Five years ago I appeared on “The Daily Show with John Stewart” in a segment inspired by my Obscene Interiors.

If the youtube link is down the video is also here.

At Jin Patisserie:

Amy Sedaris answers my question about eggs, French onion soup, and thermodynamics in the August issue of The Believer.

I just saw William H Macy at my Trader Joes. I almost said, "Hey, You were in Fargo, and I’m from Fargo. Crazy huh?" No I didn’t almost say that. Instead I checked out the heaving pecs on a hot jogger.

The Hamlet Syndrome: Overthinkers Who Under Achieve
I thought it was just me! Nope, it isn’t. And all my peculiarities, my endless pontificating (usually about myself), my hyperawareness of the influence of my actions no matter how miniscule (not recycling a receipt), my exhaustive extrapolations of every possible situation to their usually negative terminus, and my hyper criticism of everything, yeah, they’re all indicative of the Hamlet Syndrome. Would you rather stay in college forever instead of getting a "real" job? Do you poo-poo people who value material wealth over achieving personal satisfaction and integrity? Does the idea of joining the "rat race" of the mainstream disgust you? Yeah? Then you got it too.
I feel so weird now. The authors busted me on my bullshit. Now I can’t leave piles of dirty laundry and dishes around, and spending the day reading does not make me a better person than those studio execs in their SUVs. I’m better than them because, wait, give me a second…

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been ripped off I could afford to buy some fancy imported cheese. Now, I realize making instruments out of cardboard is not an entirely unique idea, BUT, when their props are constructed with such striking similarity to mine (They even made the cardboard mic!) it makes me feel real shitty.

This was on Sunday. See the me (in the blue shirt) and some other fellows dance to Mates of State’s "All in your Head."

I’m not into enemas but there was a guy living around the corner from Bob Hope who was. Seems this guy died recently. At the estate sale I was climbing through the garbage pile in the backyard, and found boxes and boxes of enema and rubber fetish gear, including an audio tape letter containing some of the freakiest shit you’ll ever hear. (I’ve transferrall 90 minutes to CD, email me if you want a copy.)

The two pics below were the tamest of the 400 or so I found. The first one is a man wearing an adult diaper, probably holding in an enema (I like the painting though), and the other is possibly the same man after having an enema blowout in his jeans. More of the photos will be in the first issue of Dirty Found magazine, out this fall.

"Fucking faggot!" was yelled at me from a passing pickup in Hollywood yesterday. I’m sure it was my "Marriage is totally gay!" bumper sticker that caught his attention. But how refreshing, how old-school.

I made ambrosia salad for 500 people this weekend for a friends show, "God Bless Americana." It tastes best when served in a tropical hat.