Privacy or No?

Hey Britney! Hi. How's it going?

I remember back in March when you said in an interview, "In the future, I will refrain from discussing my private life in interviews." That was funny. Then just a couple of weeks ago (June 15) when you were shooting the shit with Matt Lauer you said that you wanted the paparazzi to leave you alone and that you needed "privacy" and "respect." Sure. Makes sense. You are entitled to those human rights I suppose.

Well, I'm not judging you. You can do as you wish, but just to let you know, this sort of magazine cover stunt doesn't exactly take the spotlight off you or inspire the paparazzi to get bored of you.

I swear. It's true.

Flat Bride

I was going to post this photo anyway, but after getting a negative comment on a photo that has had me laughing for days, I knew that I had to post it in an attempt to redeem myself. My thinking here is that perhaps if scat-based humor isn't going to work, perhaps some bride trampling will.

These ladies are participating last week in a promotion goin' down in Times Square for WE tv's, Bridezillas. They are negotiating a frosting filled, wedding themed obstacle course to win $25,000 towards their upcoming nuptials. Funny enough right there if you ask me, but take a closer look at the photo. Click on it to make it bigger if you must. They all look nuts as can be, but the highlight is that there is definitely a trampled bridezilla down on the ground in the back. Not just down, but face first, limbs all over the place DOWN.

She's not winning shit. I just wish I was there to see it in person.

Drink With Those Who Do Not Judge

This past Friday evening, I had a work "outing" to attend. Work outings generally consist of some sort of brief meeting then an attempted game to build team camaraderie and then the thing that really seems to build team camaraderie -- boozing.

So, after about 6 hours of open bar, snacks and lots of talking about absolutely nothing, I head from Jersey City towards home. A former co-worker calls when I am about 20 steps from my door, telling me she is out just 10 short blocks away. I am certainly ready to call it a night, but am I smart enough to know this, or admit to this? Hells no! So, I stop in my apartment for a quick urination break and head back out again.

Saturday after I woke up and watched some SpongeBob I did a little recap of the night and quickly came to realize that I was pretty F'ing drunk by the end. I was able to IM my former co-worker about the latenight meet up, concerned that maybe I had been a disaster in front of her friends and boyfriend (all of whom I had never met before). The answer reveals that I hang out with the right people to keep me looking good ...

me: How retarded was I on Saturday night?
former co-worker: ha. I was so drunk I didn't even notice. I thought you were sober
me: Sweet.

I'm Taylor Hicks!

"I love shitting my pants in public. Check it out!"

Notable Quotable - Phil Style

I finally got to see the Pantera "Behind The Music" in its entirely the other day. My poor ass doesn't have cable, but one of my more upscale friends was nice enough to record it for me and I just finally got the VHS drop. It was a good one indeed. Sad for certain with the Dimebag shooting and all, but overall it was the kind of rock story that makes watching "Behind The Music" worth viewing -- rock, struggle, drugs, touring, boozing, breakdowns and death.

Phil, as is so often the case had some classic quotes, running the gambit of emotion and mental diagnosis:

Unbalanced?

"I guess not everybody that goes to a rock show or a heavy metal show is going there to get their nose broken, ya know a lot of people want to watch.

And I wouldn't allow it.

If I didn't get what I was demanding out of an audience I guess, I became furious."

Humble?

"Any free time I had I would start something that would turn into something awesome."

Confident?

"Don't underestimate the kid. You're fucking crazy if you do. And I AM the kid."

Peep the Pix

So, here are some selected photos from the Honduras escape. You can click on the photos for a larger view if you feel the need. I hope you like them, but even if you don't, I don't give a shit. Kidding. Of course I care about all of my readers and what they think. Always.

Let's go ...

This first photo is stop number one on the trip. The town is Copan Ruinas and the place is Casa de Cafe Bed & Breakfast (highly recommended). We had a nice little room with a nice little hammock just out the door that I made good use of.


Here's what I do best on vacation. This was about 5 minutes after we checked in. You can't beat a comfortable hammock with a good view.


Take a good look at this one. This is my wife. She has many rules about not ever appearing or being mentioned on this blog. This was an approved posting although I have full confidence that this decision could be reversed at any moment. Anyway, here is a photo of my wife with some green parrots. This looks like tons of fun going on, but is actually moments before the birds start getting a little too friendly and a look of panic crept onto her face:


This is a little travel buddy aptly called Witch Duck (notice the hat and cape). Here Witch Duck is meeting a new friend, Copan Cow.


