THIS
10. Christ, not again.
9. Maybe I shouldn't even bother finishing Infinite Jest.
8. The day after I write 15 new pages of a novel I haven't touched in over a year, and one of the only living authors I can rightly call a "favorite" does this. I'm not saying it's providence or a sign or anything. Just strange.
7. I guess refusing to subscribe to cable TV or even hook up rabbit ears doesn't render me immune to hearing bad news.
6. I don't feel funny right now and I don't feel like finishing this list.
5. Hey, David. I hope you've found peace. Seriously. And FUCK YOU.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Top 10 Reasons Why I Am Keeping My Phone Off Today, Staying Off The Internet, And Will Remain Completely Unreachable
10. You guys smell.
9. I've got lots of Diet Pepsi. Shit's not gonna drink itself. And I drink alone. Yeah, with nobody else. And when I drink alone, I prefer to drink by myself. Which is redundant in so many ways and I can't believe I just quoted that goddamn song.
8. Glen Danzig.
7. The Quiet Man has to start talking. Most of you don't know what that means. But I honestly think you will some day.
6. I'm going to be blasting a lot of loud instrumentals in my apartment. I can't hear them if I leave, and I honestly think most of you guys wouldn't like them.
5. My cell phone is low on minutes anyway.
4. The Internet is too distracting. Too much porn. I mean blogs. Yeah, blogs. Too many blogs.
3. I have decided today will be a day for writing and nothing more. No softball practice or hanging out or chores or shopping or anything else. Today I write and no one and nothing is going to disturb that.
2. I am basking in the aftermath of a glorious night with a beautiful woman who submitted to my clumsy charms. I will not pretend to know what the future holds other than to say she has foolishly agreed to be called my "significant other" and that knowing this makes my days seem brighter and more hopeful. On this blog, for the sake of both anonymity and symbolic accuracy, she will henceforth be known as Penelope - as in the patient wife of Odysseus, as in the woman whose arms I would brave every manner of island-dwelling beast and monster and wrathful god to be folded into, as in the woman whose unworthy suitors I would slaughter with a cheerful heart and absolute ruthlessness should they be stupid enough to step in my bloody path. Only two things threaten to render her blog-induced pseudonym a silly thing. First, not even the grandest war with the most certain promises of glory and bounty could tempt me from her side, and so neither her patience nor the aforementioned island-hopping trek back to her bed would be necessary. Second, to say she makes me feel like Odysseus is a horrible lie, because Odysseus is nothing but an epic hero whose bravery and cunning would thrill the hearts and minds of every tradition-bent literature professor and lover of the Western World, whereas she makes me feel like a demi-god. I want to be worthy of her. I want her to be proud of me. That's not the only reason for reason #3, but it helps. She is a large piece of the proof of something I am allowing myself to believe: that something out there, something good that can't be named and cares whether or not I feel loved, has answered my lonely scream and answered it with the only pieces of Heaven I believe I will ever know - other people. And if you don't get the Penelope reference, for Christ's sake go to wikipedia. I'm a writer, not a literature professor.
1. Got shit to do.
(P.S. Just wanted to talk about something funny and ironic in reference to the end of reason #2. I have a friend, a co-worker, who is a brilliant photographer. Some months ago I moved into a kind of "iffy" area crime-wise. There is graffiti, and I recently learned the graffiti artists are a bit smarter than I initially thought. Well, in some ways, at least. In particular, there is an artist whose tag consists of two kind of bubble faces - one laughing and one sad - and it took me some weeks before I realized the artist's tag was his own contemporary rendering of the tragedy/comedy masks of theater. Next to one of these tags - on the back wall of a veterinarian hospital in the path of my short, daily trek to work - are the words HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE. I have been so - forgive my Reznor-like self-pity - desperately, desperately lonely. So lonely that I was tempted to ask my co-worker to follow me to the building and take a picture of me standing next to the quote. But the world has been nice to me lately. Old friends, new friends, and a new lover have found their way into my life. And it's all happened in such a short space of time that it can't feel like anything but providence. I didn't ask my friend to take the picture mainly because it was embarrassing to ask for it, and equally embarrassing - should he have agreed - to model for a photo in public. But now I won't ask because, Dear Anonymous Wall Artist, YOU. ARE. WRONG.)
9. I've got lots of Diet Pepsi. Shit's not gonna drink itself. And I drink alone. Yeah, with nobody else. And when I drink alone, I prefer to drink by myself. Which is redundant in so many ways and I can't believe I just quoted that goddamn song.
