...and everything after

Reactions to Aug. 6 Counting Crows Concert:

The venue: very nice… high seating capacity yet good visibility of stage

The opening act (Rob Thomas): fine… the forty-something year-old women seemed really into it

The band itself: adequate

The front man: God awful… Adam Duritz’ clear indifference to the performance had nearly half the crowd heading for the exits well before the end of the set

Additional notes: won approx. $170 in blackjack and found a delightful restaurant at the New London Train Station

In baseball news…

The A.L. East race is heating up as three teams all find themselves within 1 game of each other in the standings, nearly 120 games into the season. And the best news of all: none of those three teams is the Yankees! *

Health notes:

Overall physical well-being: improved

Waistline: reduced

Aerobic capacity: marginally increased

Knee pain: less problematic

Achilles pain: sporadically improved

Mental health: still erratic

* Sorry, Gay-Rod

Final note: Sarah's back! Huzzah!

Summah Donna

"God can't save you, Bill..."
-Greg W., new co-worker

Life Developments:
.
Sarah is gone
Spiders are everywhere
Current stretch of sobriety: 18 days and counting
Gut is still distressingly bloated despite recent dietary efforts
New HBO series Vice Principals: surprisingly enjoyable!
Officially one month into new career as of tomorrow
Social life leaves much to be desired
Long-forgotten passion for breakfast tacos has been rekindled
Apartment search is heading into full swing*
Savings account remains stagnant for the time being
A Counting Crows concert awaits us this weekend!

* - targeted move-in date: September 15th**
** - back-up move-in date: October 1st
Where will he end up, folks?

Let's try and remember the
words this time, Adam

Janice is Dead

Well, fuck, the timing couldn't have been worse.

Janice, seen below in this sketchy photograph (we assure you it is very real) is our fallen spider, dead either of exposure, exhaustion, or... dare I imagine... a broken heart?*...

*"Where were you, Junior??"

<---- b="" her="" s="" that="">
barely visible, but she's there


Anyway, Janice's death comes somewhat as a relief because she very well could have infiltrated the apartment and killed us all. But it also hits a deeper chord of sorrow and loss, and we hope she's in a better place now. **

** One possible interpretation of Spider Heaven:
The night hijacks the last shade of deep blue from the daylight, holding on as long as it can before the color fades to black as swelling clouds bruise a dark sky punctuated by lonely stars.

It's humid, and mosquitos and moths hover lazily over a marshy terrain free of pesticides and uninhabited by humans.

The spiders execute everything perfectly - the placement and exquisite texture of their webs, their eerie rhythm in time with the hum and whir of the fluttering life around them - and wait.

The catch comes easy and for once the kill is not accompanied by fear or frenzied compulsion to get it over with. Here there is an understanding, that everything - living, dying, or somewhere between - feeds the wheel of Life. A trickle from a vein of one being sustains another that fills the same time and space. There is no real death; only transformation. One form of energy breathed into another. And energy knows no pain, no regret, no heartache, and no end.

So yeah. Janice, we hardly knew ye and hopefully all that shit I said beforehand works out for you.

RIP Janice 2016-2016

An Introduction to the Spiders that Live Immediately Outside Our Apartment

It's no secret: Haverhill is Spider Town. Although known for many things - dirty water, seven-alarm fires, a dysfunctional stop on the commuter rail, and Han's Garden - the town is truly defined by its heavy population of spiders, many of which dwell right outside our apartment #10A.

Here they are, with profiles listed in order of ascending proximity to our sleeping quarters:

Name: Pierre
Species: Goldenrod crab spider
Location: Merrimack River dock, adjacent to parking spot 54
Danger level (0 to 10): 0
Notes: nothing to worry about; odds of it reaching the 10th floor apartment are astronomical, and it is not venomous 

Name: Bertha
Species: Tuft-legged orb weaver
Location: left-center of northwest living room window
Danger level: 4
Notes: Recently gave birth, hence her name. Though probably territorial around her offspring, she is on the outside part of the window that doesn't open and is unlikely to gain entry inside

Name: Janice
Species: Unknown

Location: right-center of northwest living room window

Danger level: 7.5

Notes: Though camera shy, Janice is very real. The problem with this one is two-fold: 1) we don’t know what kind it is, which is troubling; and 2) Janice is actually inside the screen, and odds are that one night we’ll forget about her and open up the window, then she’s in the apartment

"Ain't payin' no child support!"

