Always An Idiot

So, as stated a few posts ago, things have been a little hectic 'round here as of late. Mostly in my head, but I'll give you the rundown of frenzy. It will probably bore you, but that's tough shit.

A few months ago a friend of mine mentioned going on his annual trip to Whistler, British Columbia. The previous year I had been invited, but couldn't go for whatever reason. This year I didn't plan on going either as I was soon to be unemployed and I was also taking a class at NYU. On Saturday, February 24th, in anticipation of some good stories I text my friend to ask if he had been yet.

He texts back: Next week. Getting there on 03/03.
I say: Shit. I should have invited myself. I could use a break from work before it is all over.
He says: Do it.

I think, hmmm, that would be nice, but I'm not convinced I should do it.

I think. I discuss with the wife. I think some more.

I can't get there on Saturday, as they are, because I have already committed to the Vertical Challenge upstate, but I decide I could, at least in theory go up after that if I want to torture myself -- trip upstate, 24 hours straight of snowboarding, back to NYC, sleep, wake up get on plane. Skip work, skip class, run myself ragged ... walking that fine line between brilliance and insanity. Yes!

I then speak with my friend the following day. He confirms that it is cool with the rest of the crew going and even though it is last minute I should check out flights.

That night I get online. I find a flight for a little over $400. I likes.

I do a little more thinking overnight. I sleep on it as they say.

I wake up Monday with a decision to do this thing. I get to work and go to book it. The price of the flight has gone up. A lot. I won't be deterred as I now have vacation on the mind. I find another flight. This one's not direct, but whatever. I'm on a fucking mission. I book my flight -- Monday morning, NYC to Dallas to Vancouver and then the return is Vancouver to Seattle to NYC. Easy fo sheezy. So, I'm thinking all is cool, feeling that happy, "I'm goin' away" feeling.

That night I figure I should dig out some of my shit that is mandatory for this trip. My snowboarding shit, my camera, my passport, my flight information, etc. After some searching I eventually find my passport. I throw it on the table. Then I happen to browse through it, checking out my various stamps from here and there for a little reminiscing and then, the horror! My passport expires on Tuesday -- one day after my arrival in Canada. That's not good. I panic.

I get online. A passport is definitely needed. Fuck.

I start trying to figure out how to get me a passport. Fast. Use someone else's? Alter mine? Walk across the border somewhere in Montana? I've seen Fahrenheit 9/11. I know there is only like one guy that patrols the whole middle of nowhere section of the border. Fuck.

After about a million calls to the passport people. Well, the automated passport people anyway. I get nowhere. I give up that night and decide to call in the morning. (That phone system sucks balls. I'm not even going to get into it, but believe me. It's the worst.)

Early Tuesday morning I finally reach a human. There is an office in NYC that can make a passport on the spot. When's the next time I can get in? March 14. Four days after I return. That's not going to work. There's no talking my way in, no walkup-squeeze-you-in service, no nothin'. I decide I should try the local post office to see if they can do anything.

I get myself a photo, fill out all the paperwork and go to the post office right when the passport window opens on Wednesday on a break from work to see if they knew of any way out of my predicament. The woman at the Jersey City USPS was surprisingly nice. And helpful, or at least understanding. She couldn't really do anything for me, but suggested I try the office in Philly. Good thinking, lady! I tried to get an appointment at the Philly office that does the on the spot passport renewals, figuring if I could get in I would bus down, get my passport and be golden. No luck there either. The earliest day I could get there was March 12. Damn all these last second A-holes!

At this point I decide this passport thing is a loss. Even though I have my photos and my application filled out, I'm not getting myself a new passport in time for this trip.

I do a little more research and find that getting into Canada shouldn't be a problem, but getting back will be (thanks U.S.A.!). I actually called USAirlines to see what they had to say. It went like this:

USAir lady: [Answering formalities]
Me: "Hi. I'm going to be flying with you on Monday to Canada and then I'll be returning the following Sunday. My passport expires on Tuesday. You think that will be an issue?"
USAir lady: "Well you do need a valid passport to return to the U.S."
Me: "Right, but you don't getting into Canada will be a problem?"
USAir lady: "I don't think so."
Me: "And coming back? What happens without a passport? I'm not going to get thrown in prison am I?"
USAir lady: "No ... I don't think you'll wind up in jail. I just think you'll be delayed."
Me: "Well, if there is no jail involved what's to worry about really? I think I should be fine. Thanks."

Although being delayed doesn't sound horrible, I'm not that interested in sitting in the Vancouver airport with nothing to entertain me so I do a little more research. I find that the passport rule only applies to flying. For some reason you can still get across the border with a birth certificate and photo ID if you drive, walk or boat. I guess terrorists only travel by plane?

I get on the horn again and call Orbitz (just for the record it was a very pleasant experience). After some minor financial adjustments I alter my trip. Now it's NYC to Phoenix to Vancouver and on the return it's just Seattle to NYC. And to get to Seattle I find me a bus. Right from the Vancouver airport to the Seattle airport. Thank you, loophole.

I know that was long. And boring. And unnecessary, but you could have skimmed or skipped it or whatever. This is my shit and I'll babble however I like.

So, the trip up was easy (and might I remind you that a previous trip to Canada did not go smoothly at all). The gal at the Canadian border just asked me some basic questions and I was in. Suckers!

Then it was bus up to Whistler. The bus was pleasant. Great scenery outside, a movie inside, and a free Arson sticker which I put on my board. Whistler itself was fucking awesome. Great snow, breathtaking (really, it made me slightly weak feeling) views, Beirut, some stinky BC weed, cold beer (served in "jugs" not pitchers), bacon, jacuzzi, grilling, many laughs and lots of curling on TV. Almost heaven. There are some photos floating around if you care (check out the Flickr thing in the right column).

On the way home, it was pretty smooth sailing too. Big, dumb stretch SUV (or Stretchcalade as we like to call it) down to Vancouver, bus to Seattle and then on home. Once again, no hassle at the border. The border guy didn't say shit about my expired passport. I had my birth certificate at the ready but didn't even need it. Figures. I'm sure if I flew I would have gotten the pinch. But whatever. Mission accomplished.

So, take a deep breath. You made it through the longest post I have ever done or probably will ever do. And all for a really shitty story. If I happen to go again next year I'll be prepared and eliminate the drama and only share meaningful events. Promise.

Look in the Mirror

The other day I was reading about how Sheryl Crow dislikes American Idol. Here's a quote from an interview with Ladies Home Journal (just for the record, I wasn't reading Ladies Home Journal, the quote was in an excerpt in the newspaper): "Let's face it, it undermines art in every way and promotes commercialism. I am sad people love it so."

Really Sheryl? Commercialism like your Revlon commercial or the Subaru commercial that was using "Everyday Is A Winding Road" or your fucking GAP commercial? Or maybe the song you did for the movie Cars or the song you did for Tomorrow Never Dies or your appearances on "The Today Show" or "The Late Show" or any of the other commercial as hell appearances you have made? And those are just the ones I can remember. I can only imagine how many things you have done that have "undermined art" if I actually did some research.

Get over yourself, hypocritical clown.

Finally Foxes

I know it's the NIT and not the big NCAA tournament (where you should have been), but whatever! Nice work, Marist.

Marist 67 - Oklahoma State 64

"A great example of one team that wanted to play, that cared about being in this tournament, and one team that had a few guys that would rather be on spring break." - Oklahoma State coach Sean Sutton

Ouch!

Next up ... North Carolina State on Friday.

Oh, and the ladies? In the real deal NCAA Tournament ... Ohio State on Saturday.

The Only Direction We Flow Is Down

So, I'm a little behind on the blogging here. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Some travel, some quick plan making, some passport expiration, more travel, some snow, some booze, some international borders ... I'll get into all that later (maybe).