8. Glen Danzig.
7. The Quiet Man has to start talking. Most of you don't know what that means. But I honestly think you will some day.
6. I'm going to be blasting a lot of loud instrumentals in my apartment. I can't hear them if I leave, and I honestly think most of you guys wouldn't like them.
5. My cell phone is low on minutes anyway.
4. The Internet is too distracting. Too much porn. I mean blogs. Yeah, blogs. Too many blogs.
3. I have decided today will be a day for writing and nothing more. No softball practice or hanging out or chores or shopping or anything else. Today I write and no one and nothing is going to disturb that.
2. I am basking in the aftermath of a glorious night with a beautiful woman who submitted to my clumsy charms. I will not pretend to know what the future holds other than to say she has foolishly agreed to be called my "significant other" and that knowing this makes my days seem brighter and more hopeful. On this blog, for the sake of both anonymity and symbolic accuracy, she will henceforth be known as Penelope - as in the patient wife of Odysseus, as in the woman whose arms I would brave every manner of island-dwelling beast and monster and wrathful god to be folded into, as in the woman whose unworthy suitors I would slaughter with a cheerful heart and absolute ruthlessness should they be stupid enough to step in my bloody path. Only two things threaten to render her blog-induced pseudonym a silly thing. First, not even the grandest war with the most certain promises of glory and bounty could tempt me from her side, and so neither her patience nor the aforementioned island-hopping trek back to her bed would be necessary. Second, to say she makes me feel like Odysseus is a horrible lie, because Odysseus is nothing but an epic hero whose bravery and cunning would thrill the hearts and minds of every tradition-bent literature professor and lover of the Western World, whereas she makes me feel like a demi-god. I want to be worthy of her. I want her to be proud of me. That's not the only reason for reason #3, but it helps. She is a large piece of the proof of something I am allowing myself to believe: that something out there, something good that can't be named and cares whether or not I feel loved, has answered my lonely scream and answered it with the only pieces of Heaven I believe I will ever know - other people. And if you don't get the Penelope reference, for Christ's sake go to wikipedia. I'm a writer, not a literature professor.
1. Got shit to do.
(P.S. Just wanted to talk about something funny and ironic in reference to the end of reason #2. I have a friend, a co-worker, who is a brilliant photographer. Some months ago I moved into a kind of "iffy" area crime-wise. There is graffiti, and I recently learned the graffiti artists are a bit smarter than I initially thought. Well, in some ways, at least. In particular, there is an artist whose tag consists of two kind of bubble faces - one laughing and one sad - and it took me some weeks before I realized the artist's tag was his own contemporary rendering of the tragedy/comedy masks of theater. Next to one of these tags - on the back wall of a veterinarian hospital in the path of my short, daily trek to work - are the words HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE. I have been so - forgive my Reznor-like self-pity - desperately, desperately lonely. So lonely that I was tempted to ask my co-worker to follow me to the building and take a picture of me standing next to the quote. But the world has been nice to me lately. Old friends, new friends, and a new lover have found their way into my life. And it's all happened in such a short space of time that it can't feel like anything but providence. I didn't ask my friend to take the picture mainly because it was embarrassing to ask for it, and equally embarrassing - should he have agreed - to model for a photo in public. But now I won't ask because, Dear Anonymous Wall Artist, YOU. ARE. WRONG.)
Friday, September 12, 2008
Top 10 Geek Tribes I Gladly Name My Enemy
10. Trekkies.
9. Dorks who dress like vampires.
8. Star Wars nuts.
7. Anyone who speaks only or primarily in geek movie/tv quotes. Sorry my fellow geeks, but remembering witty quotes someone else wrote/spoke doesn't make you witty. It's okay to be a geek while simultaneously rousing up original thoughts. It's okay. Give it a try. Yeah, yeah, I saw The Holy Grail too. Yeah, yeah, shrubbery, you're being repressed, bring out your dead, it's just a flesh wound, ha ha, you're so clever, JESUS!!!! GO HAVE SEX!
6. I have a very funny thing I say occasionally. 'Cause I'm all funny. And I came up with it myself (please see reason #7 for the importance of this). I will, when the subject of weed arises, say that I no longer smoke it because, "Smoking weed is just like watching Jeopardy. You just sit on your couch and feel stupid." Always. Always. ALWAYS some shitknuckle fuckwagon of geek responds with, "Well, I usually know the answers on Jeopardy." No. No you don't. Not unless the answer is "What is...I'm a fucking liar! And a virgin!" If you usually knew the answers you would go on the fucking show and make a bunch of fucking money so you could buy more fucking Half-Elf Magic-User miniatures. Stop interrupting my funny to stroke your skull-cock!
