Jack Kukoda

So I got my wisdom teeth out last Thursday and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. When I told everyone I was getting them out they all said things like, “Oh my God, I’m sorry” or “That’s horrible” or “They-ah gonna pull-ah your teeth-ah outa your-ah face-ah!” Actually, only the easily alarmed Italian man on my corner said that last one. Anyhow, it was kind of painful for the first few days, but now I’m feeling pretty good. And when they cut the teeth out of my face they pumped me so full of novacaine and nitrous that I didn’t mind one bit.

The thing is, I only got the wisdom teeth on one side of my face taken out. The teeth on the right side are still in there. Therefore, only one side of my face swelled up and at any rate, the swelling pretty much went away by Sunday. Still, I’ve had people who knew I was getting my teeth out come up to me today and say, “How are you feeling? You look good, a little swollen, but not too bad.” And then I have to decide if I want to tell them that, “No, I’m not swollen anymore. This is just how fat my face normally looks.” Or if I just want to say, “Thank you for your concern. And yes, I hope the swelling goes down soon. I’m so embarrassed walking around with this balloon face on my shoulders,” and then cry at my desk because I’ll never be beautiful.

Whatever, I’m going to go eat more ice cream. And then maybe I’ll cut myself, but just a little. That ought to help my stupid fat face.

Sweet Lord have mercy, that was one of the greatest hockey games I’ve ever seen. My face hurts too much to explain the whole thing, but here’s video from last night’s game/brawl between the Sabres and the Senators. It’s pretty rare to see goalies fight, it’s even rarer to see another player fight the goalie. That’s just insane. Enjoy.

Thanks to Deadspin for finding the video. Lots more roundup over at the indispensable Blfoblog. And here’s the AP’s story.

Hence, no posts today. Probably not tomorrow either. I will make it up to you all in free painkillers.

This picture has everything: pretty girls from Buffalo, the Sabres, pretty girls soliciting hockey players for sex inside the arena. Also, if you squint, I think you can see someone eating nachos in the background. Makes me homesick.

Sabres Make It Seem Like 1975 Again [Rochester Democrat & Chronicle]

Is what I would call my peanut and cigar bar if I ever opened one. That, or Shells and Cheese. Because we would also sell cheese. The shells refers to the peanut shells, not pasta shells. Because people who eat shells and cheese disgust me. It’s macaroni and cheese! Why not just have ravioli and cheese or spaghetti and cheese or rigatoni and cheese? Where does it end? In the madhouse is where. Anyway, come by Nuts and Butts this weekend for all the nuts and butts you can cram in your mouth. And bring your friends!

Until I saw this…

It seems like whoever made this tried to make it seem like the robots were rapping, but just gave up halfway through. But still…it’s glorious.

Also, this:

I usually don’t go in for all the being nostalgic for shitty pop culture moments, but…El Debarge plus Short Circuit. In this case I’ll make an exception. And I love how Ally Sheedy was in the video, but they only had a cardboard cutout of Steve Guttenberg. Apparently the Gute was too big a star to appear in a lowly video. Who’s laughing now, Gute?!!! El Debarge has had his revenge.

Related

Woohoo! It’s that time of year again, when my Mom and her friends make their annual pilgrimage to New York to see a Broadway show, put on feather boas, then head out to a piano bar in the West Village to get sloppy drunk and sing show tunes. And guess who gets to accompany them the whole time? Me! Hurrah!

This year we’re going to see A Chorus Line. I’ve actually seen the movie version. It’s pretty, um, dancey. That’s really the best way to describe it. It’s just Michael Douglas sitting in the back of a theatre yelling at dancers. And then the dancers dance. And describe what it’s like to be a dancer. And then they dance some more. See? Pretty dancey. The best part is when this one dancer auditioning for a part sprains his ankle. And Michael Douglas, who has been a dick up to this point in the movie, runs on stage to comfort him and assures him he’ll get the best treatment possible. That part is also the most unrealistic. When I was auditioning for the touring company of The Knights of Dancelot: A Re-Imagining of the King Arthur Fable Through Dance, I saw a dancer get two compound fractures simultaneously while attempting a rather difficult combination. The director didn’t rush to his aid. All he did was get one of those big push brooms and shove the kid offstage. But I learned a lesson that day. Nobody’s going to hand you your dreams. You’ve got to go out and take them. You hear me? Take your passion and make it happen. Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life.