Part of my traveling brought me through Seattle. Actually just quickly through Seattle proper on a bus (see photo taken through the bus window) and then out to good ol' Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. As I was sitting at Sea-Tac, coming off the high of my week of fun, eating a crappy airport cafe's turkey and roasted red pepper panini, River of Deceit came on my iPod. Staring out the window into the gray, rainy sky of Seattle with this song playing might be top five on my depression list. Jesus. Mix that with a little heroin and other influences and it's no wonder Layne Staley OD'd.

Not So Good With Kids (or Things in General)

One of the guys I did the Vertical Challenge with has two kids. You'd think knowing this I would be a little less retarded, but alas ...

Right around 9:00 the morning following the Vertical Challenge the phone rings. The phone is old. Probably early 70s if not older, with rotary dial and the loudest fucking ring ever -- especially when it is 12 inches from your face.

The phone rings again.
I pick up. "Hello?"
Little kid: "[incomprehensible babbling]"
*Click* I hang up.

Phone rings.
Me: "What the fuck!?" I pick it up. "Hello?"
Little kid: "Hi Daddy. Hi Daddy. Hi Daddy."
Me: "I'm not your daddy."
Kid: "Blah, blah, dinosaurs. Blah, blah."
Me: "Hey Peewee, you've got the wrong number."
*Click*

I get up to take a piss.

Phone rings.

Friend with the kids laughs.

Other friend: "You want me to get that?"
Me: "Fuck it. Let that kid talk to the answering machine."

More laughter from friend with kids.

I get back in bed.

30 seconds later the phone rings.

Me: "God kids are dumb." Pick it up, "Hello?"
Woman's voice: "Hey, it's E___. M__ wants to speak to his father. You think you could put him on?"
Me: "E___? Shit. I'm an asshole. Hold on a minute. Sorry about that."

More laughter from friend with kid.

Me = idiot.

V-Challenge Recap

Wisely, myself and the guys making up our Vertical Challenge team went out drinking the night before the event. We didn't stay out too, too late, but Genesee Cream Ale, Busch and a few mixed drinks out in two bars that gave zero shits about the NYS smoking ban doesn't lead to feeling tip-top. We may like snowboarding and are charitable enough to raise money for cancer, but obviously we're not that bright.

I won't bore you with the details of the actual Challenge, but essentially it was snowboarding, eating, drinking, more snowboarding, cursing, more snowboarding, etc. At a point about eight hours into this thing we realized that needed sleep was not going to happen, mostly due to the loud assholes hanging around the lodge. Normally I don't mind the lack of sleep, but we started thinking about the impossibility of safely driving three hours back home the following morning and realized it would be in our best interest to wrap it up early. Our money was already turned in and our three person team wasn't on any sort of impressive path in the most trips down the mountain contest, so no harm done. Beyond the driving issue, our wrapping up early was probably in the best interest of the shitheads next to our area who were well on the path of receiving a punch in the face from me. There had already been a brief debate by our team about taking a dump in one of their sleeping bags so clearly that team was on a path to extinction.

So, with violent tendencies rising and exhaustion running the show, we packed it up after about 14 hours, headed back to our outpost where we squeezed in seven hours of sleep before the ride home. We all agreed to push for longer next year. Maybe.

Thanks to everyone who donated.

You Can't Stop This Mouth

So NYC has banned the "n" word ... hmmmm.

Two things about that.

First, why are you city council members wasting time conjuring up and voting on something that is strictly symbolic and isn't enforceable? I'm guessing there might be something a little more pressing in this mess of a city.

Second, I don't use the "n" word and I don't normally have a big issue with the government sticking their nose in my shit. Feel free to watch me via cameras on light posts, search my bag when I'm getting on the subway, listen to my phone calls or whatever. I don't care. But telling me what I can and can't say? Here's two words that have yet to be banned ... Fuck. You.

I'm Not A Cannibal

This probably isn't right to say but every single time I see this photo I think the feet look like candy. Perhaps some chewy, delicious, gummy feet.

In this Oct. 2006 photo provided by Baptist Hospital, a healthcare worker displays the feet of Amillia Sonja Taylor. Taylor was just 9.5 inches (24.13 centimeters) long and weighed less than 10 ounces (284 grams) when she was born Oct. 24. She was delivered after just under 22 weeks of pregnancy; full-term births come after 37 to 40 weeks. Parents of Amillia got to take her home Wednesday, Feb. 21, 2007, for the first time since she was delivered last fall. (AP Photo/Baptist Hospital)

NYC --> CL

Friday night was a drunken night indeed. Friend and co-worker Alberto is off to Cleveland, OH to continue working (as opposed to me who is opting for something new or unemployment). In celebration of this move there was a big ol' drinkathon since that is what we do best. There were laughs, shots, special guests, hugs, drugs, nearly a fight and everything else you might want in a going away party. There was even a celebrity (not really with us, but who the hell is keeping track?). Peter Greene aka the guy who flicks the cigarette at Stephen Baldwin's face in The Usual Suspects and the guy who humps Ving Rhames in the pooper (who then has Ving get medieval on his ass with a pair of pliers and a blow torch) in Pulp Fiction. Celebrity!

So, good bye to Alberto. Here's my favorite photo of myself and Alberto. We're doing our "You're shocking and disappointing us to the point that we are going to kick your stupid ass" face:

Good luck, fool!

My End

Over the course of the last few weeks I've been exposed to a prophesy that has me thinking of doom. DOOM I said!!

I don't want to alarm you, but my days may be numbered. Well, I guess all of us could say the same, as dying is inevitable, but I think my days on this earth may be a bit shorter than I anticipated. Why? Dreams. Not even my dreams. This is actually dreams of two co-workers that predict my demise. One co-worker had two dreams about my death and then another just reported that she had a dream about my death too.

Normally I'm not a big believer of dreams predicting the future or anything like that, but when it happens and then happens and then happens again, it starts to infiltrate the ol' noggin a bit. Why people are having dreams about me at all is one thing, but dreams about my death is beyond my comprehension. But, it's not like I have any control over that. Also, it should be noted that the two dreamers are located in different offices and do not really communicate with each other so there was no chance of cross-fertilization of ideas. Anyway, here's the breakdown:

Dream #1 - Apparently this one was suicide or accidental suicide. I messed something up at work and was ultra upset about it (unlikely). As opposed to taking a day off or drowning my misery in booze I decided to actually drown myself. I jumped onto the ice on some frozen body of water, went through the ice and down into my icy water tomb.

Dream #2 - Some sort of horrible car crash. The dreamer isn't sure if I died or was just badly injured. Either way isn't particularly good.

Dream #3 - I was outside my old office and some guy comes up and shoots me in the face. Dead. I asked, and the dreamer said I definitely didn't instigate the shooter. It was just totally random. Also, the shooter was quick enough with the shot and escape that nobody could ID him. Avenge me!! Avennnnge Me!!!!!!!!!!!

So, that is all in the death dream department for now. If any of these events come true please see to it that the dreamers are held in some sort of mystical regard. Maybe they can go talk about it on Larry King or Geraldo or something. After all, I have always been a fan of Geraldo's crazy mustache.

Slayed

So the Slayer show last night was some kind of insanity. I guess I wouldn't expect anything less, but somehow when you get there the hugeness of the show and the excitement/obsession of the fans always manages to exceed the expectations. Slayer fans are some serious shit.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, I was going solo to the show but as luck would have it I wound up unsolo. I was waiting in the coat check line and look over and see Fran, a guy I know from college. 2,500 people there and I run into someone I know. He too was solo. Well fuck that. We were now a duo.