5. Furries. Just stop it guys. Just stop it. I'm a pretty open-minded guy, but just stop it. Do something less disturbing. Like, pee on each other or something. But just stop it with the furries. Please. Stop it. CSI doesn't need that many story ideas.
4. Comic book geeks who think their favorite super-hero can beat up the Hulk. He can't. And you know it. This isn't just a competitive thing. I'm a literary motherfucker. I appreciate character. And one of the primary things that defines the Hulk's character is that he's better than everybody. It's true. Umberto Eco even wrote about it. And Roland Barthes. And that other guy. Seriously.
3. Thor fans. We all know Marvel's never going to let the Hulk kick Thor's ass like he should. So I say we settle this in a civilized manner. I'll get my Hulk-brothers together, and you get your hammer-hippy fans together, and we'll go to a vacant lot for a knife fight.
2. Geeks who live in their mother's basement and make fun of other geeks who live in their mothers' basements because they live in their mothers' basements. First of all, why is it always the mother's basement? What happened to the Dad? Second of all, your self-loathing annoys me.
1. Mall-walkers. My suicide monkey squads are taking you motherfuckers OUT.
9. Dorks who dress like vampires.
8. Star Wars nuts.
7. Anyone who speaks only or primarily in geek movie/tv quotes. Sorry my fellow geeks, but remembering witty quotes someone else wrote/spoke doesn't make you witty. It's okay to be a geek while simultaneously rousing up original thoughts. It's okay. Give it a try. Yeah, yeah, I saw The Holy Grail too. Yeah, yeah, shrubbery, you're being repressed, bring out your dead, it's just a flesh wound, ha ha, you're so clever, JESUS!!!! GO HAVE SEX!
6. I have a very funny thing I say occasionally. 'Cause I'm all funny. And I came up with it myself (please see reason #7 for the importance of this). I will, when the subject of weed arises, say that I no longer smoke it because, "Smoking weed is just like watching Jeopardy. You just sit on your couch and feel stupid." Always. Always. ALWAYS some shitknuckle fuckwagon of geek responds with, "Well, I usually know the answers on Jeopardy." No. No you don't. Not unless the answer is "What is...I'm a fucking liar! And a virgin!" If you usually knew the answers you would go on the fucking show and make a bunch of fucking money so you could buy more fucking Half-Elf Magic-User miniatures. Stop interrupting my funny to stroke your skull-cock!
5. Furries. Just stop it guys. Just stop it. I'm a pretty open-minded guy, but just stop it. Do something less disturbing. Like, pee on each other or something. But just stop it with the furries. Please. Stop it. CSI doesn't need that many story ideas.
4. Comic book geeks who think their favorite super-hero can beat up the Hulk. He can't. And you know it. This isn't just a competitive thing. I'm a literary motherfucker. I appreciate character. And one of the primary things that defines the Hulk's character is that he's better than everybody. It's true. Umberto Eco even wrote about it. And Roland Barthes. And that other guy. Seriously.
3. Thor fans. We all know Marvel's never going to let the Hulk kick Thor's ass like he should. So I say we settle this in a civilized manner. I'll get my Hulk-brothers together, and you get your hammer-hippy fans together, and we'll go to a vacant lot for a knife fight.
2. Geeks who live in their mother's basement and make fun of other geeks who live in their mothers' basements because they live in their mothers' basements. First of all, why is it always the mother's basement? What happened to the Dad? Second of all, your self-loathing annoys me.
1. Mall-walkers. My suicide monkey squads are taking you motherfuckers OUT.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Top 10 COMPLETELY TRUE Things (no, seriously) You Probably Don't Know About Me
