Pavement Biography Book Anecdotes:

When Malkmus, David Berman, and Bob Nastanovich all lived together in New Jersey (at which time Berman and Malkmus were night watchmen at the Whitney and monkeyboy Bob was a bus driver), they managed to come up on Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore's phone number (Sonic Youth) and used to, as the Silver Jews (pre-Pavement), call their number and just rock out on their answering machine. They would drink beer and jam on their answering machine for like 10 minutes at a time, once or twice a week. That is totally sweet.

Some Gary Young anecdotes (I wish they'd kept that guy, Steve West was soft): During a NY stint during the Slanted and Enchanted tour, Young marched into the Sony Records office--wasted--and demanded that he be given one million dollars on the spot, and that in exchange, he would sign the band to a Sony contract. The execs left him in a room to "discuss" the proposal, and when they came back, he was passed out. They put him--still passed out--in a cab and sent him to New Jersey, where he would end up being 4 hours late for a sound check for a show that night. Gary often greeted fans in line for their shows. Few believed that he was in the band until they actually went on. He was known to give away small presents, such as cinnamon toast or cabbage. Um.

Megan got me the Pavement book, so if you didn’t like those spiels, blame her.

This week's that guy must go to Robert Davi's Fratelli brother in crime, Joey Pants. In addition to playing Francis Fratelli, he also played the bad good guy, Cypher, in The Matrix. He also showed up in The Fugitive, Midnight Run, that crazy ass movie Bound, La Bamba, Running Scared, Risky Business, and was just recently cast as "Some Idiot" in some movie called The Moguls. And no, he still isn't the guy from Bosom Buddies, even though yes, he still looks like that guy.

To show that I don't mean to disrespect a hardworking (and more rare than her male counterparts) that girl, let us complete the Fratelli scene here.

Mama also starred in Throw Mama From The Train (Eeeeeeeeeeeerwin... Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerwin...) and Scrooged. Merits mentioning that Sloth was played by John Matuszak, a former professional football player (who played for the Raiders).

Remember in Red Dawn when C. Thomas Howell's character is hunting in the woods and kills his first ever deer? Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen--brothers and experienced hunters--tell him that he has to drink the warm, fresh blood of the deer he shot (since it's his first ever "kill"); they say that it is a ritual that all hunters do on their first kill. Personally, I've never killed anything larger in size than a sandcrab (and I was young--I thought I could take them home and have them live with me as my pets), but I can't help but wonder if that whole drink-the-blood thing is true. Even if it is true, that might be the type of thing that blood-drinking-hunters don’t tell laypeople. If anyone would like to (confidentially, of course) shed some light on this query, please do...

These Australian researchers decided to see if the milk-causes-mucus-so-don’t-drink-it-if-you-have-a-cold thing is true. They infected a bunch of volunteers with a cold virus and asked them to keep track of their dairy intake (something I too have often thought about doing). Here is where it gets interesting. They also had them save their tissues and they weighed them all to measure "nasal secretions." They found out that the snot-to-dairy ratio was unlinked. Ha.

Dude, those guys weighed soggy, snot-riddled tissues.

Do you think those guys ever said stuff like, "Oh, this feels like a good one"?

Speaking of, I have been known to say, "That was a good one." It has come to my attention, however, that I primarily use the phrase "That was a good one" after having either had a good cheesepockets-eating session or a good orgasm. Good times.

Oi, sentence sentiments.

Is there a name for those corduroys that aren’t the traditional vertical corduroys (the like cross-hatched ones or the even weirder no-patterned ones that just feel cordy?).

When I go downtown
I always wear a corduroy suit
Cuz it's made of a hundred gutters
That the rain can run right through
-Silver Jews

If I am at the type of eating establishment where I am gonna get real nasty, you know what I like? Easy accessibility to a shitload of napkins. And anyone who has ever sat next to me can tell you that I utilize--to the point of exploitation--a limitless supply of readily available napkins. I usually end up with a big pile of them in front of me when it is all said and done.