From the country, we move to the beach. More specifically, the island of Roatan. This shot is from happy hour at the aptly named Sundowner. So nice. So delicious. It's in Half Moon Bay, conveniently located right near the place I was staying.


The sun sets on Half Moon Bay.


Possibly my greatest nature photo ever. Well, the camera did most of the work, but shit ... those little hummingbirds are fast so I get some credit.


This is me feeding a very tame toucan. If I was getting a pet and had the choice between a dog and this bird I may very well choose the bird. It was great.


Witch Duck again! This time beach bound. Sunscreen my little friend. Sunscreen.


This guy loves his job. He'd come out everyday with a goofy smile on his face and just drive along, fluffing up the beach at West Bay. I have serious thoughts of becoming his apprentice.


So very hard to celebrate 6/6/06 with Dave Matthews Band playing at the restaurant downstairs. Fuckin' Dave Matthews! So un-metal.


Here are two geckos doing the nasty. You never see the Geico gecko do that. My wife tried to tell me that they might just be cuddling. No way. If there is one thing I know, it's reptile sex. These two were humping.


Another day winds down at Half Moon Bay:


Guard dogs on the roof? I don't know how they got their asses up there or how effective a guarding tactic this is, but they certainly liked to bark. See how toucans are better than dogs?


This photo is another of my wife. This photo is not authorized, but I think it is great, so I am including it.


The end.

Quotes From Vacation

Sure there were many, but these two were within the first few days and I think really show how the brain goes from worrying about stupid shit like work, bills and the world's demise to absolute nonsense with the quickness:

I don't know where this conversation even came from, but it is nice to know that Toole's love for The Price Is Right stays with us even on vacation. Just for the record, the Burbank Airport is named after Bob Hope:

Wife: Is LAX the only airport in Los Angeles?
Me: Well it's the main one, but there is Long Beach, that's where Jet Blue flies. Also, there is one in Burbank. I think it is called the Ronald Reagan or Bob Barker or something like that.
Wife: [silence].
Me: Wait that's not right. I know it is named for someone, but Ronald Reagan is in DC, and there is no way the airport is named after Bob Barker. He's not even dead yet.
Wife: Well if Mike Toole was in charge it would be.

As an intro here, I will just say, that at every meal up to this point, I had some sort of cheese. Every meal.

Wife: (with package of cookies extended my way) Have another cookie.
Me: I don't want one. All I'm doing is eating fucking cookies.
Wife: No you're not ... you're eating cream and cheese too.

Back

I'm back from my R&R. It was great. Honduras was the location -- hot, cheap, relaxing and full of all things non-home. I'll post some photos soon (actually, the Time Warner fix-it crew is supposed to be fixing my internet connection in a little bit, so it will probably happen after that).

I find one thing that vacation always insures is meeting or at least encountering people from all over this crazy planet. That's great. It's always refreshing to meet other people in the same vacation state of mind you are. We met some interesting folks from Ireland, Canada, New Jersey and elsewhere. However, vacation or not, people are annoying more often than not, so I tend to get quite a nice list to hate. Vacation hating isn't really hate. It's just my special way of saying, "That guy/gal certainly is annoying." Sure, it isn't fair to judge an entire group on the actions of one, but I really don't mean it like that. I wouldn't judge a whole group on one person, but shit, I like to curse and a little internal, personal humor is fun. Plus, I hate more than just people. Here's my list (that still comes to mind) from my 16 days away from home: Fucking French. Fucking Texans. Fucking departure tax. Fucking Spaniards. Fucking Mario. Fucking security. Fucking Canadians. Fucking dogs. Fucking Italians. Fucking Bostonians. Fucking Southerners. Fucking locals. Fucking Flight 93. Fucking hippies. Fucking Israelis. Fucking birds. Fucking Fidel. Fucking sunburn. Fucking roosters (it's not even light out yet!). Fucking Brits. Fucking AnneSophie. Fucking New Yorkers (ya can't get away from 'em). Fucking lack of smoking ban. Fucking Argentineans. Fucking pork rinds. Fucking missionaries. Fucking Germans. Fucking Russian planes. Fucking etcetera.

Escaping The Grind

Not that you would really notice anyway, thanks to the lack of posting 'round these parts as of late, but yours truly is going to be not posting for a little bit thanks to some vacation. I'll be gone for a bit, but upon my return, I will return with photos and magical tales of land, sea and air adventure.

Culture Upgrade?

This past weekend I got myself a little cultured for once. I went to a Broadway show. Fancy, no?

I saw Avenue Q. It was the 2004 Tony Awards winner for Best Musical. Fancy.

