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All Funked Up
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8/11/2004
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If you missed Funkfest, you missed one hell of a party. You also missed having me sign your breast, but you are not alone. Many people declined my breast signing offers, and it's not something you can sneak up and do without them noticing, either. As usual, I was ready to go home by about 11 pm, but not because the party sucked. More because I suck. I even took a nap that day because I knew I'd be up late. It didn't work.
A guy approached me at the tee-shirt/poster booth and said in a southern accent that made me a bit uncomfortable, "You that one Pork Salami guy from the blog thang?"
"err..yes."
"You need to grow some balls, man."
"Nice to meet you, too..."
"Seriously, man. Grow some." (this sentence made me smile for some reason- like I could just make a strained face and you'd hear two popping sounds as they sprouted.)
"What makes you say that?" I asked him innocently.
"I put a comment up there and you erased it. That's fuckin' weak, man."
"What was the comment?"
"Somethin' about you bein' a idiot..."
At this point, I ponder for a moment, wondering if I should congratulate this obvious mental skyscraper on his ability to use a 'puter, or start confusing him. I chose the latter, as I traditionally do.
"What's your name?"
"Matt"
"Do you know how many pages there are on the Internet, Melissa?"
Matt stared at me for a second, wondering if I just called him Melissa "...hell if I know, but that ain't the point."
"Whoa, Fury, you don't know what point I am making. There are about 3 billion pages on the internet, give or take a few million. If you take away the ones you can't access, can't post content on, and so on, I'd say you have about 2 billion pages that you can post any kind of insult you want to about me, but you can't do it on my page."
"...you can't...bahhzjuk. Onna' that gawna just fukkin' be a MAN."
Having been put squarely in my place by the "be a man" comment, I responded, "Run along before you hurt yourself, Lisa." and gave him my last free drink ticket. Say something mean and do something nice- another useful technique. He wasn't sure if we were friends or not, but I was. We're best pals forever. Look for your friendship bracelet in the mail, Matt.
That was the only non-happy person I saw that night. The energy of the crowd was excellent, and everybody grew more friendly with each passing beer- er...hour. There were live breakdancers and everything. Live break-dancers are much more entertaining than dead ones. That rule goes double for hookers, in case you were wondering.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 9:17 AM |
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9 Comments:
Maybe you just have amazing Super Powers that one can only expect from someone who names himself "Pork Tornado" and one of those Super Powers is the ability to function before 8 am.
Anywho, as a final note, I think you are hilarious and I want to thank you for the laughs, often at your expense.
Dusty - When's the last time a gal told you that your head needs to be between her legs?
(I'm hoping my comment gets erased. Then I can come up to you at a random Atlanta event and confront you. I heard a rumor I can get a free drink that way. If not, I'll just resort to flashing as per usual.
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