Finally, it has fallen to me, Ian’s brother SEAN. Many times, the torch has passed me by, many times it should have been *I* who has written this damn blog, and always I have been thwarted. I even shut down the power everywhere on the eastern seaboard, but dammit, Ian escaped me, that sonofabitch. And now, finally, I, like Jacob, *I* have taken the birthright that is mine! I have presented an hairy arm to my father, and now the blog is mine! I shall talk about whatever I damn well please, and you’re gonna keep reading.
A couple of things. First, Ian, a womanizer? Seriously? What kind of 19 year old idiot are you? This is the most hilarious myth about Ian ever. Sure, he has dated more than, say, five girls in his life. And there was a stretch in his twenties when he tried to meet girls and date them, which I know is just *shocking*. But a womanizer? You must have been there in ’84 when every tee-shirt was a mass of blood stains and acne medicine bleach spots.
Just like mine. I wear my scars like badges of honor. Plus, I read today that fat is the new Black, but that’s a whole nother can of worms.
Secondly, perhaps you haven’t heard, but even bad publicity is good publicity. The fact that you are still talking about Ian after all these years is hilarious.
Speaking of publicity, go see The Lucretia Jones Mysteries at the Gershwin Hotel, starting September 20th.
Anywhooo, I’ve always felt that blogs were less about talking about what you have done that day and more about how you feel about stuff. There also should be links, and pictures. Pictures of attractive women. Ian always screws this part up. Sure, there are attractive women, but it’s usually his damn wife, and seriously, what am I supposed to do with that?
I also think that you should drink at least a bottle and half of wine before you write a blog, especially if its Ian’s. The wine, it should be said, is part of a case that I stole from his wedding party. So, if you figure in how much the bachelor party cost and the wedding gift, and then you figure I got a bunch of awesome meals and a case of expensive wine out of the deal, I’m actually ahead.
Which is what is important.
So, here’s what I feel about stuff. I think stuff is important, but not as important as feeling good about having stuff. Y’know? You gotta like stuff, or there’s no point in having it… etcetera. I also like the way the young ladies in the videos shake their cans. I feel strongly about the can-shaking.
Man, Ian called from a wedding, and he’s probably sitting with the cast of The West Wing, and if he isn’t, he’ll tell me he was and then he’ll be all, “Yeah, I was gonna get a picture with Martin Sheen, but then we got all fucked up and were playing pool and he was all, ‘Ian, you so cool,’ and I was all, ‘Yeah, man, you cool too.’ and then he left and I couldn’t really get his picture, ’cause we’re, like, friends now.”
So, there you go. Ian’s always been jealous of my writing, so don’t go writing him and being all, ‘Sean’s better than you.’ Some things are just self evident.