In actuality, despite the musical aspect of it, I'm not sure it falls into the culture category. It has puppets in it which is sort of the lower end of the culture spectrum to begin with and these puppets curse, drink and have sex. It's certainly no Les Miserables in the eyes of most.

Nevertheless, I'm putting that down as culture.

Peep-N-Sheep

On the way home from work today, stopped in Ricky's for some hair dye (just in case). The woman in front of me in line is buying the following:

(1) 4 piece Little Bo Peep costume - something like this.
(1) box of 12 Trojan Twisted Pleasure condoms.

Total cost $84 and some change.

I have the feeling that sheep is in for the night of his life.

Chalkboard Grades: Art = A; Spelling = F

Long time no post ...

Well, here is something I saw on my way to Jeremy's Ale House last night that motivated me to get back on the blogging wagon:

Customer Service and Motherly Advice

I just got off the phone with one of my credit card companies. I had a question about my account. Things went smoothly and wrapped up nice and quick, just the way I like phone calls. The end of the conversation went a little beyond the usual financial talk:

Credit Card Lady: Is there anything else I can do for you today?
Me: Nope. I think that will do it.
CC Lady: OK, well happy Mother's Day.
Me: Oh, thanks. [pause] You too.
CC Lady: Thank you. Now go call your mother.
[Click]

The Wit of The Stadium

Last night, I went to one of the worst baseball games I have ever seen. Definitely the worst I have ever seen in person, and this includes T-Ball. The game was Yankees vs. the hated Red Sox. For the Yankees, it was a fiasco of horrible pitching, shitty fielding and a lack of hitting. Awful.

Despite this shit storm on the field, and the annoying fucks from Boston around me, it was fun. Plus I had a couple of overpriced beers and a hot dog, so that makes the night better than average. Here are three things I overheard that gave me a laugh.

Outside the stadium before the game, by the big bat (where everyone loves to meet their friends -- including me) a woman walks by. On the way into a stadium that is slowly filling with 54,000+ people. She says, "Why is it so crowded?"

Next, was some guy behind me who had the genius to switch the nickname of David Ortiz a bit for his own enjoyment. Instead of Big Papi, this guy was yelling, "Ortiz! Big Poopy! Big Poopy!"

My favorite, was later in the game. I was in the bathroom making room for more beer. Some guy comes in, waiting his turn. He gets his best Boston accent going, "I'm from Baaston. Where'd I paark my caaa. I'm from Baaston. Where'd I paark my caaa." A couple of chuckles. Then, "Guys from Baaston have wicked small penises. Wicked small."

The Trick

I've been listening to Cheap Trick The Greatest Hits. I can't, for the life of me figure out why they aren't in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They certainly can hold their own against some of the other clowns already in there.

Even if you don't necessarily feel the same way I do, don't you think a band that includes a five neck guitar and an awesome display of facial hair like this deserves some recognition?

That is rock and roll my friends.

Insane in the MemBlaine

Last night I shot up to Lincoln Center to get a peep of David Blaine floating around in his watery, crystal ball. As all things that are free and slightly freakshowish, it attracted quite a mob of idiots. Blaine wasn't doing much of anything when I was there. Apparently he was getting his nasty, rotting hands treated, so he was just up by the top of the tank with his hands outside. I wanted to see something happen, maybe some swimming, or waving or whatever one does in a water-filled ball, but I'm not one to devote a lot of time to a waterlogged guy with rotting hands who may or not live past Monday, so I didn't stay long.

Back when I used to work in NYC, I worked a late shift for awhile, so I was getting out at midnight. I used to rollerblade to and from work too, so when he pulled the frozen in ice stunt in Times Square I stopped by on my roll home for a little Blaine time and then when he did the standing on a big pole stunt in Bryant Park, I got to see him with practically nobody around. Just me on a chair and Blaine standing 100 feet up. That was cool. Anyway, it wasn't so cool this time with so many people around.


This lady was the highlight of my visit. People could walk up and touch the ball or take photos or whatever, but there were security guys around doing a lot of "Keep moving folks" and "Take your pictures but the line needs to keep going." Well, this woman was having none of it. She was there to show good ol' D.B. her love for his soggy body with roses. Blaine wasn't really looking due to his body position and the fact that his hands are about to fall off. Although security kept telling her to move on, she held her ground. Eventually Blaine saw her (I think), however he couldn't really signal his thanks or return any sign of love because his hands were busy and he has an air regulator crammed in his mouth. Nevertheless, she left looking somewhat accomplished. I bet Blaine can't wait to get out of there and spend some quality time with his new girlfriend who is at least 20 years older than him. HOT! I guess that is some added incentive to survive holding your breath for nine minutes.

