Over the next two months, I’m fixing to be very busy.  This is a warning.  Lots of stuff going on.

Also, I will be making many travels (which is far superior and much more romantic than saying "I’ll be traveling").  I’m in Philly next weekend for my friend Jimmy the Muppet’s bachelor party and will be in Boston in mid-November for another BC football game (read: drunkfest) either on 11/11 or 11/18.  I will also be going west, with my triumphant return to Seattle planned tentatively for early December – though this is very much up in the air as it involves three of my buddies and I organizing a trip (wish us luck).  And of course, I will be in LA at least once between now and Christmas, but have no idea when.  I’ll probably get a call on a Monday asking me to be out there for a Wednesday meeting, which will be fun. 

So I ask for your patience and understanding over the next two months.  That doesn’t mean I’m going to post any less – I have no idea how this will affect posting – but the angry "post more!" emails have started to trickle in and they always hurt my feelings.  Also, one dude from Bangkok emailed me saying that when I recently lost weight I also lost some brain and funniness, although he did admit that he was drunk at the time he was writing (true story).  So that softened the blow a little bit. 

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Speaking of angry emails, the recent sports posts have caused a torrent of emails.  And they were pretty much completely divided in half.  Half came from guys (and sports-interested ladies) either asking questions or refuting some of the points I made.  And of course, I responded to 90% of these emails because, well, I fucking love sports. 

But the other half…[sigh]

The other half came from ladies or foreigners who were not happy with my sports posts.  They basically went like this:

Jason,

What the hell?  Your sports posts are BORING.  Go back to being funny!  I’m bored

Sara/Christine/Molly/Heather/Tricia/Someone from Germany or Australia

Ladies (and Germans and Australians), there is a rule here that we have at jasonmulgrew.com that I apparently need to remind you about.  I won’t get too into it, for fear I lose you with all the complicated legalese, but the gist of the rule is that you can not complain about the content of the site unless i) you have donated or ii) my bird has – at the very least – been in your hand.  Otherwise, it’s not exactly right to complain about a free service, is it?

I don’t want to start saying things that we might not mean, but you know that Uncle Jason tries very hard to bring you quality entertainment almost every day, often at the risk of his employment status, his romantic prospects, and his general health.  But sometimes both Jason and Larry get a little tired and need a break.  Remember, it’s a miracle that we’ve gotten 2.5 years out of this blog, since it only has so few themes:

- I’m fat
- Women don’t like me
- I like getting messed up
- I have really, really low self-esteem 

That’s not very much to work with, is it?  Jason and Larry both like sports and sometimes they want to talk about them, especially because it’s easy.  

So in the future, I ask for a little more understanding.  I promise you that this will not turn into a sports blog.  But it’s decidedly not awesome to log on to read 20 emails at a time from women (and Germans and Australians) yelling at you to entertain them.  Unless you’re paying me or providing me with hand-relief, that doesn’t seem fair, does it? 

(And re: sports – I know that I went 0-4 in my baseball playoff predictions, even after saying that I was picking perfectly this year.  I don’t think there’s any need for me to pick for the rest of the playoffs, since I’m obviously not very good at it.  So let me just stick to my strengths, which lately have been eating lots of oatmeal and feeling lonely at night.)

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Switching gears a little bit, Wednesday’s post about what my friend Laura said to her pseudo-ex inspired a shit load of emails, and, if I’m being totally honest here, 99% of them sucked.  Not to pick on the ladies again (we’ll leave the Germans and Australians out of this one), but many girls wrote in to tell me about some "crazy" shit that she had said or did to her ex-boyfriend and nothing came close to Laura’s original comment.

Instead, most of these women wrote in something like one of the following:

- "So I learned my boyfriend was cheating on me and I said – in front of all his friends – ‘Fuck you, jerk!’  He laughed, but I knew it hurt him really bad."
- "My boyfriend and I kinda broke up but then had this big fight to end the relationship and I told him that he had a little dick!  Crazy, right?"
- "My ex started seeing another girl and I saw him out with his buddies one night.  So I ignored him.  Then I left him a voicemail saying he was bad in bed!  I know – I’m a total crazy girl."

No, sister, you are not. 

Anyway, I did got some emails that made me laugh.  The first was from Carlos in NYC:

My buddy and his girlfriend were in a couple’s fight similar to the one you wrote about.  In the middle, she pauses, looks him dead in the eye and says "Everything that makes you sad, makes me happy."  Ouch.  There’s really…i mean…who would…just ouch.

They’re getting married in April and that little nugget will find itself in the best man’s speech if I get 3 too many Kettle One and tonics.

I think that’s totally acceptable material for a best man’s speech, especially when it’s a loving statement like that.  And of course, I’m kidding.  I recently helped a buddy of mine craft his best man speech for a friend and he was seriously considering including a line about the bride’s "cans" and seem genuinely surprised when I told him that probably wasn’t a good idea.  When I have to teach you about tact, well, that’s not a good sign. 

