petey puke insitute for the study and treatment of ... huh? what?


“You haven’t been blogging lately” said the Punk Rock Lesbian over drinks on Friday night at The Gingerman.

“It’s not that I haven’t been writing,” I replied, “it’s just that none of it is making it to the world wide web these days.”

Which is true, I have been writing. Non-stop almost.

But sometime between my three page essay on “how I relate most to Nadine out of all the Twin Peaks characters” and yet another crybaby poem about boys that go away, I decided it was all too ridiculous to actually publish.

And I know you are all rolling your eyes and making comments like “Never stopped him before” and you are right, there is plenty of crybaby shit already in here.

I’m just not feeling it. Really.

Rest assured my life has not picked up in a blur of flash bulbs, whirlwind or romance. I am not too busy for you, my diaryland pals. I am simply just too retarded.

Here is an update for the PRL, the discodoll and any other stupid mother fucker that actually missed me.

After ignoring The 21 Year Old’s phone calls for two weeks I get this friendster message today:

To: Petey Puke
From: The 21 Year Old
Subject: listens for a heartbeat

xXomgXx are you still alive? just wanted to know, ya
know, not becuase im worried or anything ;D

So I replied with:

To: The 21 Year Old
From: Petey Puke
Subject: Re: listens for a heartbeat

I know I have been pulling a "fade" though i never
thought i would be that lame.

i guess i just feel like we want different things. and
for whatever reason i find that hard to say to you.

Lame, I know. It was the best I could do today. I’m in a “lay in bed stare at the ceiling” sort of mood. And besides, what’s the point?

Other than that I have been extremely drunk on and off for the past couple weeks.

I holed up for two days straight with Dynasty Season One on DVD giggling over scenes where Fallon is actually inhaling marijuana on camera and delicious lines like:
“It’s a shame it’s no longer a disease, I could have opened the Steven Carrington Institute for the Study and Treatment of FAGOTRY!”

Sure, the show had a boring “poor family” subplot and Linda Evans is working mere training-shoulder pads this early in the game (Hell there isn’t even Alexis yet! but the writing was at it’s best. No sign of amnesia, swimming pool catfights, or wedding day terrorist massacres here. It actually has some serious social commentary. Plus they say queer, faggot and homo like 30 times!

I swear, I knew I would love this DVD set but I just had NO IDEA that it would totally rule as much as it did.

P.S. Pamela Sue Martin is THE ONLY Fallon in my book. Emma Samms can eat my ass.

There was also a night out with DW and one of the other vendors we work with, who happens to be BABE-O-LICIOUS.

I called up Goth Chris and JJ Fidgets cause I figure he’s more their type than mine.

Goth Chris comes out to play, JJ Fidgets doesn’t. As expected, the BABE wound up hooking up with Goth Chris on the dance floor at Berlin while DW and I watched.

Later I would find out that JJ Fidgets didn’t come out because he thought I was “setting him up” and “trying to pawn someone off on him” which totally hurt my feelings because when have I ever done anything shitty like that? The guy was a babe and I just figured, one of us needs to lay him. See if I go and try to hook JJ Fidgets up with a hot guy ever again.

Also I am devastated that I forgot to watch the "Rosie ODonnell Plays a Retard" t.v. movie last night. Waaaaaa.

So, yeah. Stuff. Drunk. Gay. Shoulderpads. Nadine. Bored. Pulling a fade. Bad Poetry. Fat retards. Yeah. Whatever.