You know what the one drawback of the hoodie is? The laying-down-in-your-hoodie. It like messes up your neck placement and stuff. See, you might be cold and reading in bed and you don’t want to take your house hoodie off; you are wanting to just go to sleep with it on. But the hoodie gets in the way (note you don’t want to go to sleep with the hoodie activated; you will definitely end up too hot if you do that.

Just to show the blessed hoodie that there are no hard feelings (I am the last person on earth to talk bad about a hoodie--people who know me know this--I am just being honest), another of the wonderful things you can do with a hoodie is when you are sitting down. If you are leaning against something, seated, you can roll the hoodie up and use it as a neck support/cushion. I like doing that very much...

If you are the chick who is at the bar, reading, then you are just there reading until you get macked on. If you are the dude at the bar, reading, then you are just there reading until you take your sorry ass home (alone).

I really, really don’t get those people who go to a bar to read. Maybe if you were in like some sensitive academia bar in Boston or something, that would be cool. But it's dark and noisy and you have no control over the music (and you look like a wienie). And you pay full price for drinks. Why not do it at home where you control the music and the drinks and don’t have to hear dumbass background conversations? Or go to the freaking library.

In case you don’t ever peep the feedback link at the bottom of the columns*, here is something that Ken sent me, with my reply below it:

Dear Justin,
in regards to The q-tip in the ear thing, my wife Linda, got her PHd in Ear Q-tiping. It's masterbation for the ear. It feels sooo good.
Love, Papeschmear (Dad)

Dear Ken,
I would think that you of all people would know the correct way to spell masturbation.
Junior

*In addition to the feedback link at the bottom of the most current or something page, we also have a message board with a separate link. This message board was never truly utilized, but a few weeks ago I went by to check it out, and it was overflowing with new posts--unfortunately all the new posts were spammy links to porno websites. So there is that.

I don’t really have much of anything in the way of commentary for this week's OC. It was kind of a dud. But here is what I can't stop thinking about. If I were to get to meet Summer in real life, would I have a chance? Don’t you think she would like me? I could be wrong, but I can't help but give myself the benefit of the doubt. And I should probably admit that I think about this way too much. We could go on a double date with Chris and Anna...

You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?

Now that we are talking about Happy Gillmore, I have to get this off my chest. I hated Happy's second caddy, the bum. That dude brought nothing to the table whatsoever. He didn’t do a funny thing (well, except for when he threw that rock into the lake after Happy threw a rock into the lake). Happy's first caddy, the little kid, was way funnier without really having many more lines than the bum.

People like Happy's kid caddy are weird. You know those people who are so pale that they are basically green-looking?

Am I really supposed to believe that it is just a coincidence that Havarti rhymes with house party?

Amber told me that she did a whole year of square dancing in 5th grade. For PE. That's some Atascadero shit. I wonder if square dancing for her would be like riding a bike. This reminds me of a story of a young Mr. Justin, making his way through PE in elementary school with one of those cock-nosed short shorts PE teacher pricks, Mr. Burr. He used to bring in his "rock collection" once a year, every year. So when I was in 4th grade, what I did was (after having seen it for the 3 previous years) I stole that little bitches giant fools gold rock. The only thing is that when I was walking home from school, feeling like the man, I was playing catch with it and I dropped it and it broke into a thousand pieces. Or at least 4 big ones and a bunch of little ones. Whoops. The problem was that since I didn’t like Mr. Burr, I sorta figured that nobody did. So I showed my father what I'd gotten, and he got pissed off and made me give it back to him. This was the absolute worst, cuz now it was just in a bunch of pieces. The young player gave him his once-gigantic fools gold rock back in a brown paper back, consisting of the majority of said once mighty rock, only now in many more pieces. Did I mention that Mr. Burr was a fucker?

By: Justin