Here’s my review of Da Pasquale:
It was Fine.
IN OTHER NEWS:
Twitter started up in July of 2006.
I have avoided it ever since.
Until a month or two ago.
I realized that, in order to promote Bun Boy, I needed to get out and whore myself out.
This involves smearing my name all over the internet, wherever I can. Desperately. Pathetically.
Like poo poo.
There are only a few reasons one would use Twitter. Hereâ€™s what Iâ€™ve come up with:
1. Youâ€™re a celebrity kissing ass or promoting a product so you can get free sh*t/money/your next gig.
2. Youâ€™re stalking a celebrity and think that by responding to their Tweets, this makes you two besties and part of their inner circle.
3. Youâ€™re an average Joe promoting your own dumb website or product.
4. Youâ€™re an average Joe there to read funny/crazy celebrity Tweets.
Twitter is a dizzying experience at first.
Itâ€™s a sea of jumbled letters, streams of consciousness, and Kardashian poses.
Unless you’re God or Gaga, no one is reading your Tweets. They become irrelevant 3 minutes after theyâ€™ve been posted.
Just like $1 million dollars in Bonoâ€™s bank account, even before FB’s stock plummeted.
Iâ€™ve fallen into the trap of thinking I can further Bun Boy by tweeting to celebrities.
I kind of can’t stop. It’s addicting. Like writing sentence long fan letters to people I don’t really care for.
They mostly never respond and if they do, itâ€™s probably an assistant who has a free five minutes walking Kathy Griffinâ€™s dog.
I once tweeted to Courtney Love telling her I had pierced my finger with a wine corkscrew.
I tweeted to Rosie Oâ€™Donnell a stupid line from an old movie of hers, thinking I was oh so clever.
Twitter has made me a sad, sad individual and I sure hope it, at least, gets Bun Boy some press.
Seeing that Iâ€™m now asking Real Housewives for restaurant recommendationsâ€¦..
9749 Santa Monica Blvd
Beverly Hills, CA 90210