Happy New Years, Again.

Eugene is a phenomenal town where there you can still smell a faint air of fun and individuality in the world. We were at a market in town and the kid at the register had fashioned a cardboard box into a helmet - complete with the gladiator-style nose piece - and had written on the side "Employee of the Moment". Too bad that most of the world - both corporate and the antithesis - has sucked so much of the humor out of life.   Happy New Year, yet again. This was the first New Years since I started comedy that I didn't work. We ended up driving to Eugene, Oregon last minute to hang out with some of Renee's old friends and get tanked in someones garage, barely remembering hollering like a rookie at midnight. New Years shows suck but at least you're getting good coin. If not for the money, there is no need to be in public that night. Fortunately, we weren't in public. We were drinking at a house party with regular people who didn't give a fuck about comedy and it was almost like being a real person, if not a real person who hates fucking New Years.

Aside from New Years, I hate getting Christmas presents. I suck at buying them and therefore I don't. So getting one makes me feel like that much more of an asshole. My wife got me Fante. I spent 7 hours shopping and got her a refrigerator magnet and a blow-gun for myself before swearing off gifts altogether. I met with the AVN folks yesterday for a rehearsal of the awards show. My co-host and favorite porn star Chloe is a fucking riot and probably the only porn actress that wouldn't turn into a burning Hindenburg tragedy on stage. She was bitching about her back being fucked up. She said she threw it out fucking the guy from Great White and then aggravated it on New Years Eve banging the bass player from Danzig in a toilet. I told her maybe she ought to try fucking a musician from this decade. Evidently you could be a guy from NightRanger and still be getting high-end stink.