Coats checked, it was upstairs to browse the shirts and whatnot ($31 for a T-shirt, Slayer? Come on!) and then grab an obligatory drink. The drink turned into two before I knew what happened. Jagermeister and Coors both in plastic cups. What a team.

Fran and I head out onto the floor to enjoy the remaining tunes by Unearth and check out the scene. Once the Unearth ended the Slayer excitement really started to build. Chants of "Slay-er! Slay-er! Slay-er!" would start at random and Slayer reminiscing was running rampant. This show, that show, "awesome shirt, dude." We got in a conversation with two guys at one point who had been to see Slayer up in Poughkeepsie last weekend, were (obviously) seeing them in NYC this very night and then were heading down to DC to catch them on Monday night. Sick! Like Deadheads but with way less mellow and tie-dye and way more metal and black T-shirt.

Before we started talking to these guys, Fran and I were discussing how Slayer fans, despite being fucking lunatics, are a polite, friendly group as a whole. Sounds nuts, but it is true. I heard many more "excuse me" and "sorry" and shit like that during the pre-show crowd than at any other show I have been to. It's like everyone is part of a big, friendly, misunderstood, music-loving cult. As if to solidify our discussion about the niceties, as we wrapped up our chat and moved on to get closer to the stage, one of the multi-city Slayer fans we were speaking with says, "Hey, have fun guys. Be safe." Wha?

Fran and I move our asses up towards the stage. We get so we have only three or four people between us and the stage. The lights go down the crowd starts getting tight. Smushed is probably more accurate. Stage lights on and Slayer rips into "Disciple". Not 10 seconds in and I get elbowed right in the fucking eye. I can see the sort of night this will be. But again with the cultish love ... even during the frenzy of the show there is a constant helping people up who had fallen, blocking the crowd so you can tie your shoe and not get crushed, being courteous and giving a boost to someone who wants to crowd surf, etc. That said, I wound up with the previously mentioned elbow to the eye, the back of someone's head in my upper lip/teeth and a fist right in the bridge of the nose. No blood, no visible bruising (aka "badges of honor" as Fran likes to say).

So the show is nuts and possibly the loudest thing I have ever witnessed. Concert or otherwise. I had earplugs that have a noise reduction rating of 29 decibels and it was still LOUD at some points. It was crazy. Double bass drum, two guitars and bass pounding in rhythm. It would give you that feeling that your chest might cave in from the crushing noise. The hits rolled on -- "Raining Blood," "Die By The Sword," "South of Heaven"/"Silent Scream," "Mandatory Suicide," "Cult," "Seasons In The Abyss," Grammy winner "Eyes of The Insane," "Bloodline" ... fucking great.

I tried taking some photos via cell phone. It was a difficult task indeed. Not losing the phone was tough and even if a photo was taken it was usually a blurry mess. Here are the only ones even slightly worth posting. And I use slightly rather lightly:

Tom addressing the crowd

Kerry destroying 5,000 ears

This photo is pretty awful, but I liked the lighting and the blur:

This is getting longer than necessary, so I'll wrap it up I guess. A few additional notes:

• Some skanky, red leather-clad gal up on one of the side balconies flashed the crowd before the show. I felt like it was 1993 again.
• Somebody in the pit smelled like mothballs. I don't get it. Why? Do you store your classic Slayer T-shirt in mothballs so it will be fresh and moth free for each tour?
  
• Note to guys who are with their girlfriends (or whoever) that are trying to protect them. You are annoying. If they are deliberately throwing their five foot frames in the mix, they probably can hold their own. If they weren't into the thrashing, they'd be on the balcony or in the back.
  
• Hammerstein coat check ... you suck. A complete clusterfuck.
• Guys who like to crowd surf. You used to weigh 168 pounds back in the day. Now you weigh 226. Nobody wants that shit on their head.
• I saw a guy coming down for the balcony post-show that had two broken arms in slings. Pretty hardcore being out in public at a metal show when you can't even wipe your own ass.
  

One last thing. After the show (and the nightmare coat check) I go in to use the bathroom. On the wall, in six inch high letters was the word "Slayer" ... written in blood.

Sick!

Fostering What Is True And What Is Decent

Dear Catholic Church,

Here's something I thought you should know:

1. People are going to have sex, condoms or not. Your theories and statements are absurd.
2. Not everyone in this world is Catholic, therefore they don't follow your rules, suggestions or sexual restrictions.
3. There are some couples (hint: non traditional male/female couples) that (a) the Church won't recognize and (b) aren't allowed to marry even in non-religious settings, so your theory to abstain until marriage doesn't really fit

Please remove your heads from your antiquated asses.

Sincerely,
WJR

PS This opinion has nothing to do with my witnessing of Slayer last night.

Showbound

Tuesday night I went on a solo journey to see MC Chris at Mercury Lounge. That guy is some funny shit. Sort of a mix of Pee-Wee Herman and well I don't know ... um, ODB? Probably not, but definitely Pee-Wee. Anyway, on his MySpace page under the "Sounds Like" section he has "Sounds Like a smurf having an orgasm" I think that just about sums it up. So the show was good. Funny, full of crowd participation, and lots of rhyming. Here's a photo of MC Chris I took (note the "ATHF is the bomb!" T-shirt): click. I know, I know. A shitty photo. What else is new?

Yesterday was the big V-Day. Nothing exciting to report there. The wife and I are pretty fed up with dealing with the formalities of the day so we did our best to make as if it wasn't even happening. Again, what else is new?

Tonight ... actually just an hour or so from now I'll be going on another solo mission, but this time to see Slayer with openers Unearth. It should be retarded. Not many old school metal bands continue to stand, but Slayer keeps on going. When bands like that come around the old school metal heads (the guys who you were afraid of in high school) come out of hiding. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, Camels, gnarly mustaches and a lot of throwing up the horns. It should be great. Even if I didn't like Slayer's music (which I do), they always bring out a crowd that is worth the cost of admission. Alright, I gotta go get my back ready for the show ...

Hand It Over

The first weekend in March some friends and I are participating in the Vertical Challenge at Greek Peak up in Cortland, NY. It's 24 hours of skiing/snowboarding to benefit the American Cancer Society. 24 hours of up and down the mountain should make for a lot of falls, a lot of laughs, maybe some crying and definitely some sore legs, but hopefully in the end it will also help fight cancer.

If you would like to donate some of your hard earned money to Team Porkoholics it would be much appreciated and you can do that good deed here. (our team page is a work in progress so get off my back). You smokers should definitely think about this as it's your nasty, black lungs I'm trying to save.

Thanks everybody!

Oh! Also, we may still have some room on Team Porkoholics if you are interested. If you have the urge to join such an elite group, please contact me. If you are qualified and you can pass the stringent Porkoholic's review board, you are in!

24 hours of skiing/snowboarding -- American Cancer Society Vertical Challenge

Greek Peak Mountain Resort

March 3-4, 2007

Liquid Heat

So I was walking around for a good chunk of time the other day, generally freezing my ass off and got the craving for something warm. Coffee? Hells no. I'm not a coffee drinker. I don't like it. I don't even like coffee flavored ice cream. Tea? Eh, I can make that at home and by the time I get there I'll be warmed by a little something called heat so the moment will have passed.

I spy a Dunkin Donuts and due to being choked to death by advertising I think, "Yes. White Hot Chocolate. I'll try that." Let me tell you how delicious. It tastes like vanilla frosting. Vanilla frosting that not only rots your teeth and makes you fat like regular frosting, but also warms your innards too. Scrape the frosting off a birthday cake, heat it up and put it into a cup. Fucking good ... at least to my juvenile taste buds.

It seems to be far from good for your health, so if you get one, make sure you have burning off calories and intend to continue to do so or you'll look like "Weird Al" Yankovic in the "Fat" video before you even finish the cup.

