Nope. No Yeti.

A Visit to D.C. - Part 1

2011-04-13T11:25:00.001-04:00

Today is Thomas Jefferson’s birthday had he been unlucky enough to live to be a raisoned 268 years old. His raison d'être was reason and his horse riding was renowned, or so I’m told. On a recent jaunt to D.C., we even visited the T.J. Memorial (we call him T.J. for short for Thomas Jerry). Now the TJJ Memorial (the second J is for Jefferson) is known for a lot of reasons, the second most controversial being the climatic conclusion of the video game Fallout 3. From my personal experience I knew first-hand that the lower level of the memorial had bathrooms. In real life, the bathrooms are much cleaner than the post apocalyptic version I was more familiar with and with far fewer roaches. If you’ve ever go to D.C. and stroll around the Tidal Basin, I’d rate the Jefferson bathrooms #1 of all Tidal Basin Memorial Bathrooms. They are much better than the FDR Memorial bathrooms a couple hundred yards away. However, if you’re in a pinch or need to take one, the FDR will do just fine. Still, the TJJ bathrooms are worth a visit on any D.C. itinerary.

Other notable bathrooms visited in D.C.:

Capital Building – I remember using them, but I don’t remember the experience. Unmemorable. B+

Kennedy Center (Opera) – they are not located on every level, so watch out!

Dupont Hotel, Room 612 – very nice, but the door separating the toilet from the bedroom is frosted glass and is not very acoustic. Turn on the shower for additional privacy.

One of these things isn't like they others...

2005-06-11T18:33:00.000-04:00

Here’s a picture from a show I went to two weeks ago (taken by mfr). Notice anything awesome about it? It hasn’t been altered either.

Zoo Bulters and Oranges

2005-05-19T14:35:00.000-04:00

Today’s word of the day (sanctioned by Dictionary.com) is menagerie. This isn’t a difficult word. If it came up on my SAT six years ago, I would have been very happy. Of course they would have used like: menagerie is to woeful as limerick is to (satirical, dictatorial, supernal, yellow).

Anyway, I particularly like the sentence in which the site uses the word:
“Once, when he was too ill even to visit the zoo, Gerald was provided with a sort of substitute zoo of his own by the family butler, Jomen, who modeled a whole menagerie of animals [from clay]…” --Douglas Botting

Poor Gerald. He was so ill “once” he couldn’t even go to the zoo, the number one place I miss whenever I am sick, like today. “Sorry boss, I can’t go into work today. Hell I’m so sick, I can’t even go to the zoo!”

But hey, I have a “sort of substitute” of the zoo, if I can only command my servant to make one for me out of clay, because as you know, I am too sick to even play with clay. “How many have you made Jomen? Ten? That’s no damn menagerie. Keep going.”

Menagerie rhymes with orangerie, which is like a zoo for orange trees. And wherever there are zoos of orange trees, it smells like oranges. Florida is an orangerie. So why doesn’t “old people smell” smell more like oranges. It definitely does not.

You could also almost rhyme menagerie with la-aund-er-y. but I’ll have my zoo-butler take care of that.

This is (experts only) Jeopardy!

2005-05-16T14:59:00.000-04:00

If you’ve been unaware, and I doubt you have, then you haven’t noticed that Jeopardy has been in its Tournament of Champions “play-off”. TV Execs at CBS are trying to compete with the NBA finals on ABC. I haven’t paid attention to the Neilson ratings, so I cannot report which station is winning. In a sort-of related note, this fall the BBC will be airing all WWE events, I am told.

Although I follow neither Jeopardy nor the NBA, since neither seems to impress ‘the ladies’, I have watched a bit of the former due to the urban phenomena called “a roommate.” “A roommate” is often a misnomer since roommates often do not share a room. In fact I have yet to even mate with any of my roommates.

So, my roommate, we’ll call her “Sexy Maryanne”, has been watching the Jeopardy tournament when I've come home a few times. It’s one thing to watch normal Jeopardy and be able to play along (and half the time be right), and another to watch people who’ve already won Jeopardy answer the most esoteric questions ever conceived by a Trebbek. 'Fuck! What's the average rainfall in July in Ulaanbaatar, the capital of Mongolia?!"

