The End

The End by Roadrunner Unitedhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XqRQmGoaB4
So, 565 posts later I've decided to bring this blog to an end. I'd like to thank the few people who read my less than brilliant rants over the three and a half years I've been doing this. It's been fun but as of late I just haven't been feeling it. Good bye all. Stay in touch ...

Fox In The Garden

Maybe the Knicks will have a chance now that they have some Marist brains on the team: Knicks Acquire Draft Rights To Jared Jordan From Clippers, Work On Dan Dickau Buyout

I can't wait to buy a Jordan jersey.

Goin' Nowhere Fast

I think it's safe to say that this little fool isn't going to be too quick to get anywhere. Ever.
Store manager Jay Jacoby displays a two-headed red slider turtle at Big Al's Aquarium Supercenter in East Norriton Pa., Wednesday, Sept. 26, 2007. The rare turtle is on display at the store. (AP Photo/Matt Rourke)

That's No Lie

Yesterday I got this message from Lozo via Gmail chat: Your instincts for finding jackassery never fail you

It was part insult, part compliment and part fortune cookie wisdom. Either way, I think it's absolutely correct and maybe even worthy of being a tattoo on my body someday.

Bacon That Sausage

Everybody knows that bacon is delicious. Really, most meat considered suitable for breakfast is. This weekend an acquaintance was making some bacon. I was patiently waiting by for a piece. As the bacon is cooking he busts out some sausage patties. Breakfast is looking batter and better, right? Well yes, but the curious thing here is that it wasn't breakfast time at all. It was like 10pm. But whatever! If salty pork products are being made who am I to complain about the timing?

Anyway, the bacon is pretty much cooked and the cook has not bothered to drain any of the bacon grease at all so there is a pretty deep collection of artery clogging liquid in the bottom of the pan. As he pulls the bacon out I'm expecting him to dump the grease in a can or whatever and continue to stage two -- sausage. As opposed to the expected grease drain and then sausage cook he just goes straight in with the sausage. Now we're cooking sausage right in the bacon goodness! Genius.

Sure I've cooked eggs in some bacon grease, some potatoes in bacon grease and maybe even a couple of pancakes in a little residual bacon grease, but I don't think I've ever bathed my sausage in bacon grease. I'm guessing 5 out of 5 doctors would agree that this isn't a good idea, but I am also guessing that 5 out of 5 doctors would agree that this idea is mighty delicious.

Whorin' Across America

This posting on craigslist got me wondering many things, but mostly, who the fuck in their right mind would buy into this "deal"?:

Ladies-Cheap/free ride to SF or LA 9/28
Reply to: comm-427573769@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-09-20, 4:29PM EDT

The trip:

Western PA
Chicago
Omaha
Laramie
Salt Lake City
Reno
SF-2 nights
Big Sur
LA

All hotels three star or better. Real restaurants,no Denny.s no fast food.
The options:

Share all expenses. Rooms with two beds or get your own room.

I pay for rooms with two beds and we share my bed an hour each night.

I pay for hotels,gas, meals and all expenses. We share one bed each night

I suppose the "own room" option isn't bad, except that you know the guy you are in the car with all the way across America is creepy as hell and is wanting to hump you for the cost of splitting a hotel room. What's that, maybe $40 in most parts of the country? The other option will save you money, but will have you in that creepy guy's hotel bed for at least 9 nights. Sure it's just one hour each night, but that one hour is probably 60 minutes more than would be comfortable. And of course, this is all contingent upon you making it past night three without being chopped up and thrown in a ditch.

It's like a movie waiting to happen.

And no, I'm not the guy who posted that deal.

Watch Love

So I got myself a new watch. Mostly for running which I have been trying to do yet again. I did a half-marathon not too long ago, but once I was done with that what did I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I ran twice the week following just to stretch out and get back in the groove, but it was really hot that week and as opposed to getting back in the groove all I did was get really sweaty, curse a lot and complain about how my legs hurt. After that, I sat on my ass for close to a month.