10. I can, from memory, recite the dictionary definition of smegma.
9. I believed in Santa until the fifth grade.
8. I was baptized Catholic when I was 12, took my first Communion, was never confirmed, and was briefly an altar boy.
7. My ex-girlfriend brought me to a sadomasochist/kink masquerade a couple of years ago. I thought having a masquerade for people who regularly dress up in costumes and give themselves funny names was more than a little redundant. During our relationship, I had come up with a name for myself to represent how I thought her and her kinky friends thought of me - "Captain Vanilla". So, I bought a white mask, white sneakers, white basketball shorts, tied a white tablecloth around my neck as a cape, painted a bright and glittery purple "V" on my shirt, and for the first and only time became the superhero Captain Vanilla. The responses came in three categories - most people thought it was funny, some people upon hearing my superhero name retorted with "we'll change that by the end of the night" (guess what, they didn't), and some looked like they wanted to punch me. Which they would've, if they weren't a bunch of wimpy trekkie pricks who regularly gathered to pretend there were other people who wanted to have sex with them. I think mainly people were just surprised that someone at the shindig had come up with an idea for a costume that didn't necessitate lots and lots of black leather (the Kinksters are wild and rebellious INDIVIDUALS...in a very regimented, uniform and fascist rule-oriented kind of way - no, no, BITTER? ME?).
6. Because of the relationship that led to reason #7, I have met more women who call themselves "Blue" than I can actually remember.
5. I once stayed home from school - back at the University of Tampa - for two days because I really, really wanted to finish Final Fantasy VII.
4. I once rented a cabin in the woods for a week to be all emo and write poetry. At one point, I smelled something and wasn't able to put my finger on what it was. I ignored it for hours. Eventually, I realized it was gas from the stove. I hadn't used the stove the entire time, but must have accidentally hit one of the knobs. I opened all the windows and doors and sat outside until the place aired out. I had been lighting cigarettes the entire time, without knowing the danger. And it was my only night there that I hadn't made a fire in the fireplace. So I sat outside and smoked and thought about that for a long time.
3. I once had my friend Susan put her hand on top of my head and shave around it, so I had a big handprint on my head. Shortly afterwards, my brother brought me with his college's theater department to Greenwich Village to see Blue Man Group. I was pulled on stage and, according to the other students, the Blue Men were having a lot of fun making fun of my hair behind my back.
2. My first crush was named Kelly. I wrote her poems and sent them to her, unsigned, for a week. She wasn't interested. We were both in Public Speaking - me in my horrible military, Christian, all-boys school, and her in her Christian, all-girls school. I took vengeance upon her the only way I could. I had already qualified for the State Finals for Oral Interpretation of Literature. She was in the same category, and my coach told me if I went up for it again before the finals and managed to place higher than her - which I knew I would because I was damn good at it and Kelly and all the girls from her school in that category only read what their coaches let them read, which was always either Robert Frost or shit about cats - I would knock her out of qualification for no good reason. So I did. It was one of the most mean-spirited, petty-minded things I've ever done. All my trophies from that time are gone. All that's left are a few people my age who may or may not remember the look on the judges' faces when I read a poem that mentioned handprints of shit left on toilets. I smashed all the trophies during the retreat mentioned in reason #4, and burned all my high school yearbooks and pictures. It's better that way.
1. I'm right-handed. I'm not ambidextrous. Regardless, I masturbate with my left.
9. I believed in Santa until the fifth grade.
8. I was baptized Catholic when I was 12, took my first Communion, was never confirmed, and was briefly an altar boy.
7. My ex-girlfriend brought me to a sadomasochist/kink masquerade a couple of years ago. I thought having a masquerade for people who regularly dress up in costumes and give themselves funny names was more than a little redundant. During our relationship, I had come up with a name for myself to represent how I thought her and her kinky friends thought of me - "Captain Vanilla". So, I bought a white mask, white sneakers, white basketball shorts, tied a white tablecloth around my neck as a cape, painted a bright and glittery purple "V" on my shirt, and for the first and only time became the superhero Captain Vanilla. The responses came in three categories - most people thought it was funny, some people upon hearing my superhero name retorted with "we'll change that by the end of the night" (guess what, they didn't), and some looked like they wanted to punch me. Which they would've, if they weren't a bunch of wimpy trekkie pricks who regularly gathered to pretend there were other people who wanted to have sex with them. I think mainly people were just surprised that someone at the shindig had come up with an idea for a costume that didn't necessitate lots and lots of black leather (the Kinksters are wild and rebellious INDIVIDUALS...in a very regimented, uniform and fascist rule-oriented kind of way - no, no, BITTER? ME?).
6. Because of the relationship that led to reason #7, I have met more women who call themselves "Blue" than I can actually remember.
5. I once stayed home from school - back at the University of Tampa - for two days because I really, really wanted to finish Final Fantasy VII.