How come Price is Right doesn’t have a Tournament of Champions? I rock at that.

And the babes are always impressed.

(Ans: 72.6 inches.)

How much do YOU love Kelly Clarkson?

2005-05-12T14:24:00.000-04:00

Not as much as these Kidz Bop kids.
Thanks to Stereogum, this video has been floating around the internet today... so I thought I'd "Float On" too!
If you are hesitating to watch it. Click here for a (non-porno, I swear)screen shot.

Watch movie here. Definitely worth it. I promise a backing band of a walrus, a tiger, and an alligator. (walrus on drums).

Or Download the excellent Ted Leo mp3 version here.

We all love Kelly Clarkson.

A study aid for Trivial Pursuit:

2005-05-10T15:54:00.000-04:00

Click here for some trivia. Keep reloading for more trivia! (Not my page, dummy, the link).

Supercuts aren't all that Super. But they ARE cheap.

2005-05-09T09:04:00.000-04:00

For those of you that do no have access to my web cam (link not suitable for work), or haven't watched Entertainment Tonight ever since John Tesh died, you may not have noticed I had a haircut.

So fucking what, Jer? That's not news to blog about. Well, when you are like me, lazy and apathetic, then this only happens a handful times a year, just like the Victoria Secret's Semi Annual Sale (always suitable for work). To be honest, my haircuts come about four times a year, indepedent of the fiscal earning reports of any corporation, I swear.

My most recent haircut went like this:
"How much do you want cut off?"
I panic. I know I'm an "architect" but when it comes to dimensions of follicles, I'm clueless. General Contractors barely follow feet and inches, let alone anything less. In addition, an inch of hair means nothing when you are a guy. I might as well say a foot. Luckily the hairdresser gives me an option. "Is this ok?"

I say yes. Why? Because she's a professional. If anyone knows anything, she would. She starts cutting. A few minutes later, she pauses, and asks, "Are you sure you don't want it shorter?" At this point I really don't know. But I'm not about to disagree with my hairdresser. They have licenses. Supercuts doesn't just let anyone cut hair.

So, I say, yes. Cut more. Cut more of my beautiful locks and sprinkle it at my feet and under my shirt. Well, she must have viewed this second approval as free domain to cut at-will. Everytime she "evened" it out, my hair got shorter and shorter. I closed my eyes, and pretended not to notice.

When it was done, I didn't look at the final result even though I had to pretend. And when they show me the back, via the double mirror, I say "fine." Maybe I should be more enthusiastic if I'm happy. "Holy fuck I look good! You did that? WOW! Good job! Can I hug you?"
Except I'd probably be expected to tip more. If I appear just barely satisfied, which I was, I'm allowed to tip poorly. Just some free advice in case you are up for a trim soon.

Download my blog's theme song!

2005-05-06T16:42:00.000-04:00

Download here. (click the "free" button), them at the bottom of the page, after a 20 second wait, the link will appear.

A bazillion dollars if you can tell me where this is from. (You are illegligable if you've watched the show with me). And no Googlizing. or I'll eu-google-ize your funeral.

Cat Man, do!

2005-05-05T15:50:00.000-04:00

Every morning when I take a shower, my cat patiently waits for me on the toilet. My sister used to do the same damn thing growing up, but with her I’d have to wait until she left before stepping out of the tub (we had opaque shower curtains, you sicko). When I get out, he proceeds to meow until I pet him with my wet hands (yes, I’m only talking about my cat now). As a result, I end up with cat hair sticking all over my body. No, I do not like that. In addition, today I wore a black shirt. Cats and black shirts are magnetized to each other like very powerful super hydro magno electromagnets. Lucius, my demonic cat, can sleep anywhere he likes, yet he chose to sleep on my black clothes. It almost makes me think I shouldn’t keep them on the floor.

The other day, I figured he must be hungry and was just meowing to be fed. Being morning and my brain yet to wake up, I confused my verbs involved with food, and instead of saying, “I’m going to feed you” I said “I’m going to eat you.”