Name: Junior
Species: Tuft-legged orb weaver
Location: bedroom window, outside of screen
Danger level: 5
Notes: bite carries very low toxicity but there is a definite risk of heart attack should he be discovered one night in the bed
Additional note: Did he knock up Bertha?

It would certainly be nice to live in Chinchilla Town, or Happy Bonobo Monkey Town, but we have no such luck. We'll try to sneak in a photo of Janice next time.

Thank you for your readership.

Well Now I've Heard Everything

"She may be mistaken about me ejaculating on her face because she was on morphine."
-Dr. David Newman, in response to a disturbing allegation from the ER

It's never good when things reach this fever pitch in medicine.

Maybe she was mistaken.

Maybe you should stop jacking off on people's faces after doping them.

Who knows?!?

In other news, the Red Sox are doing well, despite the ineptitude of recently acquired pitcher David Price. They paid this tall motherfucker $250 million dollars, too.

I'd say... the price... was wrong?

Go Cap's!

America?

Holy fuck.

I've had it. There are too many of you fat, sloppy-assed shit clowns who are fucking things up for the good ones, whoever or wherever they are.

A few hints, you incoherent wooly mammoths, to help make life a little more bearable for those around you:

1) STOP RUNNING RED LIGHTS
you arrogant cock suckers in your invasively enormous Chevy's and inexplicably oversized SUV's carrying zero passengers and wasting petroleum and space. Wherever you are going, it can't possibly be as important as you imagine. Next time, just leave your piece of shit domicile five minutes earlier so the punctuality of your arrival to your meaningless job is not dependent on your ability to play chicken with cars traveling in the opposite direction who have... wait for it... the GREEN LIGHT and right of way.

2) TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING HIGH BEAMS
you are not the only person on the road, you asshole. And despite your utterly oblivious mindset that omits anything and everything outside your dead-eyed psyche, your blinding high beams endanger everyone around you. Also, IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING DARK OUT. Your vision will adjust.

3) IT IS OK TO WALK UP AND DOWN ESCALATORS
you fat, disgustingly lazy piece of shit. The fact that these magical stairs are moving under your overly burdened, Reebok-clad feet does not require you to stand motionless like a creepy statue as you arrive to your destination. Is it that hard to move one leg in front of the other, or do you feel so entitled that the act of moving on your own is below you? YOU LOOK LIKE THOSE SUICIDAL FUCKS FROM "THE HAPPENING."

4) READ A FUCKING BOOK
I know, I know. The concept of taking time off from your video games, snap chats, reality TV shows, and all the other idiotic activities that should have been shaken off in your teenage years in order to digest the material of a modern day poet is frightening. Well, it's time to make a change. Our language itself is half-dead, having been forced to bow to your complete and consistent ineptitude. YOU ARE RAPING OUR VERY LANGUAGE AND LIKING IT. I HOPE IT RAPES YOU BACK.

Until next time. Heyo.

Here are some awful jokes!

Did you hear about the new homoerotic novel that took pop culture by storm?

It’s called 50 Shades of Heyyyy

Tupperware? 

More like tupperWhere Did It Go?*

Hey did you hear there’s a new biopic about Whitey Bulger’s sexual obsession with ethnic women?

Yeah, it’s called Black Ass

* ’cause it gets lost easily

(dodges a tomato)

States that have only one area code:

Montana (406)

Hawaii (808)

Alaska (907)

New Mexico (505)

North Dakota (701)

Wyoming (307)

Rhode Island (401)

South Dakota (605)

Idaho (208)

NFL Update: 

The Bengals are 6-0, suckers. All you New England Patriots fan bozos said it would never happen, and laughed at me in my Jeff Blake jersey, but who’s laughing now? (laughs hysterically, tries to remove syringe lodged in arm)… I am! I’m laughing. Just wait til February when they b*ttrape whichever sorry NFC team has to play them in Super Bowl LII.

Well the Patriots are doing OK, too.

Tune in next time for another NFL update.

Selected pub trivia team names for Bill and Sarah:

Wenis McGee

Dingus O’Reilly

Not without my Wenis

The Shitty Beatles

The Appreciative Deceased

Blood Donut

Shanghai Poon

Rip Van Wenis