Becky and I went to see one of her clients play a gig. She’s the artist representation maven, so her job is to help people get recognition. Some of her clients are very good. Some not so much. Being a professional, however, she does excellent work for all of them.

The one we went to see this particular night was a “not so much”.

He’s hired an incredible band, and the music really isn’t terrible, but there’s no snap to it whatsoever, and his vocals are atrocious. To add to this, his stage presence is basically that of a 13 year old girl. No shit. Giggles and all. He’s a good lookin fella, and he’s definitely got the right people behind his project (i.e. Becky), but that whole not-being-able-to-sing thing is holding him back a bit perhaps in addition to acting like a girl scout.

Another thing about this guy is he’s widely known to be gay, but he maintains not only that he’s hetero, but has a hot girlfriend to boot. I can’t understand it. He must be miserable.

He walked in with the hot girlfriend, and I stared at her. She was very hot. He pretended not to know who Becky was. Then he noticed her after she gave a little wave. He said “Oh, hi!”. Still, I stared at the girlfriend. They walked off. I stared a bit more.

“He always pretends to not know me like that,” Becky said.

“Cool of him”

Anyway, Becky made me swear not to look at her during the show for fear of busting out laughing in front of her client. I promised, but I had no idea what I was promising. Once it started, I discovered he had this little head shake plus schoolgirl giggle maneuver he would do sometimes that really made me want to crack up. I poked her in the arm. I knew she saw it too because her lips were pressed together tightly to force back the grins. I poked her a bit more to get her to look at me, and she became frantic, swatting at me and trying not to laugh. Then we really had to suck it up because the hot girlfriend came over and STOOD VERY CLOSE TO ME.

Oh my.

I decided I better not try to pick her up since she’s the purported girlfriend of Becky’s client and I wouldn’t want to make Becky’s life any stranger than it already is, living with us, but she stood VERY close to me and kept glancing up at me. I turned my back to her. She went away.

Whew.

They stopped playing and we collected his merchandise. Someone had swiped a CD.

“That’s the first of his CDs willingly taken by anyone.” Becky said.

Ouch.

I’d like everyone to weigh in on their personal choice for favorite condom. I have tried many kinds, and read up on them a lot, but as near as I can tell, they all have that “fucking a steel belted radial” quality to them. Still, they are a pretty good idea. Which ones should I use?

Thanks in advance,
Your pal Jim Hodgson
and his unit.

Oh by the way, I just want to let you guys know something a good friend of mine told me. No one wearing white pants is on the up and up.

Keep that in mind, people.

I can’t remember much about the first part of the dream, except that I can jump very far, and whenevfer I get upset I run and jump away and it makes me feel better. Anyway, after that, I’m out at a bar and there are lots of girls there and they are all hugging me. I am a little bit drunk. I am hugging them back. They all know me, and they are all wearing blue jeans and pink shirts. I am ringed around in a bunch of girls, and I see my dad standing there, so I shout, “Dad! Come dance with me in a sea of girls!”. Now, that’s a bit odd, because my dad’s gay, but he’s not one to turn down an invitation to dance like that. Dad and I and all the girls dance over to the dance floor together as a big mob and start dancing. Out of the corner of my eye I see dad crashing to the floor as though he had tried to stage dive. He’s bonked himself and has a smallish cut on his face, but he’ll be okay. I’m like, what the fuck Dad? I also wonder what he stage dove off of be cause the place has no stage, but just then I notice a friend of mine who looks like a guy I went to highschool with. He’s also been hurt in the stage diving incident. There’s blood everywhere, and he’s banging his head on the floor, as though there were a pain in his head so bad he just wanted it to end even if it meant knocking himself out, or worse. He’s screaming. I am trying to get to him and he keeps banging his head harder and harder. Now he’s actually standing up and crashing his head to the hard wood floor. That’s where the dream ends. I woke up. I think it means that although my life is all good times and partying with people I love, like my Dad, I’m going to have to watch my friends do destructive things to themselves and I won’t be able to help much. As many of my close friends who have addictive personalities, I don’t doubt it. And I sure as fuck don’t look forward to it.

By the way, thanks to all you kind people who commented on my previous query about ball shaving. I have decided after great consideration that I will not, due to the liklihood that I will slice up my nutbag like a veal cutlet. If I were seeing someone who wanted my nuts shaven, I would do it, probably.