 THE
CHOPPING BLOCK
By Ronia Blake
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. There will
be times when I will write this column drunk. Actually, I
don’t like to refer to it as “drunk”. “Clever”
would be a more appropriate description. I’m often very
clever. Sadly, there seem to be people out there who erroneously
believe that they, too, wield this magical power. An email
I received recently proves that I can expect some of these
very people to write in to TCB. This is a great example of
a mere mortal attempting to be clever, yet in the end being
just plain stupid. Roll the clip…
Dear
Chopping Block,
Ronia
you’re kidding. Oh, big suprize (sic) that you’re
doing a gossip column. I guess barflys (sic) can get there
(sic) own writing jobs pretty easy these days. I drink too.
Maybe I should go write a book. Get a fucking job.
Yawn. First of all, Einstein, SPELLCHECK is your friend.
Second, I’m sure the obvious omission of your name
anywhere in this email is purely a coincidence. I’m
sure you really meant to include your name so we’d
all know the author of this brilliantly scathing letter.
Right? Yeah, right. Me thinks you might wanna lay off the
drinky-drinky, tough guy. Learn to spelly-spelly while you’re
at it.
Next!
Gory
story time. I’ve heard that a local tattoo artist is
really wishing he could take back his recent decision to get
a Guiche. For those who don’t know, A Guiche is a piercing
located between the scrotum and the anus. Gosh, that’s
pretty hard-core! It sure would suck if something went horribly
awry with a piercing like that! What’s that you say,
Mr. Anonymous Informant? Something DID go horribly awry? Hold
your cookies, kids. Apparently, there’s an artery near
the location of this particular piercing. The general consensus,
I’d gather, is that it’s a very bad thing to pierce
this, or ANY (for my remedial students), artery. Unfortunately,
this poor gentleman had to learn this lesson the hard way.
Geyser-like issues had to be dealt with. To add insult to
injury, the healing process required that he wear a maxi pad
at all times for a while. I’m sure all of his friends
will gladly make use of this “story that you bring up
to fuck with your friend when he’s trying to score with
some chick” jackpot. Ah, live and learn.
 Word
on the street is…
If
any of you are involved in illicit activity that could potentially
land your ass in the pokey, there is a certain rock star bass
player that should be avoided at all costs. He can be identified
by the sound of DIMES BEING DROPPED. I, personally, think
that ALL bass players should be avoided… but enough
about my personal life.
The
term “Hell on Wheels” took on a whole new meaning
at the recent Hank Williams III show at Stubbs. Apparently,
some drunk & surly guy in a wheelchair (No, not Red River’s
Rollin’ Romeo, Steve.) was antagonizing club-goers,
hurling insults, and even trying to goad a few people into
a fight. WITH HIM! Cruisin’ for a bruisin’. For
real. Alas, there were no takers, despite his valiant effort
(Duh!). He did, however, manage to leave a profoundly disturbing
impression on a few people.
I
wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard it
straight from the horses mouth. A favorite neighborhood fixture
is getting fucking married in October. Ever-present at Emo’s,
Casino El Camino, and Room 710 (and couch, after couch, after
couch), Red River’s award-winning (2004 Drunk Award
for Biggest Beer Bum), neo-Bukowski malcontent has finally
decided to join the ranks of the blissfully wedded. I’m
taking bets on whether or not he shows up at the altar in
his infamous pajamas. Congratulation!
Here’s
a little side note to Larry Stern, photographer for Rank and
Review. My email inbox is chock full of death threats from
upset readers aimed at you for going behind my back and sticking
that fucked up picture of me in the last TCB. I’m worried.
I hope nothing horrible happens to you. Just in case, I’d
sleep with one eye open from now on.
Until
next time, kiddies… Fuck You.
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