Friday, June 25, 2010

Phony Band Names

One of the best things about trying to form a band is coming up with a name for your new outfit. How can you convey the message, the essence of your band in just a few characters? Sex Pistols. Minor Threat. Abba. These names tell you right up front what is about to be blasted from the speakers. It's an art, really, finding a perfect circle. I mean, match.

I've long since given up on playing music, though I love it dearly. But I still like coming up with band names. So here are some imaginary bands I've played air-drums in:

The Sweaty Bridesmaids

May Babies

The Greasy Pelican

Kung Fu Sally

Black Seagulls

Little Yarmulke

Sturm Und Drang

Vuvuzela Rhapsody

Horndog Waggle


Picture Perfect Cunt

This Is Not A Fugazi Tshirt Band

Captain Organ

Sell Me A Car, Commercial

Desktop Microphone

Coffee Shop Laptop Writer

Honey Suck It

My Phone Says A Lot About Me

Mini Skort

Sex Pistils

Iraq Band (get it?!?)

Thursday, June 17, 2010

How To: The Phone And Poop

I was recently on the phone with Kung Fu Sally, babbling away when she interjected.

"Can I call you right back?"

"Sure. Everything OK?"

"Yeah, I gotta use the potty."

I couldn't understand this. I didn't mind if she used the facilities while I was on the phone. Everybody poops, right? I do. I told her she should just do it, but she was too self-conscious. I told her if she hadn't said anything and just went ahead I never would have noticed.

"Have you ever used the can while we were talking?" She asked.

Of course I had. I had used it twice while we were in the midst of our present conversation. She was nonplussed. I didn't understand this.

A little history:

Years ago I had a roommate who shall remain nameless until my legal department clears the permits. For now, let's call him Adam.

Adam had no problem with many things about the phone. He was the only person I've ever met who would hit the bong and THEN call his parents. Astounding. And he had no problem talking away while dropping a deuce.

The One Flaw in his plan was the flushing part. He couldn't do it. His plan was to poop on the phone*, walk away, then return to dispose of the evidence after the call had wrapped up. The swirling waters were just too loud and would expose his guilt and shame to the person on the other end of the line, or so the logic went.

The problem then, was perhaps the chemically-induced short-term memory loss: He would stand up, buckle up, drop the seat and walk away, only to forget to come back later finish the deed.

And here's where I came in. Or rather, later, I would get home and go into the head to make a tinkle only to raise the seat and be clubbed over the head with Adam's Log.


And, guys, it happened a LOT. The sound of me yelling, in guttural tones would become commonplace. "AAddAAAAMMMMM!!!!" He would come running, red-faced and apologizing. I'd make him flush, trying to shame him into remembering, but it was for naught. He would still leave a Bowl Baby. Eventually, a part of me began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. I would greet a lowered seat with suspicion. I know there's a Brown Trap waiting in there.

As the adage goes, if you can't beat em, join em. I set about to improve the method.

I eventually invented THE PHONE AND POOP.

The Phone and Poop is pretty easy, actually. You just gotta relax. But you gotta sell it, dammit! You gotta be all DeNiro on the can. You have to believe you can pull it off.

Any incriminating noises will be greeted by you with ignorance. When your friend on the other end of the line asks, "What was that?", you act like you didn't hear a damn thing. You are sitting stock-still in an empty room. You don't have biology. What is indoor plumbing? Sell it. Method acting. What was that sound? You're putting a pot back in the cabinet. That's what you are doing. You are simply folding an old newspaper. You dropped a phone book on the carpet.

Whatever you do, do not admit to the deed! Admitting your actions will only cast you in a suspicious light to the other person FOREVER. And word gets around. If you own up, you could soon be known all over town as a phone pooper. It's okay to be a phone pooper, so long as you are stealthy about it. Think about it like being a secret-agent. What spy is going to walk around blabbing that he's a spy? See? Mum is the word.

Now that we have some of the basics down, let's get into The Phone and Poop 201: The logistics. Tidying up is pretty easy. You only need one hand to take care of that, so we'll skip ahead to the next part: The Hoisting the Trousers. (The Phone and Poop is yet another example of how pants are simply a hindrance and a nuisance.) Hoisting the Trousers takes some coordination. You first have to master the hold-the-phone-to-your-head-with-your-shoulder maneuver, also known as Taco Neck.

And now to make your escape. This is the most difficult part. First, the prep work: Close the lid, open the door, and while standing as far away as possible, hit the lever and BOOGIE out the door. Flee the scene.

But there's more to it than that. First, cover the microphone of your phone. On some of today's cell phones, this can be done with a single finger, if you can find the thing at all.

Secondly, and this is the essence of the Phone and Poop: You gotta get the person on the other end of the phone to be doing most of the talking. This might require some time-management on your part. You have to be thinking ahead and plant this seed in advance. The best topics for this are hot-button issues. Is the person a democrat? Tell them Glenn Beck raises some valid points that are not ridiculous at all. Republican? Ask them "So, that Obama, kicking ass, right?" If it is a woman with a small child, ask her what being pregnant was like. Pet owner? Ask them what the cutest thing their dog/cat/ferret/etc ever did. Or, go for shock value. If your partner in conversation is Catholic, offer to tell them how much money you just donated to Planned Parenthood. Tell your girlfriend you'd like a sandwich with your blow job. Tell your boyfriend that a large penis is not that important to you. This is your chance to get creative! Make the Phone and Poop your own. Make it work for YOU.

But be warned! You may get more than you bargained for with this last bit. Don't raise some issue that is going to give you more trouble than it is worth. Make sure you are able to extricate yourself from the conversation with grace and tact. Don't make enemies. Use the Phone and Poop for good, not evil.

You're welcome, America.

*meaning, poop while on the phone, not actually poop ON the phone.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

All My Friends

Below is a metaphor for all my amazing friends. That's me upside down.