I’d Rather Not Look Like Morrissey [Friday Thoughts With TeeCoZee]

Good Mormon, bad Christian. It’s Friday, January 24, Two Thousand and Fourteen. The weather in Brooklyn is 15˚ & sunny and somewhere, somebody has discovered that they actually have a skeleton in their closet that has been sitting there since Halloween 1997. Meanwhile, my closet is filled with sweaters and I have a few things on my mind…

– I had a dream a few nights ago that it was possible to sneak onto an airplane and then jump off at any point you choose, as if it were a ski lift. I went to Seattle and hung out with a Ponzi Schemer, which ultimately cost me my job. I was fired just for being seen with the bastard. It wasn’t even my choice, the guy just kept following me around. This dream made no sense, considering that I have no idea what it’s like on a Ski Lift. Dumb.

– Digiorno Pizza® is bullshit. Who wants to walk all the way to the grocery store to spend $7+ on a frozen pizza, only to wait 30 minutes for it to cook, 20 minutes for it to cool off and find that it’s still not as good as a Hot and Ready™? Hot and Readys™ are only $5.44 out the door, are ready to eat immediately and don’t require you to own a pizza pan and a pizza cutter. Or even an oven. Dew the math.

– I was determined to be productive this morning. On my agenda was to eat a muffin, do my laundry, write a short screenplay and give this article the business. I was halfway through the screenplay when I got a mysterious text message. It said “Somebody wishes you were more than friends”. It included a picture of me (my Facebook profile pic) with a bunch of hashtags superimposed over it. I’m afraid to look at the full picture, as I would be at risk of downloading a virus (Right? Is that how it works?), but some of the hashtags included “#DudeCanCook, #SweetThreads and #GlassHalfEmpty”. I can agree that I’m a pessimist that has a sense of style, but whoever thinks that I can “cook” is dangerously mistaken. For the next 20 minutes, I dug up as much dirt as I could on (917) 400-5610. Allegedly, the person got the number through some Bodega Phone Service called Omnipoint Communications. The person’s name is I— Z——–. The only name I can think of is Iggy Zimmerman. Iggy Zimmerman lives in an apartment complex right next to a church at 351 W. 24th St in Manhattan. The rent is probably from $2-3000/month. He enjoys tennis, long walks in the park and spamming the fuck out of my phone in order to ruin my productive morning! Thanks to him, I didn’t have time to eat my muffin! (And I’m ashamed to admit that a small part of me was briefly excited that I had a secret admirer.)

– It must be tax season again. All of those seemingly boarded up storefronts have transformed into Liberty Tax Services. You keep finding fake $50 bills on the ground, which is especially annoying when it’s frozen to the ground. And of course, Lady Liberty is hanging around every block, sporting her trademark shades and handing out pamphlets. However, my local Liberty Tax Services is different. The Lady Liberty on my block can play guitar! And damn does she have some sweet licks! Rock on, motherlovers! I’m gonna go do my taxes! WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!111

-I got a haircut the other day, which is a terrible idea during a freezewave. The barber thought it’d be a cool idea to give me a Morrissey cut. I had no idea that this would happen until it was too late. Although I tell them every time, most barbers don’t realize that I’m completely blind without my glasses and I can’t give directions while my hair is being cut. It’s almost as annoying as a dentist trying to make conversation while he has a drill in your mouth. I simply told him, “I want it short, but not too short, leave it over the ears, keep the sideburns, I still want to be able to part it”. These directions usually work to get what I want. When you need an efficient haircut for $15, you don’t want any frills. But when I came to, I found my hair all lotharioed out, with big-ass bangs flipped over my head. The only problem is that I am not the kind of guy that likes complaining, especially when the person I’m complaining to has 3 loyal customers waiting in line behind me. I also noticed that he had a picture of Morrissey taped to his mirror. And he charged me $20, 5 more than the usual fare. Considering that I only had 20 on me, well, he just gouged himself out of a tip. I keep trying to not my the bangs swoop, but every time I wash my hair and comb it the way I like, it becomes a victim to static electricity. So I keep wetting it down to combat the frizz, but then I eventually have to go outside, where it freezes and then I find myself with a Morrissey swoop again. And no, I will not sing “Girlfriend In A Coma” for you. I don’t care how much you pay me!

Okay, 20 bucks and I’ll do it. But I won’t enjoy it!

Or maybe I will.

– Try this trick out over the weekend: Buy a coloring book. Rip out one of the pages and put it in a regular notebook. Go on the train/bus/any public space and choose your subject. Spend the next 20 minutes pretending to draw that person. You can even ask them permission to make it sound more authentic. Once it’s been long enough, make a swift exit while handing them a picture of Darkwing Duck.

Call your Mom. Enjoy your weekend.