Cibo Matto Rules

October 27th, 2006

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Charlie-

You know when you feel a large piece of somewhat masticated food fall from your mouth, but a search turns up nothing, and you know, you just know that at some point later today during that meeting about Company Image your boss will do a double take, briefly pause from her meticulously prepared presentation, and ask you what the fuck is that on your shirt (in that spot you can’t see because your ever growing man-breasts and belly have almost cut the visible surface of your body in half). And you know it’s the end because she’ll recognize eventually that it’s the raspberry pie from her lunch.

But yeah, brah, Brian Eno is worth your time. Justin - I don’t know if you know him - he did a sweet remix of some of Music for Airports with I think a really Brian Eno-ish Phish song, Brian and Robert. I’ll see if I can dredge it up for you… it’s pretty damn good. One of the classics on that remix album was a song which featured (not all at once) You Enjoy Myself (Phish), Thick As A Brick (Jethro Tull), Aeroplane (Red Hot Chili Peppers), You Oughta Know (Alanis Morissette), and I feel like maybe another song or two… anyway, it was bangin’.

So the other night I’m covering for one of my co-workers at a late night colorist session. The first thing I have to mention is that I was roped in with the promise that the session would end by nine post meridian, but nooooo, we left closer to say… midnight. But don’t come rushing up to New York to console me just yet, I did rack up some Oh-Tee. The second thing I have to mention is that the producer from the agency starts the session by badgering everyone there for pot. He’s all: “Ben, I know you’re holding. Let’s smoke a bone.? And this becomes like the joke, but not really a joke type thing, for the whole night. Any phone call he receives, how does he answer? (Is that a complete, proper sentence…?) Not with the typical “hello,? but with “you got any pot??

The agency guys where cool obviously, but still very… fratish. Everything went downhill when they discovered they could make their laptops speak. The rest of the night was full of poorly inflected dirty jokes that sounded like a crappy eighties song. Things like, “[name omitted] likes to suck cock? and “[name omitted] sprays his deuce juice all over the caboose.? That second one actually has a nice ring to it, call Diddy or like Jay-Z up or some contemporary linguistic stylist. The night became even more eighties when the producer stumbles upon a video on the Internet of his old band from when he was like eighteen playing live on some Boston-local late show. Maybe you’ve heard? Five All Night Live? The host is drunk and Irish. The song is Computer Date which is a pretty ominous title considering what we now know about match.com, lava life, jDate, and pedophilia.

Have a good weekend, buddy-boy, I’ma gonna be busy with the little move. Finally a room with windows and not some kid walking through it to get to his room! Yeah, growing up!

-Ben

P.S. Today’s word-of-the-day on m-w.com is “hobbit.? Fuck that, why do I even try?

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