Drunken Gas Station Shopping Spree

Yup, there was a storm out there, no denying it. Little rain never hurt anybody though right?
I covered my friend Rachel's shift at work yesterday.  We were fairly slow today, so I just got to fuck off, make up some drinks and hang out with my customers for a while.  After work as a reward for my fucking off, I bought myself a cosmic brownie, and a Fanta in a glass bottle.  Soda never tastes better than it does out of a glass bottle and you can take that shit to the bank.
Today I plan to:
1.) Take a poop
2.)Get some coffee
3.)Go to the bank
4.) Go hang out at a bar I don't work at
5.)Actually answer my texts and phone calls for a change
6.) I mentioned poop right?
7.)Maybe buy myself some dope Rocawear jeans and be fly for the ladies, hoooollla!!

Later douchenuggets!
Pretzel

Are Brad and Jen an item again? Details inside...

Hey there Involuntards! That by the way is what I'm calling our fans now, love your title, savor it my friends.
The Sinking Ship is open now, it's pretty fuckin' bitching, all my coworkers are the bee's knee's, and the customers are grand for the most part.  We're still in soft open mode, so give us a minute to find our footing before you swear at us and call us jerkfaces.
The Involuntarys haven't practiced in a while and I had to cancel practice for like the third time in a row due to my closing shift tonight.  Noah seems upset but it's nothing a slow jack and a ball rub won't cure.  That's our band therapy, it's way easier than that Metallica "Some Kind Of Monster" horseshit.
I'm painting my toenails  pink and watching the Blues Blackhawks game (three colors in one sentence, whooah!)  Yeah I guess I should explain that one huh?  Once upon a 40, I was shithammered drunk and decided to paint my big toes a kind of sparkly purple shade.  The next day we had a show and I played better than I ever had before, so painting my big toes has become my good luck ritual.  I am to be completely truthful rather retardedly methodical about my superstitions. For instance, I always carry a PBR bottlecap with an ace of spades on it in my left pocket.  Weird huh?  Well that's your behind the scenes look at the rhythm section for today Involuntards, I'm gonna go jerk off then walk to work for a pre-shift drink.
Hail Satan and such
-Pretzel

Little Trouble, Big China

Greetings turdnuggets!

Todays topic is halfassed self loathing.  Bear with me judge, I just woke up and I'm still a little drunk but I swear I'm going somewhere with this.  As you probably know, I live in Indianapolis Indiana (I would say I'm a proud hoosier, but I really hate that word so let's go with I like my state.)  Being in the throbbing veiny pulsating...heart of the midwest, one thing that you have to deal with every year is snow, and usually lots of it. 

This is how Google image search defines "snowpocalypse"

Snow separates the folks in this town into two camps.  The first camp I'll call the meltdown camp.  These people flip the fuck out, raid the grocery store for bread and distilled water, refuse to drive anywhere and when they finally do venture onto the roads, drive about 5 miles an hour.  In short they meltdown and overreact.  The other camp I'll dub camp macho.  These are the people who you hear say "it snows every year, why is everybody freaking out?"  They tend to be men who own large trucks with diamond plated tool boxes in the bed, but there are a few women and sedan drivers in camp macho.

Here's where today's theme kicks in,  I'm a card carrying member of camp macho.  I rip on everyone driving slowly and I point out that yeah, this is Indiana and we usually get at least one really hard snow a year so  unless you just moved here you ought to be used to driving in it. That being said every time someone else makes the same "it snows every year" observation, my first thought is "wow, you're a smug cockbag and it's gonna be poetic justice when you slide into a tree." I dislike my view on the situation, just not enough to change it, and that, sirs and madams, is halfassery.  

Here's another thing you may or may not know about me, I have big stretched out earlobes.  I know shocker right? 

And how Google image defines "big stupid ears"

Anyways a couple of days ago I broke one of my plugs whilst intoxicated, so I'm shopping for new ones online as we speak.  Cash is pretty tight in the rhythm section at the moment, so buying fucking jewelry of all things is totally a vain and petty luxury purchase, but since I'm pressing on with the shopping I am apparently both vain and petty.  Half assed self loathing folks.

On a fun side note, I'm sitting across from Damon right now wearing gym shorts with no underwear underneath and I'm fairly certain that at least one of my testicles is visible.  He hasn't noticed yet, as he's pretty deeply involved in a game of Splinter Cell, but there's still a vague chance that he'll catch an accidental passing glance, and that comrades, makes me giggle.

In band news, we have a show coming up on February 12th at the Dojo with The Blacklist Royals The Circle City Deacons, and another band whose name I forget and am too lazy to look up right now. If you're unfamiliar with them BLR are a fucking great band and are at the beginning of what I'm predicting will be a meteoric rise to stardom, and The Deacons are (see previous entry.)  So yeah, come out catch a gnarly show and maybe catch a glimpse of one of my testes!

That's all for today, carry on my wayward sons

-Pretzel