I just made that up. Just now. For rlz. What the fuck am I talking about? Oh right, my Mom. Yeah, this weekend will be fun. If you’re up for some Chardonnay drinking and show tune singing, give me a call this weekend and you can join us. But don’t you dare upstage my Mom or she will cut you good.

What A Feeling! [Lyrics Vault]

Hey fabulous friends! I know why you really come to kukoda.com and it ain’t for your health! Ooooooh, I’m feeling extra sasssssssy today. The extra s’s are for sasssssssssssssiness. Those extra s’s were just because the s key on my keyboard got stuck. And I recently had a stroke. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is I got a whole bunch of new trends I’m ready to drop on you…..now!

Roller Skating with a Boombox

If you thought this went out of style in the 80’s you were….right. But wait! It’s back. In my Brooklyn neighborhood(which is way too hip to tell you about because then you’d just move there and ruin it) you cannot walk down the street without bumping into someone on roller skates, blaring a song by El Debarge. Which brings me to my next trend:

El DeBarge

That’s right, Old El’s back in a big way. And he left the DeBarge family singers at home, because they were just dead weight. You hear me, extended Debarge family? You fucking suck! Don’t let me catch you anywhere near El, or there will be hell to pay. Whoo. Sorry about that. I just get a little emotional when it comes to Monsieur DeBarge. Keep your head up, El.

And finally, just like I always do, I’ve saved my best trend for last. But I should probably tell you to take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the awesomeness of this trend first. So let’s start with some breathing exercises. Ready? First, inhale deeply and-psych! Here it is!

Cowboy Monkeys Riding Dogs

Ka blam! How’s your head feel? A little woozy, I’ll guess. Cowboy monkeys riding dogs are all the rage out in Brooklyn. People throw monkey rodeos in Bushwick lofts with a DJ and everything. And everyone wears American Apparel. And we all drink “lean.” And then throw up. Because our lives our completely devoid of meaning. And Arcade Fire something something. Did I mention the monkey cowboys? It’s great.

That’s the kukoda.com trend round up for this week! See you all soon.

Remember this?

No? Then go to hell. You go right to hell with your flowers and chocolates and fulfilling relationships. What? No, I’m not bitter. You’re bitter. Bitter because you’re such a jerk. Ah, I hope you all get gonorrhea and burn in hell. Especially you, Marino.

Also, I just found out today that I have to get two wisdom teeth removed next week. It’s the greatest Valentine’s Day ever!

My prediction for the sexiest profession this year?

Nude dick models.

Just a guess, though.

Okay, I haven’t even watched this one because I don’t particularly enjoy seeing my fat self mumble about celebrities, but there’s a new edition of the bloggers round table I did for Sara Schaeffer’s show on AOL a while back. Once again, the other participants are Lang Fisher and Todd Levin. We talked about various topics for about an hour and a half and they’ve edited it down to a couple of shorter snippets. Also, Todd ate an unseemly amount of M&M’s throughout. I blame him for my inability to focus. Anyhey, here it is:

Just kidding, Todd!

Previously: When In The Hell Did I Get This Fat?

I think this is the most fitting tribute I can come up with. Godspeed, Anna. You were too beautiful for this world. And you took a lot of drugs. That probably also had something to do with it.

Have a good weekend, everyone. And don’t cry for Anna. She’s with Barbaro now, stealing his horse drugs. And falling down on clouds in a ketamine-induced stupor.