4. I once rented a cabin in the woods for a week to be all emo and write poetry. At one point, I smelled something and wasn't able to put my finger on what it was. I ignored it for hours. Eventually, I realized it was gas from the stove. I hadn't used the stove the entire time, but must have accidentally hit one of the knobs. I opened all the windows and doors and sat outside until the place aired out. I had been lighting cigarettes the entire time, without knowing the danger. And it was my only night there that I hadn't made a fire in the fireplace. So I sat outside and smoked and thought about that for a long time.
3. I once had my friend Susan put her hand on top of my head and shave around it, so I had a big handprint on my head. Shortly afterwards, my brother brought me with his college's theater department to Greenwich Village to see Blue Man Group. I was pulled on stage and, according to the other students, the Blue Men were having a lot of fun making fun of my hair behind my back.
2. My first crush was named Kelly. I wrote her poems and sent them to her, unsigned, for a week. She wasn't interested. We were both in Public Speaking - me in my horrible military, Christian, all-boys school, and her in her Christian, all-girls school. I took vengeance upon her the only way I could. I had already qualified for the State Finals for Oral Interpretation of Literature. She was in the same category, and my coach told me if I went up for it again before the finals and managed to place higher than her - which I knew I would because I was damn good at it and Kelly and all the girls from her school in that category only read what their coaches let them read, which was always either Robert Frost or shit about cats - I would knock her out of qualification for no good reason. So I did. It was one of the most mean-spirited, petty-minded things I've ever done. All my trophies from that time are gone. All that's left are a few people my age who may or may not remember the look on the judges' faces when I read a poem that mentioned handprints of shit left on toilets. I smashed all the trophies during the retreat mentioned in reason #4, and burned all my high school yearbooks and pictures. It's better that way.
1. I'm right-handed. I'm not ambidextrous. Regardless, I masturbate with my left.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Top 10 Things I Like To Think Of Myself As VERSUS The Top 10 Things I Actually Am
10. I like to think of myself as B.A., or even Face, but I'm probably more like Murdock.
9. I like to think of myself as a dwarf, but I'm probably a hobbit.
8. I like to think of myself as Liono, but I'm probably Snarf.
7. I like to think of myself as the Hulk, but I'm probably Bruce.
6. I like to think of myself as Spike, but I'm probably Xander.
5. I like to think of myself as one of the Dinobots, but I'm probably, well, yeah. One of the Dinobots.
4. I like to think of myself as He-Man, but I'm probably Orko.
3. I like to think of myself as House, but I'm probably Wilson. Or that dork on Scrubs.
2. I like to think of myself as Batman, but I'm probably that ugly reporter from the first Burton film who was slobbering over Vicki Vale.
1. I like to think of myself as the god of hellfire, but I'm probably just an irresistible sex god. Somehow, I'll deal.
9. I like to think of myself as a dwarf, but I'm probably a hobbit.
8. I like to think of myself as Liono, but I'm probably Snarf.
7. I like to think of myself as the Hulk, but I'm probably Bruce.
6. I like to think of myself as Spike, but I'm probably Xander.
5. I like to think of myself as one of the Dinobots, but I'm probably, well, yeah. One of the Dinobots.
4. I like to think of myself as He-Man, but I'm probably Orko.
3. I like to think of myself as House, but I'm probably Wilson. Or that dork on Scrubs.
2. I like to think of myself as Batman, but I'm probably that ugly reporter from the first Burton film who was slobbering over Vicki Vale.
1. I like to think of myself as the god of hellfire, but I'm probably just an irresistible sex god. Somehow, I'll deal.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Top 10 Reasons Why Death Sucks
10. No more sex.
9. Hitler is dead. Who wants to be like Hitler?
(vegetarians)
8. It's the most relaxed you'll ever be. And you can't enjoy it, because you're fucking dead.
7. No more Diet Pepsi.
6. You won't find out whether or not (insert name of guy/girl you have a crush on) on (insert name of your favorite reality show) will beat that annoying fuck (insert name of the guy/girl on the reality show who is a bitch/asshole).
5. Risk of going all zombie. Zombies suck. (I proved it)
4. This is when everyone starts saying bad shit about you. And you're not there to prove you were out of town the week the zoo monkeys were violated. And you don't bend that way anyway. And they were askin' for it, they were FUCK. ING! asking for it! Are you the only one who noticed they never wore any clothes? JESUS!
