More proof that God either doesn’t exist or just hates me: Morrissey is coming to New York this week for a book signing, but I’ll be in Vancouver signing my book, and by ‘signing my book’ I mean ‘partying my dick off with Canadians,’ which isn’t so bad. Still, I would have liked to have met Moz. He’ll be at the Union Square Barnes & Noble from 7 till 9pm this coming Thursday. If you go, please, please, please have him sign a book for me thusly:

‘Dear Jason, to me you are a work of art, and I would give you my heart–that’s if I had one.

Love, Moz.

P.s. I wish you were here and not in Vancouver partying your dick off with Canadians.’

Just plain old ‘Morrissey’ would be fine too. I doubt anyone has the time or energy to beat through the crowds and get me a signed book, though, so let’s make it a competition. I’ll take the winner out for dinner, drinks, dancing, benzoylmethylecgonine, and, if you play your cards right, buggery. That’s my solemn promise to you.

See you in Vansterdam!

(Update: the twits at B & N announced the signing without Moz’s approval… So he’s pulled out. Apparently he’ll be in LA soon for a book signing. Standby, West Coast.)



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