Opps. Of course I don’t actually mean it. It is what the scientologists* call a Freudian slip.

*Does anyone have the 2005 Calendar?

The Best Dreams are the Ones...

2005-05-03T09:15:00.000-04:00

Two nights ago I had a dream about Pope John Paul II. Last night, I had a dream about Pope John Paul II and Tom Brokaw. Which makes me wonder: who’s going to be added tonight? Sounds like the beginning of a joke, right?: So, I’m with the Pope, Tom Brokaw, and superstar Emilio Estevez…

Anyway, in my dream, the Pope is walking by and I want to get a picture. Being the 90s and all, we all have camera phones (and unending happiness), and so I try to take a picture. But, Goddarnit, I’m out of memory. Luckily news-anchor Tom calms me down and promises me he’ll send me a picture. Then he takes out his phone and says, “I still have you in my contacts right? Good.” (End of Dream)

What I like most about this dream is that it implies Tom and I are old friends. I wonder what kinds of things we would have done in the past, maybe calling each other from a bookstore on Friday night.

“Yo Tom, what are you up to? Going to Bagdad next week? That sucks. Wanna catch The Cutting Edge at Loews this weekend? Great. Call me.”

*crossing my fingers I don’t actually dream about Emilio Estevez*
PS. Don’t laugh that I dream about popes and news anchors. I also dream about sexy girls on beaches and “real hot XXX barely lgal frmer girls.”

Sacre Bleu!!!!!

2005-05-02T12:41:00.000-04:00

I love a friendly ATM. They are so polite. “How may I serve you?” they say. “Have a nice day” they say. Occassionally, I find the interface quite intriguing. Such was the case yesterday when I stopped by a Citibank ATM. As you all know, ATMs are like Popes: they speak many languages. Perhaps you have too have tried to use an ATM to brush up on your French. Unfortunately, just when you think you’ve used an ATM so many times that you can do it blindfolded, or bilingual, doubt creeps into your mind. One time while using Russian, of which I proudly don’t know a single word, I got an error message of some kind. This made me panic, until I realized I had attempted to take out $800. It wouldn’t let me. I guess I shouldn’t play around with my bank account so freely. (Advice: if you have a song to help you remember you PIN, like I do, don’t sing it out loud).

An ATM in Italy once told me in English, “Your receipt cannot be printed. Nevertheless this transaction has ended.” I was very impressed. They use “nevertheless” where we wouldn’t even THINK of it.

At a local ATM yesterday, the one at Citibank (I get $.05 every time I mention them), the ATM had several language options but were phrased, all in English, like this:
Press Here if you want to speak English
Press Here if you want to speak Spanish
Press Here if you want to speak French… on so on.

Needless to say, I pressed them all. But neither Spanish, nor French was intelligently uttered from my lips.

I stress, intelligently.

O how I despise...

2005-04-21T12:07:00.000-04:00

I can stand Damien Rice about as much as I can stand the Jingle Cats. At least the Jingle Cats make me laugh. Rice just makes me cringe.

The Jingle cats have a perfect 5-star rating at Amazon.com, although it ranks #124,550 in sales.

Damien Rice’s O has only 4.5 stars. Ha! ...But it ranks #40th. Why? Beats me. I’ve taken the liberty with the link to prioritize the lowest ranking reviews first.

Here are my favorite quotes from the reviews:
“I would give this zero stars if possible, it would be tremendously funny since then it would match the album title.”
“This guy makes me want to hurl.”
“To my ear the album is overwrought, pretentious, all but unlistenable - and on its way to the local second-hand goods store this afternoon.”
“I'm used to a certain level of talent in what I listen to. Damien Rice falls short of this level like a retard in graduate school.”
“He hits so many off-notes that it is painful to listen.”
“Damien Rice is the musical equivalent of the missionary position.”
“Don't want a thing like that to play in my house or car! It’s putrid!”
“I was on the ledge of a tall building with a rope around my neck until someone came in the room and turned off the CD player.”

If I missed any, please comment.