John from Long Island had a doozy:

I’m not normally one to e-mail bloggers, but I read your shit every day, and your most recent post on ex-girlfriends and their demonic, whorish ways has inspired me, to say the least.

I dated a girl for about three years; lost my virginity to her, the whole nine yards.  Now, the relationship ended on somewhat of a sour note- I was with another girl, etc.  Standard fare for an 19 year old kid.  Well, let me tell you, that was a big fucking mistake, to say the least.  I had seen my cheating as more of a "staggering drunk, looking-for-any-moist-hole-I-could-find" kind of thing, while she saw it as more of a "personal attack, self esteem decimating, invalidating her very existence as a female" kind of thing.  Rational, I know. 

So, as these things tend to go, we ended up hooking up for most of the summer, with me thinking I had won her back with my stunning charm and guile (I was certainly still in love with her, and was absolutely positive she was with me.)  Ho ho.  So late one evening, she calls me up, seemingly a little intoxicated, and as we were talking and flirting, I was trying to plan out the best route to buy condoms and get to her house in the least amount of time.  She’s laughing and giggling, being cute and reminding me while I was still in love with her, and I tell her I am leaving in a few minutes and should be over there in ten minutes or so.  As I am saying this, I hear the door to her house open, and a male voice say something to her.  Pause.  She laughs again, with me in mid-sentence, just kind of hanging on the last word of "I’ll be overrr……". 

Thoroughly confused, although completely unaware that I am about to be absolutely eviscerated, I ask her "who the fuck is that?"  She replies with: "Oh, that’s Mark (my friend who lived four doors down from me since elementary school).  I’m going to fuck him now… I gotta go."  ::silence::  Me: "you fucking whore."  Her: (laughs) "and his penis is MUCH bigger than yours."  *click* 

Awesome right?  So I don’t know how it stacks up in real life, but it seemed like it should be able to hang with your story, and it certainly was the worst female-related moment of my life.

In a follow-up email, he added:

The worst part about the whole ordeal, and part I neglected to actually spell out (I was way too fucking fired up when I was typing it out) was that she actually made the conscious decision to call him, set up the late-night booty call, then call me, knowing that I was ready to stop over.  Fucking mind-boggling right?

Yikes.  We all know that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but that is a real stinger right there.  But John, I don’t think it’s your fault.  Just because your girl misconstrued the point or intention of your cheating doesn’t make you a bad guy - it just makes her crazy.

But Vernon from Chevy Chase, MD takes the cake:

I was having a meal with an ex of mine whom i had dated for 4 years…i broke up with her and was really pretty over her

now before i go further i should mention she NEVER let me have anal sex with her…ever

during lunch she comments she’s seeing a new guy and i’m happy for her and whatnot…she then goes on to mention "and we had anal sex last weekend…i can’t tell you how much i loved it…i never knew how good it could feel to have a dick inside me like that"

Wow.  Ok, that stings a little bit.  I don’t really know what to say about that, and Vernon end his email "…", so let’s just leave it at that. 

(Besides, I’m a little tired today and don’t feel like getting into a big discussion about anal sex.  Maybe later, and definitely tonight after a few Red Bull vodka and hours of porno, but not now.) 

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I had the following conversation with my mom this morning, which I now reproduce verbatim for your reading pleasure.

Mom: "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Aunt Monica almost came up to New York last month for some thing – I think it was near you."
Me: "What thing?"
Mom: "I don’t know…it’s got an Italian-sounding name."
Me: "The San Gennaro Festival?"
Mom: "No, no…I don’t think so.  It’s like a street fair or something."
Me: "Are you sure it’s not the San Gennaro Festival?  It’s in my neighborhood and it’s a street fair."
Mom: "No, no - it’s more Italian-sounding.  What was it…"
Me: [three seconds] "The Festival of San Gennaro?"
Mom: "Yes!  That’s it!"

I love my moms.

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Yesterday, a buddy from Philly was in NYC for a meeting, so we had lunch.  I met him on the corner of my office building, and saw him first walking across the street toward me, decked out in a nice suit, looking all professional.  As he got closer, I noticed something else: he had a giant black eye. 

Businessman/fighter.

I love my Philly friends. 

