They are stars. Tim Delaughter is a charisma factory. The show was amazing.

Bad- The 2nd warm-up musician was the roller-skating, guitar playing street performer from Venice Beach. At first I though, “Fitting”. Then I thought, “Please trip, fall and break 6 strings.”

Also Bad- The indie-idiot contingent of Los Angeles. There was some creatively facial haired moron who kept bragging about being: a writer, and on mushrooms. He would not shut up. I wanted to punch him but did not for 2 reasons:

1.I am trying to set a good example for my Israeli and Palestinian readers. Nonviolence is the way.
2.I have taken mushrooms in my early 20’s and I think that being punched out on a hallucinogenic drug could have negatively life-altering effects.

Buy Polyphonic Spree Records Here:
Good Records

My site meter has brought to my attention that my site is visited daily by someone at rpa.com . For those who don’t know RPA are the initials of a very large advertising firm, Rubin Postaer and Associates. Two things about this:

1.) Email me, my site is world famous and I feel targets the coveted inner-city youth demographic, primarily.
2.) The person who visits my site is on the west coast (thanks sitemeter). The west coast branch of RPA is directly across the street from my office. I actually park underneath their building every morning. ($120/month for a parking space? A tad ridiculous.) Say hi someday if you are in that building. I am a 6′3″ ultra-attractive black man; i’m hard to miss.

I am looking over your client list to see if there are any that may work on my site. Not Blue Cross, I presently have issues with them. Honda, no. I may want to eventually make fun of that box wagon thing they made.

Who am I kidding? I will accept offers from anyone except Kentucky Fried Chicken. I had a bad case of salmonella once, and I don’t forgive or forget quite that easily. Though I did lose a lot of weight… So, perhaps I would consider them on my “Jason King Diet Page”.

I will go further into my info later. But consider this; nearly 56 (okay, exactly 56) people visit my site everyday. I will consider any reasonable 5-figure offer you toss at me. I will do full-frontal nudity. I will wear anything that is made by a foreign designer with an elegant name, and promote said designer.

Companies I would Most Like To Align Myself With:

Astroglide
Black & Decker
So New Media (buy a book while you are there)
Frederic Fekkai
Shrimpers Union of America
The Patch
Phillip Morris
Crest
Kraft
Trenton Medical Supplies

Ok, so I have already done half of the work. I expect a proposal and a flash movie equivalent to Chiat-Day’s Energizer Bunny or Tmobiles Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas in my inbox ASAP (that’s business-speak for “as soon as possible”, FYI [ugh, that is "for your information"])

You get with your people and I will get with me.

Why do I feel like I am being blackmailed by my good friend Heather?

Crest Night Effects

1.Prepare
Brush Teeth (no problem)
Open Packet (slight problem with tearing the package, but took care of that)
Dry Teeth (wait. Dry my teeth? Aren’t teeth wet by nature? I saw nothing in my bathroom that I really wanted to scrub into my mouth. I decided to use my blow dryer. Felt odd, but worked quite well.
2. Apply
Apply a thin layer of LiquidStrip (Thin being the operative word here. I woke up this morning with various portions of my lips glued to my teeth)
Keep mouth open for 60 seconds (There is nothing to make you feel more stupid. I was walking around my room for a minute holding my lips open off of my teeth, all the while drooling down my own chest. Vanity can be so ugly sometimes.)

The Patch

The Patch I know quite well. I have worn it more than I have worn several pairs of shoes that I own. The instructions are boring and pretty self-explanatory. [Peel. Stick. Don'tt smoke. The third command being the harder of the three.] So what I will post here are excerpts from NicoDerms “Suggestions For Quitting” Handbook:

Ask your family, friends and co-workers to support you in your efforts to stop smoking.
All of my friends are cynical and sarcastic, next suggestion.

Throw away all your cigarettes, matches, lighters, ashtrays, etc.
My ice-encrusted Zippo? No. Next.

Write down what you will do with all of the money you save.
Easy one. Hotel Parisi in La Jolla.

Know your high-risk situations and plan ahead how you will deal with them.
High risk? Waking up, driving, working, talking on the phone, coffee, water, mid-workout, pre-sex, mid-sex, post-sex. Next.

Try to avoid coffee, alcohol and other beverages that you associate with smoking.
Next.

Keep a journal about your experience quitting. Jot down your motivations.
Journals are pretty gay, as are diaries. Blogs are cool though. So you, dear reader, over the next few weeks will be hearing all about my non-smoking adventures. Church, anyone? Where do people not smoke?

Laughter helps. Read or watch something funny.
Are you serious? Who is writing this shit? I’m bitter and edgy and not really in the mood to watch The Jerk right now.

These are followed by the happy, optimistic outlook, pappy crap you would expect.