Today: Download a Song!

2005-04-21T10:20:00.000-04:00

Everyone, turn you volume way up and click here*. Can you guess what it is?

If you want more, let me know. I got more.

*Slightly Explicit

Hehehehe. 4-20. heheheheheheh

2005-04-20T16:48:00.001-04:00

From a reliable source that debunks the 4-20 myths:

“Whether or not 4:20 p.m. is the best time of day for your first hit depends on your own body, your own needs. Some folks feel that waiting until 4:20 enhances ones appreciation of the herb…”

Waiting? Until 4:20? It is that hard? On the otherhand, why wait until PM? There's a 4:20 in the morning too guys.

For truth though... today is a time to call all your Pothead friends and wish them a happy 4-20. That is, if you didn't get you cards in the mail in time.

*I do not condone nor condemn the use of marijuana.

10 reasons why the library sucks. Well... at least one.

2005-04-19T17:28:00.000-04:00

I hate the library, and I’ll tell you why. ‘Cause I’m illiterate? No. Because I get hit on by all the librarians? No. The reason is because they make you think you are borrowing books for free, but then they charge you. Not quite the bait and switch tactic, but it’s just as evil. You see, when I don’t return a book, I really don't return it for a long time… like a holding a hostage. Last week I was holding my tax-filing hostage. Newton called it inertia, and librarians count on it... count my fines that is.

This last book I got, I didn’t even read. That’s right. Maybe I am illiterate. (The c.. c… c… cah, cah cat. Cat!) 10 pages in 3 months. That’s 1/9th of a page every day. If I had continued at that rate, I would finish the book in 10 years. But not to deceive you, I in fact read all ten of those pages on the first day; so at the true pace I was reading… well needless to say I finally returned it.

Every time I go to the library to return a book, I have to take a subway ride. Why? Because a book taken out of a Manhattan library has to be returned to a library in Manhattan, Bronx, or Staten Island. Brooklyn and Queens have their own system. Why? Beats the fuck out of me. Actually though, when the pope divided Brazil between the Spanish and Portuguese, that longitudinal line he created extended to divide my library. It’s also the line that divides hope from desperation, and the dead from the living-dead.

Only if you REALLY love Uh-mer-uh-ca!

2005-04-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

OK. I know you’re thinking what I am thinking. It’s nearly April 14th. That only gives us 2 months to prepare for Flag Day. But, in all honesty, we can start celebrating around Memorial Day and continue the parades through until Independence Day. Therefore, we actually have less than 2 months to prepare. To get you fired up, here’s another video. But don’t get too fired up. I’m serious. This video might make you spontaneously combust, and then you’ll appear in clouds like the firemen.

This also takes a moment to load. You’ll wait, if you’re not a terrorist. If you don’t wait, you’re probably a freedom-hater. Freedom-hater rhymes with player-hater, but instead of hating players like me, they hate freedom. In fact, I am almost certain freedom-haters hate player-haters and vice-versa. I guess I’m a freedom-hater-hater. And if you hate me, then just tag another “hater” to the end of that. And if you hate me, chances are I hate you.

Warning: After seeing the video, you might have second thoughts on the benefits of freedom:

And to all of those who have seen this before, since it probably has been around for a while, I’m sorry.
And to all who are about to see it, I’m sorry.

Watch it here. (About 2 minutes long.)

Real Post coming soon.

2005-04-12T10:02:00.000-04:00

Ok ok. I'll have a real post soon. In the meantime, you can watch this, which was sent to me from Becca. It's long. When I say long, I mean closer to ten minutes than three, although I am not sure exactly. Definitely worth you time though:

How To Kill a Mockingbird
Watch the Flash Video here.
It will load automatically, I think. But it takes a while.

Mr. T, my childhood hero, loves his Mom.

2005-04-08T13:37:00.000-04:00

I love my mom too.
Check out this video. (Windows media player).
Since it's streaming video, if too many people are accessing it, it'll be jumpy. So try back later.

That's a lesson for all my younger readers.

And if you haven't checked out Hulk Hogan's mp3.. "The Hulkster in Heaven"... that link is to the right. Classics.