I'm beginning to face facts that I don't really like running. I don't look forward to running or get runner's high or anything like that. I do get a sense of accomplishment if I reach a goal I have set for myself and I tend to lose some weight and I think I must like self inflicted torture on some level, but other than that running is not my friend. Anyway, now I'm back into it again and since the battery on my old watch was dying I just opted for a new watch. This is the one I got: Highgear Enduro Max (in red).

Fancy.

I haven't even gone running with this watch yet, but I love it. Yeah, so I'm excited about a watch. Fuck off.

Black and red (my favorite), easy to use, on sale at Campmor and has all the features I need/want. I am especially excited at the fact that it has the ability to keep track of intervals. So if I want to run for five minutes and then walk for one minute and then run for 15 minutes and then walk for three (or whatever combo I'd like), the watch can be set to count that down for me. No more math in my head while trying to run. The less math the better I like to say. I didn't even know this watch had this ability until I got it home, making it a pleasant surprise indeed. I had asked around at various stores for years trying to find a watch that did this. Everyone would always tell me that such a thing did not exist. Most watches would have a standard chronograph and a countdown timer and usually some sort of lap counter, but not something for intervals. Well, my quest is now over. Thanks, Highgear.

If you'll please excuse me, I'm going to go have some sex with my watch now.

Playtime Over

This is a sad state of affairs, no? The Playpen not only closed, but knocked to the ground?: Old Times Square Theater Now Porno Emporium Faces Wrecking Ball I hate it.

Not only is the Playpen the only filthy Times Squarish porn joint I have ever been in (very briefly), but it also served as the backdrop for the liner photos on Kid Rock's Devil Without A Cause. Not a landmark, my ass! I say build your big, "luxury" high rise and keep the facade, marquee and all. It would be awesome.

"Hey man, where do you live again?
"Oh, I live in the Playpen building."
"Sweet. I'll be right over."

I'm no real estate mogul, but keeping that facade certainly sounds like two things: (1) Genius. (2) Gold mine.

Think about it, Tishman. Think about it.

Slightly Therapeutic. Only Slightly.

So another September 11th is upon us. I would like to think that at some point this day will stop being a depressing, reminiscing, anger brewing day, but I'm sure this is the way it will always be. This year sucks extra as it's pretty difficult for me not to trek through Ground Zero and the chaos that surrounds it on the way to work via the PATH train. Conveniently, I got out of the subway and was a quarter of a block away from Ground Zero when the bells start ringing, signaling the time when the first plane hit. Downer. And this rainy weather certainly isn't helping either. I can't believe all that went down six years ago. How fucking old am I?

Anyway, I don't care to watch any video montages of that sunny day back in 2001 or really blah, blah, blah about this, but I figure some sort of WTC something is in order, no? How about one of my favorite uses for the towers ever (at least in a media sort of way)?: Is Fred Durst a tool? You betcha, but that's not the point. Rockin' out on the roof of the south tower is pretty cool (Who gets to do that? And how much did all that cost -- clearance, helicopters, dancing girls?) Personally I find it a bit less depressing than watching planes hit buildings, people jumping to their death and lots of running from explosions of dust. Wes Borland's makeup is pretty cool too. Take note.

Keep your chin up, everyone.

Not On Oprah's List, But I Don't Care

After work today I went to the Strand where I picked me up some books. Imagine that, me reading! Anyway, among the books selected, I picked up Melissa Plaut's book, Hack: How I Stopped Worrying About What to Do with My Life and Started Driving a Yellow Cab.

I've been reading her blog for quite some time now and figured why not see how she is in non-electronic form and at the same time possibly contribute some cash to someone who seems like a decent human being.