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Six Songs

"Let Me Serenade You"  Three Dog Night
Quite simply, this has been my favorite song over the past two weeks.  A great piano opening, stellar vocal performance, and a general sappy sweet theme that’s impossible to resist.  And of course, since I’m sappy sweet, I’ve been fantasizing about singing this song with my cover band, which I have not started yet but will soon, to my future girlfriend, who I know nothing about now other than she is a) hot, b) Hispanic, c) 23 and d) likes me (I don’t even think I have to write that she has great boobies, as that should be understood).  Also she’s (close to) a virgin with no baggage, including but not limited to "my daddy didn’t love me" issues; had cheating/unappreciative/abusive past boyfriend(s); was previously engaged or lived with boyfriend; or was once or is on anti-depressants.  And lastly, she does not want to get married any time soon and going into the relationship understands that should I get actually famous, an occasional slip-up in the fidelity department is really not that big of a deal, as it’s hard to resist advances when you’re drunk and in a strange city or at work on a Wednesday morning and you get a naughty IM. 

Yes, she and I will be very happy together.  Whatever her name is.  And all because of a Three Dog Night song.  Love is funny, right? 

"No One Teaches Life Anything"  Dogs Die In Hot Cars
This song makes me think – and it doesn’t even have any words!  I don’t know…maybe it’s because it has that baby crying at the end and I have several children of my own who are probably crying right now (fucked if I know for sure, though), but it gets my wheels turning.  Not in a bad way, but in a "Let’s appreciate life" type of way.  And yes, I realize that this doesn’t make much sense but it’s very hard to write something about a song with no words.  So just fucking listen to it yourselves, assholes. 

"Do Right Woman, Do Right Man"  Aretha Franklin
This may be the most incredible vocal performance I’ve ever heard.  So, so smooth.  What an amazing set of pipes Ms. Aretha has – and she doesn’t even go crazy in the song, remaining even-keeled throughout.  This song randomly came on my iPod a few days ago between some hipster-ass rock songs and it blew me away.  Forget those Lower East Side poseurs with their unwashed hair and fuzz boxes – this is music, mother fucker. 

"Love Love Love"  The Mountain Goats
It’s been awhile since I’ve recommended a Mountain Goats song, so let’s go with this one.  What is both so frustrating and so glorious about the Mountain Goats is that they’re songs as so simple (both lyrically and musically) and yet so fucking good.  How the fuck do they do that?  I write simple songs all the time, keeping my rhymes basic (like you/true, me/be, semen/dreamin’) and my music basicer, but my songs suck.   

(Actually, the lyrics of this song are rather unsimple.  But I’ve already written the stuff above, so I’m sticking with it.)

"Keep On Running"  Spencer Davis Group
Steve Winwood is underappreciated as a rock legend.  And I don’t say this in the ironic way because I love his 80’s catalogue (though I do).  The guy was in the Spencer Davis Group, Traffic, and Blind Faith (with Eric Clapton); played with Jimi Hendrix on "Electric Ladyland" (including "All Along the Watchtower" and the organ on the live cut of "Voodoo Chile"); and even played organ on Joe Cocker’s "With a Little Help From My Friends."  Then he has a half dozen hits in the 80’s, which still hold up and are listenable to today.  Great stuff.

Anyway, this song gets my fist pumping.  Good shit. 

"Us" Regina Spektor
Man, I’d like to marry Regina Spektor.  Not only is she hot (the blue eyes/dark hair combination kills me), young, and extremely fucking talented (this song makes me feel so warm and loved inside), but she’s Russian!  I took Russian partly out of my love for two things: vodka and Russian woman!  And here’s a real-live Russian(-born) woman for me, right in NYC!  What are the odds?  I’ll finally be able to practice my Russian with someone!

Боже мой, как я тебя хочу, Regina!  Сосок!
(Bozhe moi, kak ya tibya hochu, Regina!  Sosok!)
(My god, how I want you, Regina!  Nipple!)

I feel like if I just had the chance, I could charm her in no time with my knowledge of her native tongue.  And after seeing my skills, I’m sure you all agree.

[Also, it took me like ten minutes to type out that Russian.  I mean, fuck.]

[And of course, we know that regina is the Latin word for "queen," not to be confused with vagina, the Latin word for "sheath".  So if you learn anything from me, let it be that vagina means "sheath" in Latin.  It's quite a conversation starter at bars and parties.]

[Maybe I could practice my Russian by writing weekly Russian lessons on here.  Would you all like to learn incorrect Russian that you only feel comfortable using when very drunk?  Not only will you be killing time at work, but you'll slowly (and improperly) be learning one of the most difficult languages on the planet.  You're probably thinking, "Jason, are you qualified to teach a few thousand people Russian?"  Well, if one semester of Russian two years ago and a few cds and books that I've listened to/read since then doesn't make me qualified, what does?  Would you like me to go and live in Russia?  Well, I can't.  I kinda have some stuff going on here.  So we're just going to have to work with what we have, ok?]

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Today is Friday, the 13th.  It is October.  And tonight, my friends and I are going to New Jersey to see Iron Maiden. 

(No, I’m not kidding.)

Wish me luck and above all, pray for me.  This sound be…interesting. 

[Have a good weekend.]