3. If the Christians are right, Cat Stevens is totally fucked. And that's not cool. Who doesn't like Cat Stevens?
(Dog Jones, the jealous fuck)
2. No comic books.
1. You become B.A. Baracus.
B.A. Baracus was Mr. T's character on The A-Team. B.A. was afraid of no man. Even if you were a man with a huge automatic weapon, all the bullets would magically spin around him, and he would pick you up and throw you. Even though he would throw you in slow-motion, you'd be down for the count. And then Murdock and Face would take out the rest of the guys with the tank they made out of a shopping cart and a pencil sharpener.
But B.A. was afraid of one thing - flying. And The A-Team found themselves needing to fly quite a bit. So the other guys on the team would need to figure out some way to trick B.A. into ingesting an incapacitating drug at least every other episode, which was tough because, you know, B.A. was ready for it. They drugged him a lot. He had guys drugging him so much, he may as well have been in a sorority.
So, that's you. When you die. You're B.A. Baracus. You don't know where you're going, and in fact you probably don't even know you're going on a trip. You're just sitting there, smiling in spite of your usual stoic presence, because your buddy Face just bought you a milkshake. Your favorite flavor, too. Wow, Face is nicer than usual, maybe you should stop calling him a FOO'. And man that milkshake tastes great! Better than usual. In fact the world just. You know. Feels. Nicer. Than. Thud.
9. Hitler is dead. Who wants to be like Hitler?
(vegetarians)
8. It's the most relaxed you'll ever be. And you can't enjoy it, because you're fucking dead.
7. No more Diet Pepsi.
6. You won't find out whether or not (insert name of guy/girl you have a crush on) on (insert name of your favorite reality show) will beat that annoying fuck (insert name of the guy/girl on the reality show who is a bitch/asshole).
5. Risk of going all zombie. Zombies suck. (I proved it)
4. This is when everyone starts saying bad shit about you. And you're not there to prove you were out of town the week the zoo monkeys were violated. And you don't bend that way anyway. And they were askin' for it, they were FUCK. ING! asking for it! Are you the only one who noticed they never wore any clothes? JESUS!
3. If the Christians are right, Cat Stevens is totally fucked. And that's not cool. Who doesn't like Cat Stevens?
(Dog Jones, the jealous fuck)
2. No comic books.
1. You become B.A. Baracus.
B.A. Baracus was Mr. T's character on The A-Team. B.A. was afraid of no man. Even if you were a man with a huge automatic weapon, all the bullets would magically spin around him, and he would pick you up and throw you. Even though he would throw you in slow-motion, you'd be down for the count. And then Murdock and Face would take out the rest of the guys with the tank they made out of a shopping cart and a pencil sharpener.
But B.A. was afraid of one thing - flying. And The A-Team found themselves needing to fly quite a bit. So the other guys on the team would need to figure out some way to trick B.A. into ingesting an incapacitating drug at least every other episode, which was tough because, you know, B.A. was ready for it. They drugged him a lot. He had guys drugging him so much, he may as well have been in a sorority.
So, that's you. When you die. You're B.A. Baracus. You don't know where you're going, and in fact you probably don't even know you're going on a trip. You're just sitting there, smiling in spite of your usual stoic presence, because your buddy Face just bought you a milkshake. Your favorite flavor, too. Wow, Face is nicer than usual, maybe you should stop calling him a FOO'. And man that milkshake tastes great! Better than usual. In fact the world just. You know. Feels. Nicer. Than. Thud.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Top 10 Songs I Would Want Played At My Wedding Reception
10. The Price Is Right theme song
9. "Get the Fuck Out" by Skid Row
8. "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden
7. "You've Got A Ugly And Stupid Butt" by Strong Bad
6. "Everything's Not Lost" by Coldplay
5. "I Don't Want To Grow Up" by Tom Waits
4. "Stop Touching My Food" by Happy Flowers
3. "I Hate Myself and Want To Die" by Nirvana
2. "Everyone I Went To High School With Is Dead" by Mr. Bungle
1. "Bitches Ain't Shit" by Ben Folds
9. "Get the Fuck Out" by Skid Row
8. "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden
7. "You've Got A Ugly And Stupid Butt" by Strong Bad
6. "Everything's Not Lost" by Coldplay
5. "I Don't Want To Grow Up" by Tom Waits
4. "Stop Touching My Food" by Happy Flowers
3. "I Hate Myself and Want To Die" by Nirvana
2. "Everyone I Went To High School With Is Dead" by Mr. Bungle
1. "Bitches Ain't Shit" by Ben Folds
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