May 1 - Groomble Grumble

It's a new month! It's a new asshole!
I don't know what I'm saying.

Today I got up at 7am, when really I should have just kept sleeping.
But I really needed to download six Van Halen albums, plus the first two with Sammy Hagar.
I didn't lose sleep. Sleep just lost to Van Halen.

I met Thea at her apartment in the afternoon.
We recorded a bonus track for the Nurse Novels single.
It's called "A Mouthful Of Sores Ain't No Fun" and was originally recorded by Willips Brighton. Unlike Willips, we did have fun, despite having to relocate to the bathroom on a count of sawing trees.
It might be the first time I've recorded drums while sitting on a toilet. Just like Bonham on "When The Levee Breaks", man. That's how he got that fuckin' sound! Mama Cass was so blown away by that drum sound she choked on a hot dog in Jim Morrison's tub. And then Jimi Hendrix gave Keith Relf a handjob with his teeth because he blew his nose into a handkerchief soaked in acid, man. And that's back when acid was goood. Nothing is as good as it was in the 60's and specific parts of the 70's. Nor will it ever be. And then the fat guy from Canned Heat, man. And The Munsters. It was like Passover and Black History Month and The Stanley Cup all in one!

It was time to groom the facial hair. I needed a moustache comb and some small scissors.
Osco had nothing. I searched for 15 minutes. I drove to Target. On the way to Target I realized I could have just ridden my bike. I don't even think to ride my bike anymore. This is sad fat news.
Target did not have a little men's grooming kit. I spent about 25 minutes looking in the same three aisles. How come I couldn't find this seemingly simple item? I went to Walgreens. It was looking grim. Doesn't every third male in Chicago have a moustache? Where on the earth do they get their fucking bullshit? I was beginning to think that having a moustache was an exclusive, restricted club, and that some connected asshole would have to approve me before telling me the secret of how to acquire a tiny comb.
But then a door opened. There, in the women's make up section (??), was the very last moustache grooming kit. I grabbed the fucking thing and split.

At home, I tamed the ugly caterpillar into a style similar to what I had intended. To celebrate, I stayed in, rewatched old Freaks and Geeks episodes, drank Manischewitz and ate leftover Easter chocolate.

Verdict: Win

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