Happy Birthday, Jush

• I'm sure all of you read Higginbotham's comment on my last post, because I am confident in the idea that all of you are slavishly devoted to every minute detail of Curtains For You, Kid. I'll include here again, though, in the interest of being thorough:

" I thought your spirit animal was a Lisa Frank style dolphin." (She may be right.)

Not content with the artistically-limiting commentary form, S. Higginslax sent me a series of e-mails backing up her suspicion with photographic evidence. I thank her for this, because I think that old Higginbliggin senses that I'm running out of ideas. First, she provided a picture of the kind of dolphins she's talking about. (Weirdly, there are two of them. Perhaps one could be "The Devil" and the other could be "Himself.") Included also was a surveillance photo of my bedroom that she had somehow gained access to. As valuable as all of this is, I'm not sure that Higginblatt has seriously considered the logistics of a water tank in Enormasaurus's proposed animatronic stage show. I mean, willing suspension of disbelief only goes so far. Everybody would be like, "playing the bass guitar underwater would totally electrocute those dolphins."

• If I was a drug dealer, I'd put my product in Nike SB shoelace pouches, as to better appeal to rich hipster shoe dorks.

• I like it when shit that I like hangs out together. Anybody who has ever been to my apartment knows that I like to read magazines. I read tons of them, because they are disposable, and information is presented in the "textbyte" (did I just make up a word?) format that I find to be the most easily digestible. Two of the main ones I read are Wired, which is weird because I rarely know what they're talking about, and GQ, which is ironic because I'm such a poor slob. I'm like a homeless guy reading the duPont Registry. Anyway. A guy I'm a huge fan of, Paul Pope, has a Transformers illustration in the new Wired, and like a travel piece in the new GQ, located right before The Style Guy, my favorite monthly feature, and a scant thirty-nine pages before the article on Lil Wayne.