Saturday, October 06, 2007


So, I wake up this morning and here is the message I have received from Blogspot:


It has come to our computers' attentions that your readership has well exceeded the allowed number of readers per blog. Our servers are having what is known in layman's terms, as a "meltdown like Chernobyl or Three Mile Island." Please reduce your readership by two readers within the next week, or we will be forced to suspend your Blog for four days.

Thank you,

Um. WHAT?! I know I'm not perfect about updating my blog, and hell, I've even tried to quit a few times for the sake of my true love—art—but, you know that if I'm not allowed to blog for four days, well, each day will just be worse and worse. It's like putting a cake in the oven and just making me watch it getting more and more delicious each day, but I can't open the oven because I'll burn myself. So, yeah, I'm really gonna let THAT happen.

Here is what we need to do. I need each of you guys, my readers, to decide on your own if you REALLY read this blog religiously. And if you think maybe you don't read it that regularly, or you maybe don't always "get it" then I want you to do the honorable thing and email me so I can remove you from my blog readership. Just man up. There are people who check this blog every five minutes, and I don't want them to suffer because of you. I'm sorry about this, but you know it's the right thing.

Thank you,

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Back by Popular Demand

Well, this is a big surprise for me writing this and for the literally hundreds of you reading this. It's a little embarrassing, but I haven't had any time to work on this blog for a couple months because I've been working so hard on the eleventhstreetclubbingblog newsletter that goes out to subscribers. I send out the newsletter about once every two weeks, and it is exhausting. It involves a lot of InCopy/InDesign sort of bullshit, etc. but no need to go into that here—it's all covered in the newsletter. Those of you who receive the updates about the blog via newsletter, I hope you enjoy them, and that it's all worth it. I look forward to reading your comments/reciprocal newsletters.

Ha. "But what about the clubs?!" you're thinking. Rightly so. Little known fact: is it easier to get a girlfriend at a club, or at a, say, Jack Johnson concert? The answer may surprise you: both. It is easy to get a girlfriend at both of those venues, but only one offers the dual promises of a girl and the clubbing experience. Oh, also, run out to stores now and you can pick up my new book: Clublife, by Rob.

QUIK QUIZ: Did you know that Jack Johnson is white? He is a white man.

Monday, July 16, 2007

A Club, Eni, A Canal, Lanacaine, Bulca

Because writing is one of the four major arts, I have decided to be very cautious and choosy about each word that I make usage out of. This endeavor makes writing much maximum tediousness. But out of course, not all of writing is about using the fanciest and most exquisite sounding phrases of tongue. Which is why G-d invented slang. Here is some club slang I have most of recently come asunder:

Breakdunce: This is a person who break-dances with a fancy-ish hat.

Bowdlerize: To bowl her eyes out (make-out).

Bunch-up: When everyone bunches up together so they can do drugs in secrecy. Usual illegal.

Bunch-up (2): When a thong becomes not a thong.

I just realized that whenever I see a reasonably small number in parentheses I get excited because I think it means I have new gmails.

Sunday, July 15, 2007


One of my lawyers dresses so badly that I had to fire him on the spot. This caused a big problem because the other lawyer is his wife, and she was not happy about watching her husband get fired so quickly, and probably not happy that her husband dresses like that. At the same time I made my point that I would not tolerate anything but the best from her and she probably had an inward blush, thinking, "Wow, now I am better than my husband professionally, despite all of the big-time prejudices that exist in this push-and-shove world of corporate law." Needless to say, this whole incident put a HUGE dent in the efficacy of the legal process I am participating in. Am I regretful of my decision? Was I too rash and now I have to pay for my actions in valuable time and less money than I was going to pay before? No. I stood up for my fundamental belief in what people should be wearing at all times. That is what this lawsuit has been about from the very beginning.


Did you even remember that I was hiring lawyers?

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

What the...

I admit, I was thinking of retiring from this blog. I'm not proud of it, but here is my reasoning: writing this blog was making it so that I had no time to actually go to clubs.

Sure, I sound like a crazy insaniac. Sure, just the very thought of retiring from this blog has paralyzed me such that I have neither gone clubbing nor blogged about clubbing. Sure, make fun. Laugh at me for being me. Thanks fans, really supportive.

ANYWAYS, I am out of retirement for one reason: In the New Yorker magazine this week, in the section where they tell you all the stuff that is happening on about town, the title they use for a blurb about some big music and drinking parties is: Mercury Rising. What the? Did they steal that from my blog? Here is a clue: my lawyers are looking into it.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

I've Done It

Okay everybody, here's the scoop: I am in shock. So I am standing in an elevator with a couple of guys who have that look that says "yeah, we go to clubs, and we make a big deal of it. Maybe not the next day when we're hanging over with sunglasses on and eating fries and other greasy stuff, but when it's time to club, we're about clubbing and we do it and we get the job done." You know the look.

So I say to them "Hey, Mercury rising, right?"

And they act confused and barely respond, and remember, I don't even know these guys.

"Mercury rising, guys? Mercury is rising."

Nothing. No response.

So, the thing is, apparently "Mercury rising" is not a common expression everyone uses to indicate that they are going to get drinks and go clubbing. I have been saying this for, I don't know, 8 years now. No one has had a problem with it before, but I guess maybe no one ever knew what I was talking about when I said it. That is pretty upsetting. People have been thinking I am a crazy person with some kind of planetary-science-tourets for 8 years, and I had no idea. I'm going to keep saying it, but now I know to explain what it means. You live, you learn.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

New Planet

Big news, big news, big news, I know, I know, I know, big news. There is a new motherfucking planet, and it is perfect for humans. I read about it this morning during my post-clubbing breakfast (I didn't go to a club, but I ate the same breakfast that I do when I am hungover after clubbing: two challah rolls and a glass of orange juice). Anyway, if we are gonna start living on this planet, we are gonna need some clubs, and who better to man them than yours truly—I'm not bragging, I'm just telling you something you already knew. Now let's dish:


1. Drinks will be expensive, because who is going to need more than one drink at that altitude? It's like drinking in Aspen if Aspen were 12 light years away.

2. There will be machines that can make you grind. This serves two purposes: first, it makes grinding better for the people grinding, and second, it avoids situations where you are grinding with an alien you don't want to rub space genitals with.

3. I just found out that as of now it would take about 1200 years or so to go 12 light years away. I think the thing is to wait about a hundred years for technology to be better, and then we could probably get that down to like a 900 year trip, which would be enough time for all the paperwork and maybe some good spaceship clubs.

4. I'm not sure if everyone understands the implications of the grinding machine I'm talking about: YOU GET TO CHOOSE WHO YOU ARE GRINDING WITH. If we had this kind of thing on earth, all ladies would be lesbians and the human race would die out. I'm not making this stuff up.

5. If we have to have spaceship clubs, I think it would be good to have a zero gravity room for the ladies, but all the men have full-on gravity (this is important to keep erections within the pants).

6. I have been writing this all out of order. Sorry buddies.

7. No one would ever have to work in my space club. It would just work itself. This is gonna be such a good club. Don't worry.

8. A fountain of beer.

9. Because this new planet is probably pretty cold and dark since it only has one sort of shitty sun, everyone could get decked out in the clothes of the time, probably with some alien animal fur. Plus, because no one is worried about global warming on this second earth, the heat would be up full blast, so everyone would take off their clothes. Maybe even a sauna.

I gotta go.