And on a side note, shouldn't they call it Hot White Chocolate instead of White Hot Chocolate? I feel like White Hot Chocolate could be regular hot chocolate that is just so fucking hot it is beyond hot. "Shit, this hot chocolate is beyond hot. It's white hot!" Just a thought.

No More Awards For Me

When will I learn to just not even try to watch award shows?

I find myself much more of a music person than I am a movie person or television person, so I don't really get surprised when I can't deal with the Oscars, and I am smart enough to know I want nothing to do with Emmys, but I've tried watching the Grammy Awards tonight ... it sucks balls! Every year I have to realize this all over again. Well, I have once again have realized it and I will not do it again. This was it. What a waste of time. P fucking U.

Another Round

Alright. I'm back.

After focusing on some soul searching, therapy, socializing, exercising, job hunting, cursing (even more than usual), sleeping, and other such activities, I guess I will give this blogging business another try.

Thanks for the support, sass and threats from the handful of you who actually read this garbage. I just hope I can now live up to whatever expectations you may have. Such a buildup for the return and all you get is my blah, blah, blah. Well, I guess you get what you pay for, cheapasses.

Taking A Break

Not that I have been a blogging machine or anything like that, but I just thought I would officially announce that this blog is on hiatus. At least for awhile.

That is all.

Are You Mocking Me?

You may or may not know that I am a sucker for covers. Most covers anyway. I prefer them to be sort of fun thing for the band to do that entertains me. Maybe something for the encore at a concert or a bonus track on an album or something whipped up for a movie soundtrack. Whatever really. But, I think it is a little corny when say, Limp Bizkit did that cover of Faith. Don't get me wrong, it was a cool idea to do that cover, and God knows it was catchy, but it was corny to make it the single that essentially introduced the band to the world. Anywho, now that I've said all that (for pretty much zero reason), I just wanted to share this particular cover that I stumbled across that I find pretty amusing: video

(I tried to embed this video, but it wasn't working, so you're going to have to deal with this unsexy clicking. Also, even though it says that the artist is Rise Against on the side there, it's not. It's Cobra Starship.)

They're Not Playing Grab-Ass Anymore

About a minute into this video this Kodak guy gets ranting pretty nicely:

When selling something, you just can't beat going the crazy route as far as I'm concerned. Besides the crazy/funny, I'm glad to see Kodak seems to have a plan to get back in the game. Keep upstate NY and the good ol' U.S. of A. in the thick of things!

Back To A Clean Slate

So today is a new year. Two thousand and seven! How unexciting.

Last night I did something different for my kicking the old year out and welcoming the new year in routine. I did a 4 mile run in Central Park. Not just by myself. I'm not that much of a loser. I did this. Myself, my wife, three other friends and 5,000 other idiots starting the year off with healthy style. I was concerned that it might have been yet another mistake to add to my list of 2006 retarded moves or a poor, unfestive start to 2007, but when I woke up this morning with some slightly sore legs instead of a headache and cottonmouth, I realized I may have done myself a pretty sweet service. It was fun and wacky and certainly the healthiest thing I have ever done on January 1.

I was trying to recap my previous New Year's activities (it's a tad blurry) and I think this may be the first December 31 to January 1 transition where I haven't been at least drunk, if not completely shitty in 16 years. That figuure makes me feel (a) gross and unhealthy and (b) old.

[In the name of full disclosure, I did have four beers throughout the night, but I don't think that messed with my wits at all.]

Anywho, it's now a new year, so drunk or not, I hope all of you had a nice evening and will have a kickass '07. Leave the stupid bullshit from '06 behind and start fresh. This means you! (and me too). Try my resolution if you'd like. It's this: Don't be an asshole. Word on the street is that this is doomed to fail, but I don't like that street's negativity. Not one bit.

The Year in Tunes

No year is complete without some sort of "top [insert number here]" list. I figure I should follow the rules so I give you my top 10 albums of 2006 (in no particular order):

Peeping Tom - Peeping Tom
Trivium - The Crusade
Basement Jaxx - Crazy Itch Radio
Rise Against - The Sufferer & The Witness
Gym Class Heroes - As Cruel As School Children
Slayer - Christ Illusion
Swollen Members - Black Magic
MC Chris - Dungeon Master of Ceremonies
Robert Randolph & The Family Band - Colorblind
Europe - Secret Society

Check 'em out.

As Long As You Are In The Spending Mood

I was just reading an article in The Village Voice about the folks at Google opening a new office in NYC. The whole thing is pretty interesting (you can check it out here), but the part that really got me was this:

"Based on conservative real estate industry estimates of the building's asking price -- about $33 per square foot -- Google will likely pay at least $10 million per year in rent ... "

$10 million per year ... Yikes!

Um, Google? I'm not sure if you are aware of this or not, but I am going to be out of a job as of March 30. So if you are going to be throwing that kind of money around perhaps you could get me involved? I live close, I'd cost you way less than $10 million a year and I am a dedicated worker. I look forward to hearing from you (my e-mail is near the top of the column to the right). Thanks.

Toll Fun

I really enjoy this little comedic prank: http://www.zug.com/pranks/turnpike/

IOUs, a photo of a guy flipping off the prankster, 50 Cent stickers, citrus, foreign currency and Mariah Carey ... apparently, that's a great recipe for making me laugh.

Family Time

So, I was upstate this past weekend for some Christmasy family time. It was the usual routine ... a lot of blah, blah, blah by my mother, too much unhealthy food in my gut and talkin' sports and my career unknowns with my dad. Some memorable moments:

• I got up to my parent's house Friday night. I have to wake up sort of early (at least by my weekend standards) on Saturday to pick my wife up at the train station. I didn't bother setting an alarm, but conveniently my father wakes me up. In the years since I've been away from home his ability to hand out a heart attack has not wavered. My wake up was like this, "Bill! Do you know what time it is?!" I'm in a deep sleep, no idea where I am or what day it is and I can guarantee I don't know what time it is but it certainly sounds like I am late for something (I wasn't).

• My Uncle discussing before dinner his dislike for his cousin's son (I guess he doesn't really work or attempt to work): "So I tell him, 'Look, your son is a loser.'"

• My Aunt, a former fan of Rachael Ray, who unbeknownst to me has done a 180 since we last spoke: "She's on all the time. All the time. And she's gotten more and more annoying. That fake laugh, the way she hams it up for the camera and God, has she gotten FAT!"

• Driving back from the mall I pull onto the highway and immediately have some chubby, frog-like woman in a minivan box us into an "exit only" lane. After I mumble some insults and threats I manage to get around her only to notice my father who is riding in the backseat giving her the finger. It's not just the finger either, it's a violent gesture like he might be trying to jam it up her ass. All about the holiday spirit in my family.

• On the train ride back to New York City I saw a murder. A murder of crows that is. Just south of Poughkeepsie. Shitloads of crows. If not for my protective metal and glass cocoon, it would have been a little unnerving.

Just The Way Baby Jesus Likes It

Enjoy your Christmas everyone ...


... even if you don't really celebrate it.

Somethin' Ain't Right

Dear Amtrak,

I have an issue with you. Many issues actually, but I'll just focus on two for now. Think something looks screwy when you compare these two trips? One is my trip to Chicago a couple weeks ago and one is my upcoming trip to Albany, NY. Take a look. See anything odd?:

American Airlines
New York --> Chicago, IL --> New York, NY
Round-trip stats: 4 hours, 45 minutes - 1,440 miles
$139.60

Amtrak
New York, NY --> Albany, NY --> New York, NY
Round-trip stats: 4 hours, 55 minutes - 284 miles
$121.00

Screwy issue #1: A flight, which involves jet fuel, free snacks/drinks and little air nozzles for personal climate control only costs $18.60 more than rumbling up the banks of the Hudson? Jesus. AND you're subsidized by the government. Why so expensive?

