So, one of the many Jewish weddings I went to last year was attended by Chandra Levy and her parents. Of course, back then, she wasn't Chandra Levy. She was just a girl named Chandra Levy, one of many Jewish brunettes in a room full of Jewish brunettes.

No one had any way of knowing what was to come. Bizarro.

Anyway.

Hey there, my friends. I have a confession. It is startling and it will definitely change the prism through which you view the world. I wish I had told you about it before, but it occured during my update lapse, and rushing to the internet to release this information was not the foremost thing on my mind, although I see now that it should have been.

I finished the Tater Tots.

Yes. Six pounds of Tater Tots (always capitalized) and several ounces of mayonnaise and ketchup (never catsup) later, my Levi's are no doubt size 36's rather than 34's. The last ration of Tots was polished off with a 99 cent Chicken Cordon Bleu and a can of corn for which I could not previously find a purpose.

My taste is nothing if not refined, you know.

And thus ends The Great Tater Tot Saga of 2002.

Until the next sale, anyway.

Last night: Myself and about a dozen other lucky Chicagoans had the Perry Lopez experience.

There's a dive bar in my neighborhood that I've always avoided. It's called the Triple D tavern. For the local, curious, and brave, the Triple D is located at the corner of Irving Park and Wolcott, just off the Ravenswood Irving el stop and kitty corner from the Timber Lanes bowling alley, location of my formative, childhood bowling experiences.

Wednesday nights, the Triple D is host to a musical open mic. It is free to all to watch or perform, and $2 cans of Old Style abound. For the past several weeks, this open mic has been the only place enterprising Chicagoans could watch Perry Lopez perform.

Perry Lopez is a band comprised of a spoken word poet, a trumpet, and a didgeridoo. For those of you too lazy to click on that link, a didgeridoo is a musical instrument that's commonly associated with the Aborigines of Australia. It is basically a three and a half foot long wooden stick through which one blows to produce a droning, low pitched buzzing noise.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and let me assure you. This isn't just another one of those stupid spoken word/trumpet/didgeridoo bands that flood the scene. No. These guys have got something that sets them apart, and it is red hot.

Last night they used a drum machine, just to experiment. It was P-Lo meets J-Lo.

Ah, good news: I've just been informed by Sally's roommate Mike (didgeridoo) that, although one of the key members of Perry Lopez is leaving for the summer, they will indeed be performing this coming Wednesday at the Triple D open mic with a slightly altered lineup.

I'm going to be there. It starts at 10pm. If you ever wanted to stalk me, this is a golden opportunity for you.

See you there.

And now, a short presentation from 'Oy Fucking Gevalt, My Back Is Killing Me, Jesus I Thought You Loved Me' theatre.

I am Bill's painful back.

I don't know if it's stress or a pinched nerve or what, but, God. I am in pain. It's a major testament of my love for you that I'm sitting up and typing this entry.

You're pretty.

Yesterday, I found temporary relief through a well timed combination of Aleve, masturbation and a hot bath, but it didn't last. Three drinks were later administered at the aforementioned Triple D. Still no good.

Today, I'm going with motionless-ness and clean fresh scent Sportscreme.

Although my body is paralyzed today, my hair looks incredibly fabulous.

Oh, the cruel irony.