* * *

December 26
Finally, we’re on the runway!!! We sat on the jetway for two friggin’ hours, and the baby behind me was crying the whole time. Waaah, waaah. Jesus, I mean, can’t parents learn how to control their kids or what? Anyway, the little googedy-goo is asleep now, and I’m on my way to Aruba for the week. This is going to be sweet. We’re about to take off. Here we go. Yeaaaahhh. Woo-hoo. I wonder why they say not to use hand-held electronic equipment until we reach cruising altitude? Oh, well, screw it. If they can keep me on the jetway for two hours. Whoa, that was weird. Ouch. Why are we upside down? Excuse me, stewardess? Stop grabbing my wrist, weird lady sitting next to me. Hey, why is everybody screami

Jay Wexler lives in Nashville where he paints by the numbers and cares for his pet panda Leopold. Mr. Wexler can be found on S.F.M., Eyeshot, and right here.