Screwy issue #2: The train up to Albany takes 10 minutes longer (in the event that the train is actually on time) than a flight to Chicago? I know planes go faster than trains, but the train is not being used to its full potential. Fix the tracks, upgrade your engines/cars and let's move!

Despite my irritation, you'll see me later today. Don't make it any worse than it already is.

Sincerely,
WJR

Moms ... Always Jumping To Conclusions

So Mothers Against Drunk Driving decided to cut ties with Miss Teen USA Katie Blair thanks to allegations of hard partying (whatever that means). Isn't MADD getting a bit out of control cutting ties with Miss Teen USA? They aren't Mothers Against Underage Drinking, they're Mothers Against Drunk Driving! I see that there are statistics on MADD's web site about underage drinking being a big cause of accidents/deaths, but isn't an underage Miss Teen USA setting a good example if she drinks (as many, many teens do) but does not drive?

Perhaps the decision makers at MADD just don't remember what it was like to be young (and/or hot).

Stocking (and shirt) Stuffer

One of my favorite press release headlines of 2006:

Dr. Stephen T. Greenberg Says It's Going to Be a Cosmetic Christmas As Many Patients Are Saying 'All I Want for Christmas Are My Two ... New Breasts!!'

Dear Santa,

I've been really Effin' good this year therefore I'd like the following:

• A pony
• T.M.X. Elmo
• new breasts
• Xbox 360

Thanks. I'll leave some cookies out for you.

Stay Warm,
WJR

Put Your Junk In The Box

Just a few short shopping days until you need to get something under that tree. How about a gift that keeps on giving? Watch and listen carefully to this video and you'll see that in just three easy steps you've got yourself a present worthy of masterpiece status: click here

Perhaps you've seen this already. Perhaps even numerous times. I don't care. It makes me laugh and I don't see any reason to not have it at my fingertips at all times.

FYI - please do not try to give me your dick in a box. Thanks.

You Can't Stop It

Venezuelan Leader Says Castro Not Dying

Um, not to be Mr. Negative or anything Chavez, but I'll let you in on a little secret. We're all dying. We're all sloooowly dying. Me. You. Even Castro. Just a little something to think about.

P.S. Castro is closer to death than most of us.

Two In A Row Is Enough

The other night I caught Gwen Stefani on Letterman doing Wind It Up and then last night I was in a bar and her video for the same song came on.

Is it bad? No.

Is it catchy (yet slightly annoying) and is she easy on the eyes? Sure. But ...

But?

Yeah. But. There's always that. My but is that I'd like some No Doubt back. Am I a huge fan that can't live without them? Not even. I just prefer Gwen rockin' that, rather than doing this other stuff. Two solo albums in a row ... sure it's a nice creative outlet and it's a chance for her to be all independent and dress how she wants and synchronize a bunch of Japanese girls in wigs, but what about my ears? I'd like some No Doubt. That's all.

It's just a request.

Chicago Recap

In case you were wondering, I survived my venture to Chicago. My second time there and my second time enjoying it. I wouldn't mind living there one bit. There wasn't any groundbreaking events to report, but here's a brief rundown of the happenings:

Arrived Thursday. It was fucking cold. Low double digits, with wind that was making it pretty much miserable. I decided to not be a pussy and get out there anyway.

I headed to the Shedd Aquarium. I briefly thought art museum, but then realized my attention span is about the same as a housefly, so I figured fish and lizards might be a better bet than art. I had a cool photo of a California moray, but I think I may have sent that from my phone to a stranger in a bar at some point in a Bluetooth experiment. I do have this one of some jellyfish though:
While snapping this photo I heard a little kid ask a question, "Why are they called jellyfish? You can't eat them, can you?" If only there was an open top. I would have slapped one of those things on toast and handed it over to him for a delicious afternoon snack.

I also got a shot of the dolphin tank that overlooks mighty Lake Michigan (I'm guessing just to tease those bottle-nosed perverts with a view of freedom):

Thursday night was out to The Dark Horse for some eats and Steelers watching. The Steelers fans and bar workers (also Steelers fans) were pretty nuts. If someone had knocked me out and I woke up in The Dark Horse I would have no problem believing that I was in Pittsburgh. There was a lot of yelling, chanting, dancing and drinking in the name of the Steelers. Despite my being a Steelers fan, I pretty much spent my time focused on my burger, wings and $3 Guinness pints.

Friday morning I woke up to a pleasant offer from Todd, my host's roommate. Pancakes. There was also bacon. Todd, myself and Todd's lady friend discussed how much bacon should be made, and we opted for the entire one pound package. Although there was some talk of saving the leftovers for BLTs or whatever, we ate the whole pound. The three of us are now forever bonded in salty pork. Bacon bonds can never be broken. That's a fact.

Post breakfast, after some digestion time (which included running) I hit the town. First stop was Mr. Beef. You can tell it is going to be good just by looking at the outside:

Beef, peppers, celery and beef juices ... simple, old school and delicious:

Despite the obvious potential for shitting my pants after all that healthy eatin' I ventured on to my next stop, The John Hancock building observatory. I did a lot of looking out windows and cursing annoying French tourists under my breath. Here's me keepin' it real 1,000 feet above the Chicago streets:

From there, it was out for some happy hour at various places around Wrigleyville with former co-worker ACG until it was time to meet up with my host and comedy writer, Matt at his latest show at Second City (there are three more chances to catch it Two Thousand and Sux, so get on it). Post show was a stop at the Old Town Ale House. $8 pitchers of Old Style and a jazz only jukebox. 'Nuff said.

Saturday was a bit lazy in the morning, but some brunch from Kitsch'n got the ball rollin'. There was a little shopping, a little TV watchin' and a jog, but once the sun went down, it was time for a chili cook-off that one of the guys from the Two Thousand and Sux show was hosting. Nine chili entries for the tasting and voting and lots of ridiculous discussions such as: aquarium mammals and their genitals, vegetarian chili being "total bullshit," U.S./Canada relations, wearing beer stained clothing, fag hags, chili voting fraud, Rice Crispy treats - greatest dessert ever? and much more.

After the chili voting was done and awards were handed out (I am protesting the results) and further socializing was accomplished, we were off to continue the night. Stops at the fancy Hop Leaf, the less fancy Simon's Tavern for some Glogg and the not fancy at all, Carol's Pub. That was more than enough.

Sunday was breakfast and then some football (American and otherwise) watching until it was time to get back to the airport.

A little tired and slightly lacking in health, but overall I think it is mission accomplished.

Seize Your Opportunities

Dear Oscar,

Next time you have an opportunity like this, please slam the lid down and ship that can off to a garbage barge heading for deep ocean waters.

Thanks in advance.

Sincerely,
WJR

Sell Out for J.C. in J.C.

Seen Yesterday in Jersey City:

Chilly Willy

November was so full of freakishly warm days that I seriously started thinking of where I could buy property now that would eventually turn into oceanfront property once the polar ice caps melt. Before I had all that figured out, yesterday came along and WHAM! it's cold. No easing into this winter I guess.

A certain negative on the winter weather is being outside, getting cold and then needing a visit to the bathroom. Come inside, head for the bathroom ... warm genitals do not like cold hands.

At all.

Adding To The Unnecessary

I'm a little confused as to why anyone gives a shit about this whole Gwyneth Paltrow thing.

Maybe she was misquoted. Maybe not. Either way, I really don't care what Gwyneth Paltrow thinks or what Gwyneth Paltrow says or what Gwyneth Paltrow does. I'm not sure why anyone does. She named her kid Apple for Christ's sake. You think she gives a shit about what anyone thinks?

I'm not a big fan of people saying nasty things about where they are from since if you don't like where you are you can go somewhere else, but does this need to be a major news story?