Thanks to stereogum for that gem.

Have a good weekend.

Breathless Aggression into Furious Swells!

2005-04-06T12:00:00.000-04:00

So, I thought Mason Jennings had only two albums. That’s because I only own two of his albums. Turns out he has five… meaning he has recorded five….not that he owns five. Which brings up the point: I wonder if he owns his own albums. If I was a rock star who had albums out (and I only qualify for the first half of that phrase), then I would definitely play them all the time. I’m sure Calla does this. Read their own bio on their website and tell me differently. I’ve read it five times and I still can’t understand what they are saying: “avant gestures to collapse into supple pop while catapulting their dark breathless aggression into furious swells of feedback.” Huh?

Read the whole thing here.

So at Mason’s show last night, during the 1 hour and 40 minute set he played, when I only recognized four songs, I swore he must have at least 12 albums out. When asking for a request, someone in the crowd shouted “Play everything you’ve ever written.” I’m not sure if Angela heard this, but she would have punched him. That’s how she gets when she stops drinking too early.

So yeah, my favorite line from Calla’s Bio:
“Unlike most of their contemporaries, Calla understand the way in which the dirtiness of rock intersects the world of high art.”

What the?

Bloc Party Cancelled? Nope.

2005-04-01T17:00:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh I love Craigslist. Today I "cancelled" the VERY MUCH anticipated Bloc Party concert on craigslist. In the posting, I put: "Happy April Fool's." But, apparently, several people did not see that and I've been getting emails from people saying they've been calling the venue. Or course the Mercury Lounge/Bowery Ballroom knows nothing about it. Alas, I deleted my post so that others wouldn't get mad. I'll spare the Merc from having to explain it to 20-30 more people calling tonight.
I love this Holiday.

Responses for Bandmemebers

2005-04-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

"I can't believe you EXIST! Where have you been all my life? Why is everyone so lame.You are like my new hero... - Cheesey Lane

I get this a lot. Yes, I do exist. Everyone is lame. And I am your new hero.

"I would like to hear your cellphone songs. May 8th 1981. Looking to make noise with my amp and my one pedal and my sg.
female
- Lani"

Female? I love how that's just thrown in there. I can't remember, did I post this in the personals section as well? Anyway, I bet she's hot. Definitely in the band.

"I think I fit the format of your band LOL !!
I play guitar (at least I think I play).
I might be able to bring something to you’re the Killerz" -Fabiano

LOL, eh? I'm serious man. But I like your dedication to the guitar and level confidence.

So that's it. Cheesey, Lani, Fabiano, and Yeti. The most haphazardly named band memebers ever. Two guitarists, a banjo-ist, and... a girl.

Now Appearing on Craigslist:

2005-03-30T16:11:00.000-05:00

So my last entry inspired me to post on craigslist.
See my ad here.

That's all for now.

ISO: Band Members for Mediocre Band

2005-03-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

An email just bounced back to me from someone named Mailer-Daemon. This is what he had to say:

Hi. This is the qmail-send program at smtp.webponents.com.
I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses. This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.

It’s pretty damn cordial for an automated message. He even says "Hi." Next time I’m on a bad date and I don’t want to see the girl again, I’ll use the line “This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.”

Maybe Mailer-Daemon will be my band name. That is, if I had a band… or talented friends. Or friends. We'd play Prince covers. Not that I listen to him or anything, but he also had trouble coming up with a band name. Keep posted because I'll have a new band next week.

Like a Hamster Wheel:

2005-03-28T13:00:00.000-05:00

I don’t think most people realize just how expensive a membership to a gym is. If they did, they certainly wouldn’t waste their money on it. Instead, I siphon my economic resources to filling my ears with sweet sweet music, and my stomach with sweet sweet sweet-corn. In fact, everytime I don’t go, (and I don’t go ever), I think of all the money I am saving. It’s like getting paid to do nothing. Not that I’m advocating physical unfitness. I just prefer running in the park. It’s a cheaper delusional alternative than lying to myself that I’ll go to the gym.

