Frustrated, Frustrated, Feeling So Castrated…

It seems, over the past few weeks, that many of my pals are feeling incredibly frustrated. Whether it be with their living situations, gigs or projects, they are feeling blocked. Trapped. As frustrated as Newt Gingrich with an all-weekend freebie pass to a cathouse in Nevada that he can’t use right about now.

I don’t know if this is the ides of March’s fault (ugh, March, you’re gone, but you always tend to be the fuckup of the year); the year of the Dragon, or the fact that it is 2012, and we are all going to die in a fiery hellball of cumshots from the heavens heaved by an angry and vengeful evangelical God by EOY. But it sucks.

To brighten your end of week, here I present, people who have had a more frustrating week than you:

1. Axl Rose. Man, can’t this guy get a break? I mean, can’t a likely bipolar meglomaniac date a shill of a 20-something in Lana Del Rey, who hasn’t heard the rumors about his alleged supermodel-beating tendencies? And can’t he just accept an invite into the Rock ’n’ Roll Retirement Home in Cleveland? No, Axl cannot. Most rockers abandon their youthful, angry ways with age, but not Axl. Hold on to that hate, Axl. Hold on.

2. Now that he’s all but secured the Republican nom, Mitt Romney has more problems with women than a coked-up Ike Turner. Good luck with all that as your party keeps on keeping on with its We Hate Women Campaign 2012.

"Uh, what's the Lilly Ledbetter Act again?"

3. Rick Santorum’s wife, Karen, is now extremely frustrated as her eunuch of a husband will be pouting around their home in his sweater vests, glued to Fox News, talking incessantly about what might have been.

4. Ugh! Maintenance. I remember, back in the day (the ’90s) when a little trim with a scissors every now and then was all it took to get action ready. Today, ladies, not only must you pluck, wax and wane, but you must also make sure that your ladybits are not an offensive color. Truly, this is another banner Worst Week yet for foreign vaginas. It is only a matter of time until “Twat Wars: Tallahassee” becomes a new series on TLC. Take a look at this, courtesy of Jezebel who broke this stateside, as far as I know:

5. Jobs! Do you have one? Does it suck?

6. Dave Grohl is also having one hell of a pesky week. That scamp Courtney Love is now accusing him of acting inappropriately toward her daughter. Honestly, Courtney, between the whole catty remarks, Nirvana catalog fights and other nonsense, can’t you just let it go and leave poor Dave alone? You rival only Axl Rose in holding onto petty resentments from the ’90s. On second thought, how’s your vagina holding up? I bet it could use some bleaching.

7. This, once again, is the worst week ever for Hootie and the Blowfish as they found out, yet once again, that they continue to be completely irrelevant as Lollapalooza announced its summer lineup of Black Keys, Black Sabbath and Jack White.

Hootie, now appearing at your local Cracker Barrel.

8. If you live anywhere around North Korea, this is a pretty shitty week for you, too. Supreme Leader—don’t you just love it when little insecure men go all aggro and give themselves names? Isn’t it cute?—son of that last asshole will prove that he is every much the asshole that his father was and shoot off a missile. Shooting your missile off to demonstrate your masculinity is so Cuba Missile Crisis, circa 1962. Come on, it’s 2012, Kim Jong-un, lighten up and bleach your vagina!

Mmm…who else is having a pretty bad week? I think this about sums it up. Now, let’s check in on those who are universally blessed, and who always have awesome weeks no matter what:

Anthony Bourdain, James Franco, Suri Cruise, George Clooney, Mark Zuckerberg, Jon even though being overly handsome can be tiring Hamm, and anyone who attended the NYC Pulp shows from what I hear, and Jarvis Cocker. Of course, anyone with any sense would like to be Jarvis Cocker for a day.

If only Jarvis were God...Or is he? Mmmm....

As for next week, I hear the moon is to join forces with Pluto in Capricorn, which is really going to fuck up your finances. Good luck with that!

Is it Possible to be Too Nice? (Aka Vegans Suck)

Last night I attended a holiday party. Now this shindig wasn’t fancy, everyone was supposed to contribute something, which is no big deal. The economy’s still in the shitter, and there hasn’t been a decent crab puff since 2006, so expectations are not that high.

So I show up with my bottle of wine (food and drink were assigned by alphabet), and I was STARVING. This party started at 6 p.m., so there really wasn’t proper time to get dinner before, hence I was relying on this to feed my face for the evening. Or at least until I could leave.

Lest I sit my bottle of wine down and survey the offerings: And dear readers, let me tell you, I have never seen the likes of this before… Practically everything on the table—and I mean everything—was labeled. And labeled “Vegan: Beans, carrots, celery, some MSG-free sauce” or “Vegan: No dairy, eggs, or sugar! Enjoy!” I frantically searched the deli-bought salads, the trays of apps, the home-baked platters “Mac and Cheese—No Cheese. Vegan Friendly!” for anything that looked remotely appetizing.

Smear this on your crackers. De-lish!

Nothing. But someone deigned to bring a plate of brie and crackers and, man, I dug into that like there was no tomorrow. But woman cannot live on brie and crackers alone.

When did this happen? When did being fucking Vegan rule the Earth? What’s next? We all move to Oregon and start a farm collective/tattoo artist academy? I mean, vegetarians I get, but this spread was an affront to eaters everywhere. I’ve been to parties with plenty of folks flashing their V cards before, but certainly nothing is labeled like that—and it certainly doesn’t rule the table. These asshats need to be tied down and forced to watch an Anthony Bourdain marathon.


Look, people, here are the rules of the party potluck. There must be at least three or four serious foodies in attendance who will praise and celebrate a delicious meat-n-cheese sampler. Slider sandwiches—turkey, mini-hamburgers, pulled pork—of any kind are always winners.

Also, enough with the labeling. We aren’t 5 years old. Let’s have some dignity here. Make a Vegan section or Veggie section, but I’ve never been to a party before where shit is labeled to the nth degree. That’s the fun of the potluck—stick it in your mouth and see what it is! It also spurs on conversation around the table among awkward strangers—“ Do you know if this has meat in it?” Etc.

That said, enjoy your holiday parties. Just don’t label your shit like an idiot. And for God’s sake, factor in that there will be some Non-Vegans at your party, whether you like it or not.

I drink my own urine.