A more important question I guess would be why am I even addressing this? I really have no idea.

Now I'm Ready For Month Twelve

Whenever I am out of the apartment or lying in bed or showering or whatever else it is I do, I always think of shit to blog about, but then I either (a) say "fuck it, it will never be written well enough to be as intriguing a story as it was when it was in my head" or (b) forget what the hell I had been thinking of or (c) just feel too lazy.

They always say "finish strong" and it's now the last day of November so I feel like I need to add something on this piece of shit. So, here we go ...

I've actually had a decent week of shit to talk about, but see (c) above for the lack of writing about that. In short, here is the recap:

(1) I went out on Tuesday to see Toole off to Cleveland* properly. By properly, I mean $1 mugs of Bud Light, mocking "We Didn't Start The Fire" (the "cola wars" part was really the catalyst), screaming a lot, shooting virtual deer and cursing the PATH. There wasn't a lot of sleep that night and I probably would have been better off going to the psych ward rather than work the following day.

*I really hope Toole dances and runs around like a fucking psychotic Drew Carey when he gets out of work. He never did in NY/NJ, but I think Cleveland may change him.

(2) Wednesday night I went to see Hamell on Trial. I don't know how many fucking times I have to say it, but I guess I'll do it again: Go see Hamell. You won't be sorry.

(3) Today I had off from work. I wound up helping a former co-worker move her crap out of her apartment as she is off to live upstate.

Productive, No?

I also booked myself a trip. Next Thursday, I'm heading for Chicago for a long weekend that will probably be an extended version of (1) above, but instead of Bud Light it will be Old Style and there will be no PATH train or Toole. Last time I was in Chicago, things were a little messy in more ways than one. I can't wait.

There. That was good. You may now enter, December. Welcome.

Have Fun Being Solo, Little France

Dear Canadians,

Go ahead and let those Quebecer fucks cut out and make their own country. Face it, you hate them just as much as I do (at least every Canadian I've ever met has). They bring your whole nation down. They give you normal Canadians a bad name. Let them be free. I promise to visit Canada -- real Canada -- and never set foot in their snooty "country."

So you lose out on some mountains and maybe some beer, but there are plenty of other non-Quebec options around your great land. Plus, if you really need to, we can always do a little search for "weapons of mass destruction" and the place will be all yours once again.

Sincerely,
WJR

PS I'm willing to give up Voivod and Men Without Hats in exchange for keeping Celine Dion and Simple Plan locked in the new nation -- physically and aurally. Deal? Deal.

See You Soon, Turkey

On this special day where we all gather around our annoying family and eat until we feel like we'd be better off dead, I thought it would be nice to post something turkey related.

There's probably no better way then with some lines from "Into The Oven" by everyone's favorite band, Anal Cunt:

"First you lived on a farm.
Then you got your head cut off.
Then I bought you in a grocery store.
Pretty soon you'll be on my plate.
Into the oven.
Into the oven.
I'm gonna eat you for Thanksgiving."

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Cord Says Winter

I have a brief iPod-related rant here. I know Lozo is already losing his shit at the mere thought of such a thing, but just hang tough*, Lozo. It's not going to be that crazy. I'm not a huge iPod freak to begin with. I only have a shuffle, so I'm not hauling around every album I own or feel as though I'd die without my iPod or any such shit. My thought process for iPod use pretty much involves jamming my iPod in a USB port, hitting Autofill button, letting it fill and then walking out the door. I get a random sampling of the retarded crap I stockpile for convenient listening on the PATH or if I feel like increasing my odds of death, while I skateboard home from work.

Anyway, my rant isn't really about the iPod itself, the awesome songs I may or may not have heard, the iPod's role in society or anything like that. I wanted to bring up the way the cord for the headphones gets so stiff and annoying when it gets cold. Today was the first day I really dealt with it this year. The viscosity (if that is even correct terminology with cords or even solids in general) gets all out of wack, and out of wack with the quickness. The cord is all stiff and sticking out all strange and it is impossible to get under control until warmth is restored. It really drives me nuts.

That's really all. I don't really have some sort of awesome conclusion to all this. I just thought I'd mention it.

*I'm sure some of you were hoping for Hangin' Tough rather than Hang Tough. Now everybody is happy.

Somethin' Wrong With a Little Bump and Grind?

Ahh, school dances ... so dramatic. So controversial. It's always something with the kids and their hormones vs. the adults and their judging. Parents (and teachers) just don't understand!

The headline for this news really should be "Rebecca Watson's Popularity On The Upswing At Fayetteville-Manlius."

No Grinding for You! Upstate School Cancels H.S. Dance

MANLIUS, N.Y. -- Administrators in a suburban upstate New York school district have canceled a high school dance over concerns about students "grinding," a sexually suggestive dance style.

"Grinding to its extreme is pornographic," said Fayetteville-Manlius High School Principal James Chupaila. "Kids say this is how they dance at a club or on MTV. But this is a school event, and we have a responsibility to monitor these things. It's just inappropriate for a school setting."

Administrators canceled a Dec. 2 dance because of students "grinding" at the Homecoming Dance in October, which was so persistent that officials ended the dance early, Chupaila said.

The suburban Syracuse district is banning grinding at all future dances, Chupaila said. The next dance, in February, will be combined with an "activity night," with alternatives such as volleyball and badminton offered, he said.

Dirty dancing isn't particularly new, but school officials have been paying more attention as it becomes more explicit and popular with the mainstreaming of rap and hip hop music with suggestive lyrics and videos. Schools in Maine, New Hampshire and Montana this year outlawed the dance style so that dances could go on.

At Fayetteville-Manlius, parents were upset and some students complained about "inappropriate grabbing or touching" on the dance floor, Chupaila said.

Some students objected to the ban.

Sophomore Abby Damanski, 15, said kids won't attend the dances, which raise money for class events, if there are restrictions.

Junior Rebecca Watson said the dance style replaces slow dancing, which is no longer popular.

"Your clothes are on, so I don't see the problem," she said.

---

Speaking of Parents Just Don't Understand, what the fuck is this ?

Straight Shooter

I was checking out the most popular news stories/photos on Yahoo! and oddly this photo caught my eye:
The caption alerts me to the name of Katie Price. I thought, "Katie Price? Is that someone I should know? She is on the most popular list and all." So I look her up on the ol' Google and it turns out, Katie Price is also known as Jordan.

Now we've all seen Jordan naked or close to it about a million times (just in case you haven't, I'm sure you can find a sample here), so big deal, I know. Well, the real point of this post is honesty. Yes, honesty. I love this quote from Katie or Jordan or whatever we call her:

"Some people may be famous for creating a pencil sharpener. I'm famous for my tits."

Now that's a gal who knows her reality.

Fully Aware

Yesterday I was heading out for a run and two guys cross my path. First guy is carrying a case and a half of Milwaukee's Best. Second guy is carrying a case in a half of Schlitz.

I say to guy number one, "That looks like you guys can plan on a hungover day tomorrow."

He responds, "Oh, I think this one will be bad enough that it will be hungover tomorrow and Monday."

Eating Rampage

Yesterday, as the workday and workweek drew to a close, I got that craving I often get -- get home and lie on the couch. Just for a little while or the whole night. Whichever feels right. However, this wasn't an option this day as I had a birthday party to attend at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que.

Stand by colon. Here comes meat ... and lots of it.

Since I didn't really have enough time to go home before the party and I couldn't think of anything to entertain myself with otherwise, I headed up to Harlem about an hour early. I took the train up to 125th Street, found Dinosaur, ordered a beer and sat outside drinking, reading some Harry Potter and watching the douche bags stuck in traffic out on the Henry Hudson (why people drive at rush hour on Friday is beyond me). It was great. Relaxing, entertaining and away from people. If the Mother Nature were to keep things warm for awhile, I would seriously think of doing this every Friday.