I can’t see how people can run on treadmills when they can run outside. On a treadmill, no matter how fast you run, the guy right next to you always keeps up. If you think I’m lying, try it yourself. When I run outside I can pass people. Not that I can, but if I could, I would. Inside, you’re stuck no matter how fast you are going and no matter how slow your neighbor is. The only satisfaction on the treadmill is being able to stay on the thing longer than the other guy. In Texas that’s called a rodeo.

Treadmills also tell you shit that you didn’t even want to know, or didn’t even know that you didn’t want to know, such as how few Calories you’ve burned. After a two-mile run, I’m like “Man I must’ve burned a million Calories…” but the stupid machine says its closer to 200. Running outside that never happens. Ever.

The other thing horrible about the treadmill, is the scenery. There is none. And again, if you don’t believe me, try it. Or, take my word for it and send me 20% of all the money you’ll be saving by not going to the gym.

Adjectives and Nouns

2005-03-24T11:18:00.000-05:00

Anyone else notice something weird about the new 2005 Chevy Cobalt, such as here. That’s right. It’s not just blue. Not even a hue of blue. It’s red. Who would be the idiot to buy a red Cobalt? I suppose you could get it in blue, or according to their website “Arrival Blue Metallic.”

Huh? Arrival? You see, I know my adjectives. Adjectives modify nouns or other adjectives. I know this because I’m a pro at Mad-libs… as pro as one can get. Metallic Blue, for example, is pretty clear. Blue Metallic is a little weird, but if you're European you can move the placement of adjectives around arbitrarily, and therefore it sounds exotic to Chevy owners. But Arrival Blue Metallic? I still don’t know what that means.

What’s your favorite color? Geez that’s hard. Hmphmm… I’d have to say… Arrival Blue. Yeah... probably Arrival Blue.

Speaking of Madlibs. Ever realize that’s how the Bible was written?
“And God made (noun) in (number) days, and then he rested. When (boy’s name) felt (feeling), God took one of his (body part-plural) and made (girl’s name). But she was (adverb) tempted by a (animal) and ate a/an (food) from the forbidden tree of (conceptual noun).”

Or even:
“Joseph, one of (large number) of Jacob’s sons, had a (adjective) (garment). It was (exotic color other than Arrival Blue) among many many others. His jealous brothers sold him into (19th century American Insitution which largely ended after the Civil War) and they took him to (country in Middle East where there are pyramids and sphinxes, and presumably, terrorists).

The Dead can Dance, and Indie Kids too!

2005-03-23T15:56:00.000-05:00

At the Thermals show last night Angela and I noticed something we see at a lot of shows, that is, in addition to lots of people. Despite popular belief, New York indie kids can in fact dance, or in the case of last night, dance defined as “thrusting one’s full body against walls of other bodies.” The exception, however, when you finally have a crowd that does unfold its arms, is a new song.

Play an old song and the kids will rock. Play a new song and they’ll stop, look at each other in bewilderment and say “What’s this? I haven’t practiced my moves to this. What do I do?” That’s right. That’s because Indie Rock requires hours and hours of practice to get the moves down. If a concert doesn’t have people dancing, it’s because the moves that the music requires are so complex few have mastered them. It took me years to learn the dance to Belle and Sebastian in my bedroom, and I still sometimes can’t pull it off.

And it looks like I won’t have to practice my moves for the Shins. :( That sold out faster than hell. Assuming hell has a measureable velocity.

Fun Activity for the Day

2005-03-22T15:40:00.000-05:00

I dont feel like posting for real today, so instead, this should keep you occupied, or even mollified if this were the SATs, which this definitely could be.

In Google Image Search, type in "Moving Van Bandit." The result should worry my friend Mike who is moving on Thursday. Uh oh Mike!

Hell, I'll do the work for you. Just click here.

St. Patty's Day Remembering

2005-03-21T12:16:00.000-05:00

I swore after Thursday night’s St. Patty’s Day Bonanza that I wouldn’t drink again for a long time. In this case, “a long time” is just long enough to sober up. As much as I love being drunk, waking up and going to work drunk isn’t as glamourous as it sounds. Although it’s better than a hangover, the hangover itself isn’t far behind… on Friday it hit right about 3PM.

