Things to do in Denver when you're dead...

...or in a nearly deserted bar on Easter Sunday, when the rest of the world is eating Peeps and chocolate bunnies, and you're stuck working in a bar with two customers who won't even let you watch the Rock of Love Finale because on the Speed channel cars are chasing each other around a track for hours and that's obviously a way better show than the one where Brett Michaels FINALLY gets his Real, One True Rock of Love...

Bogus...lame.

Another customer came in and he wasn't really into the Speed channel either, so we formed an imaginary band called "Dark Crystal Soul" instead. We're a goth speed metal band from Norway. We have long, pale blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. We have heavy German accents. Our lead singer's name is Envy, only it's spelled NV because that's cooler. My name is Wrath. It's spelled Wrath. We're very angry and absolutely no one understands our pain. Unfortunately, we broke up after about 5 minutes due to creative differences.

I guess there's only that one thing because that pretty much sums up my Easter Sunday.

I would have written sooner but it's been the most super stressful week, ever and at the end of it I was lying in the bottom of the shower, naked and curled up in the fetal position with a bottle of Jack Daniels, crying my fool head off for hours...except I really can't stand whiskey so it was actually iced tea in a Jack Daniels bottle...

...ok, a mason jar...and it's super uncomfortable and kind of cold when you're in the fetal position on the bottom of your shower so I stood up after a couple of minutes and just took a shower and also I quit crying after a minute and just started singing along to the Abba songs that I had playing in the background but you know...same thing.

Also, my cat and I are on the outs and he's currently looking for a new super best friend...that he can live with...forever and ever. He's a nice guy, but I can't handle the pot smoking and the constant partying and how he introduces himself to me every 5 minutes because his short term memory is shot and also, he's really arrogant because he's a celebricat and all he does is hang out with famous people and then come home and brag about it.

Also, if you want him, you should come get him now because the economy is in the dumpster and there's a cat shortage.

Also, did I mention he's famous? (And no, my cat isn't imaginary. Cats aren't like babies..you can't just make them up whenever you feel like it.) I've included some pictures:




Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt hanging out at a party with Paris Hilton.





Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt and Lady Gaga leaving the airport




Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt and the girls from "The Hills." (He's totally on Lauren's side, in case you were wondering.)



Chicken "The Donald" Jolie-Pitt, Madonna and Britney Spears at the Mtv Music Awards

Probably so many people will want him that I'll have to do a reality show so that I can be sure that everyone's intentions are true...so, you know, better get your name in there quick before you miss out.


P.S. Sometimes when your week sucks and you invent imaginary goth speed bands and you're trying to get it together for the sake of your blog, you might get distracted for hours by Muppets Mash-Ups.(Seriously...go to youtube and do a search for "metal muppets"...it's AMAZING. Master of Muppets? Don't Fear the Beaker? Awesome.) I don't know how any of that ties together, but here:

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New Year's Resolutions

HA! That title is kinda sorta a joke...actually, no...it really is a joke. I'd mess up a resolution probably about 2 minutes after I made it. My only real goal this year anyway is to get on the Oprah Winfrey show and cry on her couch. I'd make that a resolution but ultimately, it's not my decision...it's pretty much out of my hands. YOU HEAR THAT, OPRAH??? Only YOU can help me achieve my greatest dream.

And no Oprah, I can't actually think of a good reason for you to have me on the show...I just really feel the need to be there. Real bad.

Actually...what would be super great...If Oprah had Britney Spears AND me on her show at the same time. Like, maybe we'd both end up crying and we'd hug each other for comfort and Oprah would turn to the camera with a little tear in her eye and do that "we'll be right back" thing and then the cameras would pan out just as Oprah Winfrey and Britney Spears and I all had a group hug 'cause we were all sad and stuff and comforting each other.

Man, I got so happy I almost peed my pants thinking about that one...

Also, I'm aware that so far this is a really random and scattered and pretty much pointless blog post but it was either going to be my Oprah and Britney dream or an open letter to David Caruso and I'm so pissed at David Caruso right now that I can barely see straight, much less write a blog post that even resembled something decent. (Don't play dumb, David Caruso...you know what you did...CSI: Miami? The episode where you drive the car with the bomb in it to the beach? Come ON! I expect so much better from you...for real. I have to continue with the rest of this blog post but don't think this is over...not for one minute, buddy.)

Oh yeah! I had an art show and I took some really bad pictures...fortunately, other people also took pictures and they turned out ok:












I used to paint really linear, serious guys...now I paint little grey lumpy guys with names like Linus and Augustus and Stan. They have a story but I can't tell you what it is because it's going in a book that's probably going to make me something like a gazillion dollars. I can't really take the risk of anybody snagging my gazillion dollar book idea because I've already spent about half that money already...so, you know...you're going to have to wait to hear the story.

Also, meet James:



I know, right? It's like the greatest love story ever photographed...

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