Anyway, when the party people arrived, it was time to eat. And eat I did. First the table shared some wings and fried green tomatoes. Off to a good start. Then, for myself I got one of their combo plates. This plate had a lot on it: 1/4 Chicken (leg & thigh), 1/4 Rack of Ribs, Texas Beef Brisket (sliced), 1/4 lb. of peel & eat shrimp, corn bread and two sides (mac & cheese and salt potatoes).

Holy Shit! So good.

I ate all of it. Plate clean! All that meat along with several beers and a shot of Jagermeister ... my stomach was bloated and happy. So good.

If anyone wants to do a field trip, let me know. I am all about a repeat performance.

Out With Questions

On my way home tonight as I walked through the mess that is Union Square I hear some guy say to a woman, "Excuse me miss. Could I ask you a question?"

I thought to myself, Whenever anyone does that "could I ask you a question" shit you know something annoying is coming. Asking for money or asking for sex or asking for something that will lead to one of those things in one form or another. If someone just has a question about say directions or a request for matches, it's just "Excuse me miss [insert harmless and innocent question here]" with none of that "could I ask you a question" follow-up.

Anywho, as I was thinking all this, the woman responds (apparently thinking as I was). She says, "It's seems to me you already are asking me a question."

The guy is clearly thrown off a bit and just says, "What?"

And she says, "'Could I ask you a question?' is a question. Do you see the problem?"

Pretty snotty, but pretty much on target if you ask me.

I was out of earshot before I found out how things went from there, but I'm guessing it didn't go the way the guy had originally planned.

Wait Until You Leave The Train

Two things I witnessed on the subway today (by two separate people at two separate times) that fall into the category of "not appropriate activities to do in public" and especially fall into the category of "not appropriate activities to do in public when in a fairly restricted space":

1. flossing teeth
2. cutting toenails

Pretty nasty.

Cluck, cluck

Oh, little man ... you are in a lot of trouble. It's a giant chicken. Don't just sit there. Run! Run like you have never run before!!

Peace Sells

I know we're not voting for President this year, but on this eve of Election Day perhaps it' s a good time to start thinking about your options.

This quote from an interview in the Sydney Morning Herald by Dave Mustaine of Megadeth pretty much has me sold on my 2008 candidate of choice:

"I'd be a really cool president (of the U.S.A.), I guarantee you, man. We'd have a party for a few days and then American sentiment in the world would go up.

"I'd say, 'We're taking back our soldiers from Germany, Korea, the Philippines and the Middle East. You guys fight your own f—ing battles. And by the way, if you're in the United States right now and you're illegal you've got a 90-day grace period. Get out.' Teachers would get paid a lot of money, so would cops. Politicians would get shit."

Get out your write-in voting pencils! This country (and maybe even the world) is as good as fixed.

Sporting Weekend

The latter half of last week I spent out on Long Island for some conferences and learnin' courtesy of work. Three days dealing with my geographical arch enemy -- Long Island. Exhausting.

Having survived my fight to survive out on Long Island, upon my return to NYC on Friday evening it was no rest for the wicked. I dumped my crap off at home and headed up to Hunter College for some Gotham Girls Roller Derby. This time was Manhattan Mayhem vs. Brooklyn Bombshells. My borough reps, the Mayhem eeked out a victory by one point launching their bruised asses into the finals. Here's a taste of the action: That's trouble in the works there on the right.

Post victory, it was down for more action. This time of the bowling variety. No photos (because they came out like shit as bowling photos so often do). But trust me. There was bowling. And drinking.

Saturday, admittedly was a bit of a negative as far as sports go, unless you count lying on the couch, watching college football and eating some sushi.

Sunday I got back on it with a viewing of the ING New York City Marathon. I know viewing isn't half as impressive as participating, but shit, it's still something right? Plus, it makes for some decent photo ops (this would especially be the case if I had any photography talent). Anyway, let's move on.

First group is the wheel chair division. These fuckers fly.

Here's eventual winner Jelena Prokopcuka (in the orange shorts) kicking everyone's ass.

Here is the guy everyone was excited to see ... Lance Armstrong (in the dark green). Even the locals up on 1st Avenue and 103rd Street, know who Lance Armstrong is.

"You Are Freakin' Hot" This is my second favorite fan sign. I was unable to confirm if the sign was made for a certain runner, all the runners or just me, but either way, it's better than "Run. Bubba. Run." which I saw someone else holding up.

And this one is my favorite sign of the day. It's what everyone is thinking, this guy just had the balls and the artistic talent to make it happen. Kudos.

The end.

Oh, and I also watched the Steelers crap it up yet again. Super Bowl champs, my ass.

Happy Halloween!

Finally, Seats in the 100 Section

Today I selected for myself two season ticket seats at MSG for The New York Titans. My first season tickets for anything, so that is sort of exciting. I know it's not Rangers or Knicks season tickets, but it's a start. And to be perfectly honest, I'd prefer tickets to lacrosse over those two shit storms.

There are just four games at the MSG home and the first home game is in January, so if you have any desire share in my purchase, I suggest you be nice to me starting now.

Hombre Loco Del Pollo

Back in the days when my office was located in New York City instead of Jersey City I did a good share of lunching at a place we like to call "Chicken Man" but was really just one of the many halal food carts scattered around my office and the rest of the city. $4 for lamb or chicken (or a combo if feeling crazy) with rice and salad. You can't beat that. Sure there is the chance that you may find a chunk of metal in your food or perhaps shit your pants before you are even through with your meal, but it's still worth it.

Anyway, it seems as though my first choice Chicken Man was the scene of a disagreement that didn't end so well: http://www.nydailynews.com/front/story/466625p-392516c.html

I'm guessing that this is the sort of food purchase transaction Allah would approve of.

Bonds of Habit

Dear Mr. Steinbrenner,

I know you love to sign guys that will probably wind up in the Hall of Fame, put asses in Yankee stadium seats and and make headlines. It might be beyond love with you and possibly more of an addiction in your case. Anyway, no matter what you call it, do me a favor and don't sign Barry Bonds if he becomes up for grabs.

I know you are probably thinking about it this very minute. Maybe taking a shit or watching Seinfeld and just thinking about Bonds hitting balls over Monument Park. Despite his age, cost, drama and alleged bad habits, you're thinking about it. But please, please listen to me here. Bonds is the last thing NY needs.

Thanks,
WJR

Big Enough To Saddle

I was going through my old e-mails today and found this exchange between two ladies I work with:

Hello K. and M.,

I realize that there are already roach traps in the ladies bathroom on the 8th floor. However, a few other females I have spoken with have been seeing the bugs often and there have been multiple roaches in there every day for the last week. The roaches are huge and I am really apprehensive about using the bathroom at all. I was just wondering if there is any further action that can be taken to help stop the roach problem. Thanks alot, and have a great day.

M.L.

response:

Hi M.L.,

They're actually waterbugs and yes I know some are big enough to saddle and ride. I'll speak with the Exterminator about changing the treatment to something stronger. Perhaps they're becoming "immune" to the current pesticide.

K.

I haven't witnessed anything of the sort in the men's room yet, but I think I will buy some spurs and perhaps some sort of firearm just in case.

If It's Good Enough for Magnum It's Good Enough For Me

So, the Yankees are out. The Mets are out. I feel like I have to take sides in the World Series, so I'll be trying my best to be like Magnum.


Go Tigers!

Magnum or no Magnum, the Cardinals are corny as hell.

Save The Children

ATTN Children:

The following acts are no longer permitted during recess: running, jumping, pushing, yelling, hopscotch, swinging, climbing, throwing, skipping, ball playing, getting near others and most importantly, NO having fun and NO taking risks!

