The Demonweasel Speaks

I’ve been doing a shit-ton of manual labor the past two days, hanging up more slatwall and refixturing (because I have a fixture fetish) and when I got home tonight I was sore all over and ended up taking a two-hour nap on the couch after Chinese food.

So now it’s 2:30 and I’m not tired at all. Did some writing , which was hard because I’ve been letting myself go (writing is a lot like riding a bike, there are certain muscles you only use for that, and if you don’t use them for a while and then pick it back up, they hurt like crazy) and now I’m just trying to kill time until I get tired. Here’s an example of things that can happen:

I was on Fark, reading the comments in an article about a model who is suing because she did a jewelry ad and she thinks it degrades her “wholesome image, and I wonder if the one girl is the girl from “John Tucker Must Die” so I do a Google image search for “O face” (which brings up some interesting results) and I see the picture of the “Gwen Stacy had Norman Osborns kids” issue from Spider-Man (at least I think that’s it, let me check the link to be sure) and it leads me here, an archived bulletin board thread from 2004 where Patton Oswalt answers (very candidly) questions about stand-up and show biz, and it’s filled with tons of good stuff (including the title of this post), and describing conversations between comedians:

“Rich Vos and Patrice O’Neal at Caroline’s on a Sunday at midnight four years ago. Patrice is onstage, and Rich is in the audience, and they’ve been insulting each other for ten minutes:

Patrice: I can’t help being fat. It’s my genes!
Rich: I didn’t know genes had the word ‘Hostess’ written on ‘em!”

and

“Another fun, failed experience was SLACKITY SLACK, which Blaine and I wrote with David Cross after FOOD FOR THOUGHT died. Now it was late 1994, and we were all disgusted with the co-opted “slacker” culture, so we wrote a YOUNG ONES-style “coffee shop ensemble” comedy (I can’t tell you how many goddamn pitch meetings we’d go into where they insited on “a bunch of people sitting around a coffee shop” in the summer of 1994) which Comedy Central had a massive, rhino-sized hard-on for. We wrote three scripts, and Comedy Central gratefully took them, sealed them in ceramic, high-impact canisters, and shot them into geosynchronous orbit around Charon, Pluto’s recently-discovered satellite.”

An hour later I’m still reading and laughing.

And still awake.

Fuck.