Non-Smoker
Day One:

I over-smoked on purpose yesterday, but still woke this morning forgetting that I was to quit today. I rummaged around for a cigarette. Nowhere to be found. Oh yeah. Fuck.
Drove to work. “What are you looking at, asshole?” “Turn your blinker off, you stupid bitch.” Oh yeah, this is going to be fun. Get to work and architect all day. Need to smoke. I rub the Patch on my back a few times, silently hoping a smoking genie will emerge. It doesn’t happen. I am delusional from nicotine withdrawals. I wonder if you can smoke the patch?

Motivation for the Day:
Smokers get uglier than non-smokers at a younger age.

My nephew just had a monumental birthday; he has been here for a decade now. Guess who forgot about this? Yep, idiot-boy/fantastic-internet-celebrity. I forgot my nephews tenth birthday. So, a very special belated Happy Birthday to Danny!
I love you so much, and will take you shopping when I am there and you can get whatever you want (almost).

P.S. Stop reading my website, there are bad words like “Jason” on here. Remember that?
Go somewhere more suitable, like here.

First things first, if you want to smoke pot, then smoke pot. I won’t judge you. I haven’t got high in probably five years, because I hate it and it turns me into a serious idiot. I can’t believe that anyone would really like this stuff.

The chronology of my night:

10:15-11:30- Six Pack of Heineken. A couple of dice games with my roommates who are smoking pot.

11:35- THOUGHT. “I haven’t gotten high in a long time. Maybe I would enjoy it.”

11:36- THOUGHT. “No, I wouldn’t enjoy it. I remember the way that the stuff makes me feel.”

11:40- Take one hit off of the pipe.

11:45- THOUGHT. “Are my hands numb?”

11:47- I have now lost all ability to roll and then understand what the numbers mean on the dice.

11:49- Time to go to sleep.

11:50- THOUGHT. “My room is really messy. What kind of 30 year old lets his room get like this?”

11:53- Lie Down.

11:55- Get Up.

11:58- Lie Down.

12:01am- THOUGHT. “Just go to sleep. It will be gone when you wake up. Just stop thinking the things you are thinking and turn off.”

12:04am- All moisture is gone from my mouth.

12:06am- I really need water. But I am too paranoid that my ankles won’t support the weight of my body to walk to the refrigerator. I wish that Pink Dot would deliver to your bed.

12:10am- I remember there is bottled water on my nightstand. I drink a lot. It doesn’t help.

12:15-1:00am- THOUGHT. “Everyone makes fun of me. They are laughing at me. I have no true friends.”

1:00-1:30am- Cell phone ringing over and over. I t must be bad news. There isn’t enough money in the world to make me answer the little silver noisy box.

1:39am- Gunshot? That was definitely a gunshot that I just heard.

1:45am- Is that my kidney I feel? I am almost positive that my kidney is swelling up and is going to burst. I then realize I know nothing about anatomy or biology so this swelling could be any organ aside from the fun one that is supposed to swell sometimes.

1:48am- THOUGHT. “I should probably go to the hospital. Something isn’t right. Some unknown internal organ is really swelling up.”

2:00am Until Sleep- My heart is no longer a voluntary organ. I have to consciously think to make it do its job. The remainder of my evening was spent with this thought in my head, “Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat…”

The Wojner Sisters are the Jefferson Brothers of phone voices.

In the new nickname department, I will now refer to Heather as “Heath Row”. This is not pronounced like London Heathrow Airport. It rhymes with Suge Knight’s record label, “Death Row”.

Has anyone else heard the news that Sylvester Stallone is writing/producing/directing a film about the Biggie and Pac murders? A weird idea indeed. But it intrigues the Executive Producer inside of me.

I am Picturing:

Dom Deluise as Biggie Smalls
Burt Reynolds as Tupac
Rosie O’donnell as Suge Knight
And Center-Square Jim J. Bullock as Puffy

Soundtrack by Enya.

I hope my foreskin/ant problem doesn’t turn into this.

A Trip to the Doctor

Me: how can I have high cholesterol? I’m only 29.
Him: maybe you shouldn’t smoke deep-fried cigarettes.
Me: yeah, you are probably right.

Me: so what about this weird ache in my left testicle?
Him: I can’t tell you what that is, nor can any of the dozens of specialists to whom I am going to refer you.
Me: interesting. How much am I paying for this?
Him: $___________
Me: that seems like a lot.
Him: it is.

Him: the good news is that your prostate feels wealthy. [this is a typo. it is supposed to read "healthy". wealthy is so much fucking funnier, I can't change it]
Me: yeah, I know. I checked it once this morning and three times last night.
Him: what?
Me: never mind.

Coming Next Month: A Trip to the Dentist