I can't really give a review yet (nor will I knowing my laziness), but I can tell you a couple of things. First, I was reading her book on the train uptown tonight and read right through my stop. I didn't notice I had missed it until I was two stops past where I should have gotten off. That must be some sort of endorsement. Also, during my ride uptown and then back out to Brooklyn I managed to read 52 pages which is very unlike me. So, my review at this point is "thumbs up." Go ahead and buy it.

Just When I Thought Things Were Gettin' Better

Another fun day in my 'hood ... three blocks from my apartment: Brooklyn Girl Shot, Leads Little Brother To Safety

And that girl? Totally badass.

Consolidate My Pocket

I always seem to have my pockets filled with crap when I leave the house. Keys, cash, cell phone, credit cards, ID, ATM card, MetroCard, PATH QuickCard, grocery store discount cards, library card, insurance cards, blah, blah blah. Sure, some of it I never seem to use, but the one day I leave it at home is always the day I need it. This little iCache may just be my answer to me livin' a bit lighter: iCache

Keep that in mind, Santa.

Who Doesn't?

I went to N.J. today and the first car I see when leaving the ferry terminal had this awesome bumper sticker on it:
Maybe the greatest bumper sticker of all time.

Slightly Bingey

Here you go, Lozo. No more toe photo. You can stop your crying ...

This weekend I went away with some of my friends and despite not being quite as young and iron-livered as we used to be we still managed to drink a fairly decent amount of booze. Along with the cans of Genesee and Coors Light (I don't know why -- leave me alone), we also busted into the hard stuff. It was a textbook binge drinking sort of situation. Note this photo:
That Chivas bottle? 1.75 liters. Little more than halfway gone. That emptiness is due to myself and one of my friends going a bit overboard one night.

The other bottle? That's 90.4 proof Smirnoff. At the liquor store, there was two bottles of Smirnoff to chose from. One, the standard 80 proof, the other the 90.4 proof., both the same price. I'll take the kick in the face please. About three quarters of that bottle was gone by morning. That was me too. That was split with a different friend the night after the Chivas night.

Moral of the story? I think at the time there was one, but at this point, I don't really know. Nevertheless, I think my liver hates me.

Toe vs. Cart

Maybe it's too many years of having my groceries delivered by Fresh Direct or perhaps it's just the fact that I am a shopping spaz, but here's what a trip to the grocery store on Friday resulted in:
Yeah, so accidentally kicking the wheel of your shopping cart, while trying to get at some produce isn't good. Unless turning your little, defenseless toe a purplish black is somehow good.

The Ohio and The Bklyn

So, as I previously mentioned, I've been out in not so sunny Cleveland, OH for work. It was a two week stay, then back to New York for the weekend as I was signed up to run the NYC Half-Marathon and then after brunch and repacking, it was back to Cleveland again for another week.
Cleveland has involved work (obviously), a baseball game (Indians vs. Twins), some runs through some sketchy neighborhoods, a lot of corned beef sandwiches, some grilling, a lot of rain, some bowling (143 and 137, thank you very much), many comments about Styrofoam and other environmental fiascos the city seems to embrace, some beers, a couple of concerts (Slayer/Marilyn Manson & Incubus/The Bravery), lunchtime naps in my hotel room, etc. It's not the worst place in the world, but certainly not the best either.

Speaking of worst places in the world ... remember how I recently moved? Well, while I don't find my neighborhood scary or horrible (yet) there have been a few neighborhood "incidents" that are making me wonder what the hell I have gotten myself into.

Incident #1: Saturday, (the day I moved in), this guy manages to carjack two different cars, shot at the home of his girlfriend and then got killed by the police in a shootout (135 shots, NYPD? Really?). story

Incident #2: Early Monday morning (two days after I moved in), police pull over a stolen SUV. As they approach the vehicle, both cops are shot. One dies, the other would have been dead if not for his bulletproof vest. story
Note: the dickheads involved were caught quickly

Incident #3: This past Saturday, when I came back to NYC from Cleveland, I get in a cab at LGA to go home. I tell the driver where I am going and he looks at me in the rear view and says in a thick Indian accent, "That's not a very nice area, sir." Gee, thanks. Either way, that's where I live so let's just go. The as we get close, he adds, "Perhaps this is not a very good neighborhood for you. When I drive around here, if I get lost? I don't stop to ask for directions. I just keep going."

