Monday, March 2, 2009

Sup.

So, because I love nothing more than selling out and conformity, I volunteered myself for Interview 2009 after like half of you did it first. I don't never read A Free Man's blog regularly, however I probably will start doing so, because after stalking him all weekend he's got sweet tunes and science, which is like, a Duplex of Cool. Plus he writes good.

Obviously I don't.

Sarala is a stranger from Blogaway, who was assigned to interview me, because she is lucky as all get out. She's also from Chicago, and she's building an excellent photo collection for her blog with some pictures of the city and around the world. But I like it best when she talks about Chicago, because she gets it here.

And tomorrow, I will present the second half of this interview, or "What Happened To Numbers Five Through Eight." I'm sure you guys are shaking in your boots at how I'll respond to her questions.


1. We both live in Chicago. It is Karma or Kismet or something. We decide to do a meet. What do you pick for us to do and why?

First, I'm going to buy a thirty pack of PBR and some Smartfood white cheese popcorn, because it's delicious. Then I'm gonna go home, sit on my couch, have some beer and fuck around on the internet for about half an hour before I remember that I was supposed do something, so I'll text you with a harmless lie about being really tired and accidentally falling asleep. You'll be all, "it's cool, no big" and then I'll see if you just want to come over to watch Dating on Demand and turn it into a drinking game.

So you'll totally agree and come over and we'll sit around and get drunk watching everyone convince us they're special and worth fucking, until people start sending me text messages about where I'm supposed to go that night, and no one can agree on the same fucking place. You're gonna say something like, "I don't care what we do, I'm up for whatever" and then I will get really, really, really annoyed at your indecision. And in the end we're just going to agree to go to the same fucking bars that we always go to, and I'm not going to care, and everyone will bitch about how they want to go somewhere else, and I'll get increasingly irritated and start doing secret shots of whiskey.

No, seriously, Sarala, we'd go to Architectural Artifacts. It's a store that specializes in selling decorations to the obscenely rich. They have a crank-operated truck-drawn carousel, a room devoted to their door-knob collection, giant industrial bronze cartridges of baby doll heads stripped from a torn-down doll factory, faux bois Argentinian bird cages, and hundreds of fireplace mantles that you can sift through like vinyl albums. You would love it there.


2. "I'm like the crazy cat lady but with commas instead of kittens," you write. That is one of the best similes I've heard in a long time. OK, you just wrote the next Great American Novel. What will it be called and what will you tell your editor when she demands that you take out half the commas?

First of all, if someone's willing to edit and publish my words, I'm not gonna worry about my artistic punctuational integrity. I'm doing what she says, man. Because I never shut up, and I need people to tell me to stop sometimes. I just keep on adding commas and "ands" and sprinkling them throughout everything. As for a title? I'm at a loss.


3. Speaking of cats: cat person or dog person? Why?

Under normal circumstances, it's dogs to the bone. But then my sister, Yellavitch, came to visit me on Saturday.

"Wait, you have to see this, it's fucking adorable," I bolted over to her and snatched my roommate's cat out of her hands.

"But, she was all cuddly," Yellavitch whispers softly, "and I don't even like cats."

"Whatever, just watch." I curl up around Kitty on my chair and scratch above her tail. "She's not doing it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Why aren't you squeaking, Kitty?"

"Oh. My. God."

"What?" I'm still scratching and smiling like a dick at the cat, trying to coax her into squeaking. "Come on, Kitty."

"Do you realize how Crazy Cat Lady you are? You're all, 'why aren't you squeaking widdew iddy biddy Kitty? Googoo blahblah googoo.'"

"No fucking way was I saying googoo blahblah whatever," I look at Kitty, and hushed, smiling, "Squeak, you little bitch."

"Nearly. I never thought...seriously, Sister. You like cats."

"I know. And seriously, you would too if you had these cats around. I mean--I know, fuck, I know, but she's just so pretty. Yes you are. You're a pretty Kitty--oh, fuck me, I suck at life," I whine, throwing the cat on the ground and pouting.

"I'm telling everyone we know about this."

"You better. I deserve it."

In the end, I'm a devout dog person. My dog lives with my parents right now, as many of you know, and I miss the crap out of him. I mean, I'm so obsessed I got a tattoo of him on my forearm from a little sketchy comic I used to draw in high school. But basically, I won't take in a dog unless I have either a yard or can work out of home, because otherwise it's just not fair to the dog. I'm staunch on this.

Dogs. And MoLinder's cats.


4. You don't use pictures on your blog. Are you camera shy? Now you have to have a portrait for the book jacket on your novel. What will you wear and what pose will you pick?

Pictures are difficult for me. I'm afraid of stalkers, due to my traffic-stopping crime scene Trojan Horses gorgeousness. So, you know. Safety purposes. With this knowledge, affixed betwixt a bio and publication information on my book jacket instead of my own magnetic, elemental effulgence, I would probably find some painfully unexceptional girl of mediocre, perhaps slightly leprechaunish appearance, get her really plotzed on whiskey and beer, shove her down some stairs, take pictures of her trying to stand and put one of those suckers on there.