That is beyond my comprehension by the way. Nine minutes! That's some sick shit.

3 For Me

I was starting to sweat my promise to have something to blog about for a little bit, but these three ladies sharing my return ride on the PATH from work saved me: I'm generally not a big gawker on the train, but these three had me hooked from the moment I got on. The two adults were all over the little one in the middle. Doing something with her left ear. I don't know if there was something in there or if it was some sort of science project, but there was a lot of digging and poking with no results other than a dirty tissue and a lot of face making.

I then noticed that the girl's shirt said, I'M GOOD. ASK YOUR BOYFRIEND. In my opinion she was a tad on the young side for such an announcement of skankiness, but what do I know? Not much, but at least I know she is GOOD.

The next scene entailed the lady on the left putting bracelets on the young girl's arm I guess so she could look fancy for the big trip to NYC. She proceeded to push the first one up past her elbow, because "That's how I used to wear them when I was young." Well, apparently they had different arms back then because the bracelet lodged itself on her upper arm pudge and wouldn't come back down. There was panic in the girl's eyes when she realized that it was stuck. That look was still on her face when I got off at 14th Street, while the girl and the two ladies struggled with the stuck bracelet. I was briefly tempted to stay and watch the drama continue, but I was concerned they might ask me to get involved.

I've Got Nothing

I know I promised a couple of you T.L.B. fans some sort of update. I'm still having some sort of blockage of ideas, but I will certainly whip something up by tomorrow morning. I'm going to make something worth complaining about happen in the next 12 hours if it's the last thing I do. In the meantime, here is a tennis photo for you that will hopefully hold you over until then:

I Am What I Am

And I quote: "... the guy offering the tip doesn't seem to be any sort of food expert or anything. He's just some dude who had a hangover on Sunday and decided to blog away."

Yeah, no shit. I am still more than qualified to critique the great "expert" Rachael Ray.

It Always Goes Back To The Basics

A friend of mine is having a 30th birthday party this summer. My friend AP (the one whose knee I may or may not have destroyed) e-mailed me last week to see if I was planning on going and what the date was. This of course, got off the subject in a hurry:

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 2:30
When was WD planning a party for TD? What's the date?

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 2:35 PM
I think it is in July, but I am going to have to check my calendar when I get home.

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 2:37 PM
Boo-ya! I found it. [date inserted here, 2006]

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 3:42 PM
do you plan on heading up for this?

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 3:43 PM
I do. I am going to act like I am 20 all over again (and possibly kick Tom's cat a couple of times too).

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 3:47 PM
Will you take a wiz out the third floor window?

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 3:49 PM
I will if instigated. I am also hoping to sleep in the backyard.

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 3:54 PM
If instigated? I don't remember a 20 year old WJR needing much pushing or incentive to piss out the window. As a matter of fact, you did it with glee and reckless abandon with childlike wonderment.

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 4:00 PM
You are correct. Consider it done. Nothing beats high elevation urination. I was just thinking about how if I were one of the people that got stuck in that Roosevelt Island tram the other night I would have been pissing out the window as often as possible. Urine at 250 feet has gotta be good.

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 4:06 PM
I was thinking the same thing as I was watching the live coverage that night. I admit that I wouldn't have been watching it had anything of interest been on. But, I stopped on Channel 7 with a live shot from their chopper. I wondered aloud what a piss stream would look like from that angle and if they'd dump right into a commercial.

I was waiting for some big fat welfare mom to stick her gigantic tukus out the window to take a dump. No such luck.

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 4:14 PM
Did nobody bring up the bathroom situation? I heard someone mention that a little kid peed in a cup, but that was it. I have days where if I were delayed in my commute I would probably pee and/or shit my pants. There had to be someone like me on there.

From: AP
To: WJR
Time: 5:06 PM
I don't think anybody is as focused on bodily functions as we are.

I was flying home from someplace a couple of weeks ago when I got up to pee about three times in one hour because I had two pints in the bar before boarding. At my last visit, I heard an elderly woman say to her flying-mate, "I don't know, maybe he goes to the bathroom so much to snort drugs." I told her to mind her own fucking business or I'd flush her head down the vacuum toilet. Well, I didn't really say that. I just thought it would be cool if I did.

From: WJR
To: AP
Time: 5:20 PM
I wish you had said that. Or offered her some drugs. Or offered a ticket to the mile-high club.

Old bitch.