You, intern. In my office! When? Five minutes ago, you piece of shit. You know what? Forget my office. Meet me in the unemployment office, ’cause you’re fired. Who the fuck are you to question when I want you in my office? You’re nobody. Got it? Why are you even answering me? You don’t work here anymore. Now get the fuck out of here. And tell that ugly kid in the corner to come see me.

What’s your name, ugly? What? I don’t like that name. Doesn’t sit right with me. So I’m gonna call you Ugly Pete. Got it? Great. Now, Ugly Pete, I need to know something- What? I know Ugly Pete isn’t your real name. You think I’m stupid?! Get your ugly ass out of my office! And don’t touch anything on your way out. I finally got everything in here just how I want it. I don’t want your ugly ass uglying everything up. Move it!

What are you looking at? You got a problem with how I talk to my ugly employees? Well, maybe you know how to run this company better than I do? Maybe your name should be on that door? Maybe you should get complete access to the company Kia Sonata?! Is that what you think? What? Speak up! Stop moving your hands like that! It angers me! What? Now, who the fuck are you? What do you mean, she’s deaf? Big deal! What?! I know what American sign language is and that is not it! Both of you, get your disabled asses out of this office! Yes, you are so disabled. How? Your eyes are weird looking. They’re too far aprt. Now get the hell out of my office, you back-talking hammerhead shark-looking motherfucker!

Who the fuck are you? The police? Good, because I have a crime to report. You’re both assholes, now go arrest yourselves. It is so a crime. Well if I were in charge it would be. Regardless, get the fuck out of my office.

What the fuck is that? What’s a taser?! And where are my documents?! Oooooh, that’s a taser. Goddamn you all.

This is pretty amazing.

Thanks to Terry for the tip.

Previously:Where There’s No Summertime

Hoo boy, sorry I didn’t post anything yesterday, but as my fellow fashionisters(the male form of fashionista) know, this is my busy time of year! That’s right, it’s New York Fashion Week. I don’t have to tell you fashionphiles just how hectic things can get for a socialite/budding designer like myself during this week, but in the event that some rubes stumble across this site, why don’t I give you a taste of my hectic, fabulous, schedule? Or should I say, “fashion-edule?” No. No, I should probably not say that.

7am Wake up
7:10am Coffee and laxative
7:30am Diarrhea so strong it gives me a headache
7:45am Fruit smoothie and coffee
8am More diarrhea, extra frothy this time from the smoothie
8:15am Shower
8:30am Put on one of the following outfits: (1)Marc Jacobs something or other, (2) Prada full body jumpsuit, or (3) Gucci’s new Fishing Net Shawl(that’s a big shawl made from an authentic Japanese fishing boat’s net. You know it’s authentic ’cause it’s got pieces of starfish on it.)
9am Morning meeting with like 20 gay guys to discuss my upcoming fashion line: “Jack by Jack”. Plan rest of day
9:30am More diarrhea
9:35am Wash ass in bathroom sink
10am Head downtown to super fabulous designer’s fashion show.
12pm Fashion show after-party.
1pm Get thrown out of party for asking DJ to play Hall and Oates song for 20th time.
1:30pm Have lunch at Balthazar or some such place(juice, fruit plate, asparagus, laxative)
2pm Spray Balthazar’s toilet bowl with jet black diarrhea
2:30pm Head back uptown for other fabulous fashion show
3:30pm Pass out at fashion show after drinking two magnums of champagne
5pm Wake up in bushes outside Bryant Park
5:30pm Eat street vendor hot dog out of desperate hunger
6pm Shit pants in cab downtown
6:30pm Shower
7pm Head to fabulous party
8pm Get into full on screaming match with DJ who won’t play “Rich Girl.”
8:05pm Attempt to strangel DJ with my fingerless gloves.
8:25pm Get maced by police
11pm Wake up sobbing in jail.
1am Finally fall asleep.

Yowza! And that’s just day one! Can’t wait to see what the rest of Fashion Week has in store. See you all soon, my fellow fashionophiliacs!

Previously: Fashion Rocks!