Now that I think about it, I really do kind of look like a leprechaun.

...

16 comments:

derfina said...

I didn't realize what blog I was reading, and I thought a guy was being interviewed here. The whole time I was reading it I was like "Hey, this guy sounds like he would get along with Rassles like beer and, well, BEER if I could finger out a way to hook them up" I was all, "Aw, man...this is gonna be so cool. I'm going to send his blog address to her, and they're going to hook up, and eventually they'll end up meeting in real life, and get married. Wow...It's gonna be great. Then they'll have kids...and I'll...have to buy damn presents on their birthdays cuz I hooked up their parents...Aw, screw it." Imagine my relief when I looked up and realized I was reading YOUR blog. I was all ready to hook you up with YOU.

wolf said...

It's really okay to like cats, you know.

I was more a dog person until I moved away from home, and, like you, I didn't want a dog until I had a yard, so I had cats, and I became a cat person.

Then I got a yard and got dogs again, and now I have both, and they both rule. They're just different.

nursemyra said...

I've always thought of you as tall. Taller than a leprechaun anyway

gullybogan said...

I've read some Great American Novels, and they weren't all that great.

You should write the Great Congolese Novel instead. Way less competition, for a start. And much less baggage.

Mia Watts said...

Only recently have I been suffering from RCS (Rassle Curiosity Syndrome) might you illuminate what books you write?

*snort*
WV: Codszze
Now this is Lent and I could be thinking fish, but I'm not.

MoLinder said...

I have the best cats in the world. Seriously. And I'm not just saying that because they're mine. Anyone who's met them can vouch for their awesomeness.

Betsey Booms said...

Sell out.

The cat ass scratching noise is my favorite. There's no shame in it.

Red said...

I don't drink beer at all. But when I drink whiskey (usually St. Pat's day and maybe one other time during the year), there's nothing secret about it.

Love Bites said...

Precisely who would I have to blow to get an e-mail from Rassles? pillars_of_color@yahoo.com

I know this is completely irrelevant, but anyway. I need you to e-mail me if you have a sec.

Gypsy said...

When I was a kid my mom had a friend whose cat was hit by a car. As a result, Kitty's vocal chords were mangled. Ever after she would make the most adorable little squeaking sounds.

Not that I'm advocating cat mangling or anything.

prayingtodarwin said...

I have been randomly giggling about Derfina's comment all day.

Good interview, now get to the second part already.

(My verification word is "cochia". Sounds like a vaguely Mediterranean term for female genitalia.)

pistols at dawn said...

I feel like my universe was changed while reading that first answer. Possibly because I realized why the store's always out of delicious Smartfood white cheddar, or possibly something far deeper I don't really feel comfortable admitting to the internet world.

It was magical, but not the lame kind of magic that intimates your hygiene's so terrible weird old dudes can find quarters behind your filthy-ass ears - the good kind. Like Loggins and Perry.

sarala said...

Either meet sounds fine to me. I've been to architectural artifacts. It is a cool place. I even smuggled a camera in once and posted some pictures. I wanted to get some Roman columns for my back yard but they were waaay to pricey.
Great answers.
If you tried those moves on my cat she'd bite you. She's vicious.
I love Chicago too even though I'm not a native. But winters truly suck! Especially around March 3.

Le Meems said...

ooohgogogooo
widdie ittie bittie

You and your sister sound like me and my sister.

and I'm totally stealing yellavitch. Thats funny.

Rassles said...

Derf: Fuck you for getting my hopes up.

Wolf: I guess liking cats is socially acceptable, but that doesn't make it any less lame.

Nurse: I'm all sorts of not that tall.

Gully: And then there can be monkeys. Not enough monkeys wandering around here, but in the Congo? Monkeys aplenty.

Mia: Technically? None. I wrote a play in high school, and I was an opinions columnist for the college newspaper. Other than that? I have no voice.

MoL: Yeah you do.

Boomer: I know, dammit. On both accounts.

Red: Whenever people find out about whiskey, they get mad at me, and then I get all these lectures about "why would punish yourself you know how you get I'm not holding your hair when you baff."

LB: Oh, yeah, I was on top of that shit like three days ago. What what.

Gypsy: If cat mangling is anything like cat herding, I'm thinking MoLinder's not going to appreciate it.

Ginny: I know, right, I keep reading it thinking, "Damn, bitch, why you gotta be wastin' my flava on me?" She should start scouting around.

(Here that, Derf? Keep your eyes peeled.)

Pistols: Loggins/Perry enchantments are not to be taken lightly. Magic in its truest form. But then again, I'm not surprised. Yep. I'm a world shaker.

Sarala: I love that you've been there, because it's AMAZING? Did you get to meet Stewart the owner? He's amazing. Gave us free t-shirts and offered me a framed picture of Spencer Tracy that no one would buy. Kick ass.

Le Meems: Careful, I'm protective of my Yellavitch. She may be six years younger, but I wanna be just like her when I grow up.

Bluestreak said...

Rassles, this one cracked me the hell up. You interacting with animals is almost as good as descriptions of your interactions with your sisters. Hilarious.

Oh, and I love me some Free Man. He rules.