what is the word

I have about eight thousand things to blog about today. My friend Margo's visit over the weekend, which was insanely awesome; the yummy burger I ate at Peter Lugers yesterday; the passing of Hume Horan, who I have greatly admired; the pouring rain on Friday; making out with someone I really shouldn't have; and various other non-bloggable happenings. What I wish I had done, because I would surely blog about it all day long if I had, was to go see Bad Luck 13 Riot Extravaganza's last show ever in Elizabeth, N.J. Not that I've ever seen any of their shows. But they are fucking hardcore! Matt went. Matt is no fucking joke. Apparently Bad Luck 13 will totally try to murder you if you go see them play, but Matt wasn't even scared. The band was lighting off fireworks & swinging bats at the audience. Bats wrapped in barbed wire. They chucked a severed pig's head at my friend Ory, but he dodged it in the interest of keeping kosher. By the end of the show the rumor was that there was at least one death: a girl who'd been hit by a flying saw blade.
I'm sorta relieved that this was Bad Luck 13's last show. If I found myself in Elizabeth, N.J., dodging pig heads & barbed wire bats, my ass would be at Ikea so fast it would make GG Allin's head spin (in his grave). I would be over there eating Swedish meatballs, picking up a desk lamp & sending Matt a text message like, "Call me when that shit is over."