Incident #4: This past Sunday, post running the half-marathon, as I'm cleaning up the apartment and myself a bit and packing for my return to Cleveland, the doorbell rings. I answer it and see a guy standing there with a badge around his neck. He introduces himself as whatever his rank is at the NYPD and asks if I live in this apartment. I tell him I do. He asks if I was home last night. I tell him I was. He asks if I heard or saw anything unusual outside the night previous. I tell him that I was in the back of the apartment in my room or the "office" most of the night and ask why he is asking. He tells me, "There was an argument between two men out here last night and one of them got stabbed." Perfect.

So, that's the fun in my life at this point. Two more days here in The Cleve and I'm back to my glamorous NYC life.

Secret Sauce

I've been out in Cleveland, OH for work the last couple of weeks. More on that later.

In the meantime, check out this receipt from a pizza I ordered from Donatos while out there:
CUMSHAKE? I don't remember ordering that at all.

Nothing To See Here

This post on craigslist isn't even a tad bit sketchy:

I need to rent someone car with tinted windows
Reply to: comm-377346903@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-07-19, 11:11AM EDT

I need a car with tinted widows to rent thanks

Location: Staten island
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 377346903

Lexington Crater

So I happened to be in midtown (or whatever you want to call that neighborhood) last evening and got to witness this shitshow. Crazy.

I took an obligatory cell phone photo and once again kicked myself for not carrying my real camera with me more regularly:
Mmmmmmm smokey
I have to wonder if a bit of karma or cosmic intervention or luck or whatever might have saved my ass. On my way up to 42nd Street on the 4 train, we get to 14th Street/Union Square and proceed to get stuck in the station for like 15 minutes due to some door issues. I guess they wouldn't shut or something. If not for that, I probably would have continued on as planned, got off the train at 42nd Street and walked back down Lexington to my destination. And the timing of it all makes me think that I very well could have been right around the explosion zone at the wrong time. Instead, thanks to some crappy door, I wound up getting off my 4 train and got on the 6 train (also slow). When we got to 33rd Street they announced that it would be the last stop and everyone got off only to come upstairs to a giant cloud of smoke and steam.

Man September 11th has changed everyone. It's just complete panic if anything goes wrong. Not that I wasn't thinking like that too, but it really is shitty that when anything of decent magnitude happens we all think "terrorists!"

So anyway, it wasn't terrorists so that's nice and I guess I owe that shitty door some thanks. Or maybe the stars. I don't know. Either way, I feel pretty OK to be alive.

Stop Me When I'm Passin' By

So this new neighborhood of mine is quite different from my old one. There are a lot of things such as (a) I'm the only white person that I've seen and (b) there are lots of anti-robbery styled Chinese restaurants and delis. There are plenty more, but I don't know that they need to be discussed here and now. That said, the one difference that I think is the most entertaining so far is the ice cream man.

Now maybe I've lived a sheltered life, but most of my experience involves the ice cream man rolling by in the afternoon or evening -- targeting times when kids with money from mom and/or dad can chase them down. Not around these parts. The first night I was here was a Saturday and two friends were over enjoying some Chinese food and a 40 oz. or two. Then that distinctive ice cream man music came sailing through the sticky Brooklyn air. It didn't even really register at first, but then a couple of minutes later my friend says, "The fucking ice cream man? It's 12:45! A.M.!" I instantly think of Mr. Whoopee from Vice City out delivering things other than ice cream.

Then tonight I just heard him again. 11:04pm on a Tuesday? Lot of kids out there? Maybe there are. I don't really know nor do I feel like looking, but nevertheless, it's odd. At least odd for everywhere else I've ever lived.

Ah, Brooklyn.