Greg's Blurty

It's Friday, You Bastards
A lot of people say that I can't complain. I don't know why they say that. Because I never complain about anything. Ever. Even though no one has more reason and right to complain than me. I'm entirely convinced that God put me here to make you feel better about your life because mine sucks so much in every conceivable area.

OK, maybe not EVERY area. Financially, For example, I guess I'm OK. I don't want to brag or anything but this is payday and I am now less than one million dollars away from achieving my goal of becoming a millionaire. And while it would be crass to give you exact numbers, I will tell you that I'm less than $999,762 away now, because a lot of you women out there are impressed by meaningless things like money.

For you ladies out there who are impressed by vast amounts of money but are a little on the math challenged side, that means that I have more than $238 and if you play your cards right, I could spend a good chunk of it on you. Of course, if you do choose to come here and spend the night with me, I won't have to spend a cent because this is Friday and we're just about to start a big party with all the food and booze you could want.

And sure, that could cause you to say that my already rosy financial situation is even rosier and that means I have even less reason to complain about anything but you would be completely wrong. Didn't you listen to Ian on Sunday night? Money isn't everything! OK, I know some of you are still confused, so let me break it down for you: Why does my life have to be so dull, ordinary and boring?????

Take tonight, for example. When you get here, what are we going to talk about before we retire to the master suite for the good part? I sure hope you had an exciting week, because what do I have? Besides selling greeting cards, I hung out with Bill Clinton a little this week and had a couple of drinks with a Republican senator on his yacht and spent 37 years in the past with Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss on Wednesday afternoon and by the way, she's still yelling at me for leaving one of her suitcases in 1985, as if it was my fault.

Or I could tell you what I did last night but that just proved the old saying, "You've seen 100 naked Rockettes, you've seen them all naked," true. Yawn. And what am I doing next Thursday? Seeing the other 100 Rockettes naked. Double yawn. And what am I left with?

Tonight's party and that's about it. First though, I guess I should tell you that I didn't even need Miss Bunni (She learned everything she knows from Miss Cleo), my Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Mystical Affairs and Head Astrologer to part the veil between the living and the dead to invite the Guest Of Honor this week.

That's because Richard Wright showed up on Tuesday. With Jerry Reed and Frank Zappa. He wanted to record a new album while dying is fresh in his mind and I wish I could say that he chose to do it here because I have the best, most well equipped home recording studio on either side of Heaven but no.

I can't say that because...well, I'll just tell you what Jerry said, "Son, there's way better studios here and there. But we can't do it there because the acoustics are different. I know it doesn't bother a lot of folks but I just can't deal with it. 'Sides that, how do they call it Heaven anyway? I went fishing and stayed out on that lake all day AND DIDN'T GET ONE SINGLE BITE! Heaven, my foot!"

"So I figured I might as well cut another album and Richard had a real good idea, so here we are. And the reason we are here and not at one of the better home studios is discrimination! You wouldn't believe how they discriminate against dead people. They call us ghosts and haunts and spirits and even demons. And that wouldn't be all that bad but what with all that screamin' and carrying on, how's a body supposed to get any work done? Some of them even burn sage!"

So that's why they're here. We are dead friendly. And Suzette retools her recipes whenever there is a ghost in the house so there is no sage in them. That's important because, for reasons no one has been able to figure out, 97% of all dead people develop allergies to sage that are worse than peanut allergies. Even though they are in perfect health otherwise.

So Richard and Jerry have been here all week recording a new album and Frank has been producing it. And it's not just a new album but it's (As far as I know) also a whole new genre: Acid Country. And some people seem to like it but I don't know...I tend to agree with Chet Atkins.

He stopped by the other day and they played a demo for him and he just shook his head and said, "When you fellas wanna play, and I don't care what it is, rock, country, jazz, classical, gospel or soul...anything but this God awful Acid Country, give me a call but I can't do a thing with this."

Some, though, like Jimi Hendrix, Hank Williams and Syd Barrett seem to really dig it. They seemed a little drunk, though, so you might want to take their opinions with a grain of salt (Hold the sage or they'll swell up like balloons).

And that's all I've got. Just another completely typical, ordinary, boring week. Nothing but the usual things and typical guests and visitors. Couple that with my total lack of imagination and you see why it's imperative that you had a fun and interesting week or we'll have nothing worth talking about.

So sit back ad have one of the drinks that Fifi invented for tonight:

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Pink Floyd Cello

Ingredients:

* 1/2 oz Limoncello
* 1 oz Vodka
* Cranberry juice

Mixing instructions:

Pour into a tall glass over ice. Fill with cranberry juice. Garnish with wedge of lemon.

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And tell me all about your day and week. And when you get bored doing that, let me know, because I really want to get to the good part.

Current Mood: depressed
Current Music: Coast To Coast AM----Thursday September 18th, 2008