Thank you.

Man, I fear for the society of fat, socially retarded pussies the kids of today are going to become. Seriously.

Oh, and a note to Celeste D'Elia: "Near collisions" ... the kids are on foot, not in airplanes. Collisions of little humans under four feet in height aren't often fatal. Maybe you should wrap your kid in bubble wrap, strap a helmet on him and keep him indoors so he never gets any boo-boos.

BARF!

Not it! Mass. Elementary School Bans Tag

ATTLEBORO, Mass. - Tag, you're out! Officials at an elementary school south of Boston have banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable.

Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban.

While there is no districtwide ban on contact sports during recess, local rules have been cropping up. Several school administrators around Attleboro, a city of about 45,000 residents, took aim at dodgeball a few years ago, saying it was exclusionary and dangerous.

Elementary schools in Cheyenne, Wyo., and Spokane, Wash., also recently banned tag during recess. A suburban Charleston, S.C., school outlawed all unsupervised contact sports.

"I think that it's unfortunate that kids' lives are micromanaged and there are social skills they'll never develop on their own," said Debbie Laferriere, who has two children at Willett, about 40 miles south of Boston. "Playing tag is just part of being a kid."

Another Willett parent, Celeste D'Elia, said her son feels safer because of the rule. "I've witnessed enough near collisions," she said.

Take That, Chuck

Call me immature if you will, but this shit kills me:

Food Ideas Without The Headache

I hate to get all supportive of a Martha Stewart endeavor, but I caught a little of Everyday Food tonight. Pretty good.

Quick, easy meals. Like Rachael Ray's 30 Minute Meals only faster and less annoying.

More Room In The Talk Machine

So, I got my wisdom teeth out on Friday. Four teeth out all at once. After everyone telling me all their wisdom teeth horror stories I was expecting the worst, but it never really got to that level. My face was swollen, and I was bloody and sore, but really no legitimate pain. I didn't even take any of my vicodin.

This surgery was my first endeavor into the world of anesthesia. I've never been out cold before other than booze-related out cold. It was pretty cool. One second you are talking to the surgeon about whatever bullshit you talk to a surgeon about and the next second (40 minutes later) you are missing four teeth and are heading out to pay.

I had full intention of requesting my teeth so I could bring them home and get some loot from the Tooth Fairy or at the very least make some cool wisdom tooth earrings or a necklace. During all the filling out of forms, meeting surgeon helpers and answering questions, I totally forgot. Part way through the surgery I remember saying to save my teeth. I still am not sure if I made any sense to anyone other than myself, but I did hear the surgeon tell one of his assistants to give me another shot of sleepy. At the time I didn't even realize I had been out. I thought the whole thing had just started. Hindsight filled me in on my incorrectness. So, to the people working on my mouth, they had a guy quiet and sleepy for what I am guessing to be at least 15 minutes and all of a sudden I this guy is saying, "Make sure you save those for me." If they could understand me, it must have been pretty funny.

Another odd thing I remember from my time in dopey land was music. The music had started before any drugs had been administered. The surgeon told me pre-surgery, "We'll try not to rock out too hard" and I told him I was fully capable of handling whatever rock he sent my way. He had the band Mest on (I had to ask who it was), which was certainly within my rockin' tolerance. The odd part of all this was when I was "out" I specifically remember the line, "Well I'd be better off dead than lying here alone" which isn't the most surgery friendly thing to hear. It also goes "I cut you deep, I stitched you up ... ". Fucking odd. It turns out to be the song "Cursed" which doesn't seem to be about oral surgery, but it could have fooled me at the time.

All in all, it was a job well done. I'm slightly afraid of the final bill, but the surgeon seemed pretty excellent, and I'm more than willing to be a little broke rather than mangled and pained. If anyone needs some mouth fixin' you can let me know and I'll give you my surgeon's info.

A Week In One Post

It's unfortunate that I haven't been blogging lately as I have actually had shit to talk about for once. Well, I'm back now so I'll give you a brief overview so you don't feel lost.

Late last week I got some job news. My company has restructuring plans in motion which involves consolidating all the current U.S. bureaus down to just two. Two bureaus. Two cities. Chicago and Dallas? No. New York and Los Angeles? No. It's going to be Cleveland and Albuquerque. Yup, Cleveland and Albuquerque. As I don't have any big desire to move to either place, I'll be officially out on my ass on April 1, 2007 (if not before). I'm sure there will be much more about this to come.

Monday, my good high school friend, visiting from Massachusetts, came over with his wife and kids for some dinner. I made a pretty kick ass chicken. Whole. Roasted. Garlicky. Delicious. I also got to see my friend's youngest barf on him at least three times. That never gets old. Good times.

Tuesday, I went to the Nokia Theatre to see Trivium. They rocked pretty hard. I felt slightly older than I like to feel, but also slightly more metal than I have in awhile. Here's a video that someone was nice enough to make available for me (and you):


Wednesday, I went to Webster Hall to see Basement Jaxx (yes, that's back-to-back concerts). They were fucking great. I'd say one of the top 10 shows I have ever seen. Maybe even top 5. I didn't feel old at this show, but I did feel very American as I seemed to be in a room filled with Brits. Dancing, drunken Brits. Something you may want to remember just in case it comes up: the opening band called The Double ... how do I put this politely? They sucked. If I had brought a dog to the show it would have howled in agony the whole set. Avoid them. So, Basement Jaxx = thumbs up, The Double = thumbs down. Nobody has been nice enough to post a video of this show yet. In the meantime, here's a Basement Jaxx video. It involves primates, so you know it's good:

*Update* A concert clip has been added. It's a montage, so try to keep up:


Tomorrow is the 13th. Friday the 13th. I'll be heading to an oral surgeon I have never met, lie in a chair, let him fill me with a drug that will render me "out" and dig four teeth out my face. It should be Friday fun at its best (although probably still better than work). Then it is drugs, ice packs, and X-Men movie marathon and liquidy food intake.

I'll report back when (and if) my brain and face recovers.

Lend a Hand For Once

I'm sure you started the year with some sort of resolution to get in shape or curse less or be nicer or volunteer at an orphanage or something equally unachievable.

We're now halfway through October and God knows you haven't accomplished any of those resolutions. As a matter of fact, you probably haven't done much of anything for yourself or anyone else. Now is the time. Here's your chance. My pal Kelly is going to be marathoning her ass around Walt Disney World in the Walt Disney World Marathon soon enough and she's raising money for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society while she goes.

Help Kelly get to her fund raising goal. Help blood cancer research. Help your own feeling of personal satisfaction and karma! Donate here: click

Go ahead, you'll feel good.

Thanks ET

Last night the news was (of course) filled with Cory Lidle and his plane crash. A bit later in the evening I flip by and pause briefly at Entertainment Tonight. They make a quick mention of the tragedy, but then say something along the lines of: "More on this tragedy and the baseball star involved later, but first a 'Dancing With The Stars' update."

Ah, priorities.

As the Bloodhound Gang likes to say ...

... Hooray for Boobies:

Forget Airbags, Silicone Breasts Will Do
SOFIA (AFP) - A woman in the northern Bulgarian town of Ruse survived a car crash thanks to her silicone breasts which acted as an airbag, a newspaper has reported.

The 24-year-old ran through a red light and crashed her car into another vehicle at a busy crossroad in the middle of town Saturday, the daily Standart said.

"The two cars were crumpled past recognition in the crash but the woman's silicone breasts acted as airbags and saved her life," Standart wrote, citing eyewitness reports.

But survival as well as beauty comes at a price as the woman burst her silicon implants in the crash.

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Note to auto makers: Dashboards, walls, steering wheels? Make 'em out of silicon.