My resolve to be dry lasted all day, thanks to the company policy of “No Drinking at Work.” Not that this rule is expressed specifically anywhere, but it’s definitely implicit that we are sober while we design. I think a beer could help our firm now and then. It’s not like architecture is as important as like, say… driving or… flying. In fact, all great architects drank, and this is by no means a generalization.

I can’t say the same for all great pilots. I was on a flight once and the landing was so rough that I was actually startled. And then the stewardess had the nerve to announce over the PA just how great a landing the pilot had done. I wanted to jump out of my seat, unbuckling and all, and demand that he take off and try again.

Speaking of stewardess (no they are not hot.) (not usually).: I love how in the demonstration at the beginning of the flight they show how the oxygen masks will pop down if there is an emergency. Then they instruct you to “pull on the tube and breath normally.” Yeah, sure. Normally.

Lil'Kim's Wardrobe

2005-03-18T11:08:00.000-05:00

“Asked outside court whether she had any comment, Lil' Kim, wearing a beige pantsuit and a pink jacket, shook her head and said no.”

This is why I love the news. The AP (I think it's shorthand for Apropos, and pterodactylly comes from French meaning “to the point.”) is usually a reliable source. However I came across this quote today while researching on Lil’Kim. It pertains to her recent conviction, and as it appears, her fashion. And we all know from Michael Jackson that the two are somehow linked.

Fortunately, in case we can’t read, they’ve also included a photograph, which is helpful. I hate reading. As the Zen saying goes, “A painting of rice cakes does not satisfy hunger.” Hell, real rice cakes don't satisfy hunger.

All of this underscores the point I’ve been enumerating all along. Somehow. Actually, I think I forgot the point I was making.

March Madness

2005-03-16T21:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve recently filled out my NAACP basketball bracket sheet. I think that stands for National Athletic Americans and College People. That’s right, come April 2nd, we’ll have the Final Four! and on April 4th we’ll be so knee deep in March Madness, it won’t even be March. Who will win? If you go here, you’ll see that there is a blank spot playing again #1 ranked North Carolina. I have them defeating everyone.

Ok, so I know as much about college basketball as I do about let’s say, the birds and the bees. Fine, fine. So I may know a little more about the birds and the bees, (and soccer?) but it still left me clueless on how to fill out this sheet. Luckily each team has a number next to them, telling me how they rank, and telling me how to think. Unluckily however, I know some lower ranked teams will win despite my foolproof method. Regardless I follow this mathematical formula to determine who will win every individual game: if x (being a whole number between 1 and 16) > y (also a whole number between 1 and 16) then x wins. This works until the Final Four when all four teams will be ranks number one, except for the 16-ranked blank slot. They’ll win it all. Just wait.

By the way, if you type in “Birds and Bees” into Google images, you won’t get anything good. However, type in “Sex” and whoa. Bingo.

More Sandra Bullock!

2005-03-15T15:56:00.000-05:00

If you hadn’t heard the news, Miss Congeniality 2, will be released on March 24. There’s been a lot of buzz on the net surrounding the premiere and exactly what has been a tightly guarded script. If you recall the first installment of the trilogy, MC1 did not conclude unresolved, and therefore a sequel was unpredictable; not the script itself, just the mere existence of one. In fact, in MC1, the suspenseful moments resulted in a successful denouement that left everyone glad (for you home-schoolers, denouement is French and rhymes with Mon! mon! mon! which is also French for Mine! Mine! Mine!).

We can expect this movie to be loaded with Sandra Bullock scenes, just like the last. Whether or not footage for another sequel was shot at once is still unknown, but Sandra is reportedly* in Tunisia shooting the sequel to While You Were Sleeping 2.

Also, if you want to watch the movie and don’t have $10 or two hours, you can watch the two and a half minute version of it here, as well as download all sorts of othre embarrassing stuff. Or just re-watch the first one. Then again, write to your local Congressman/woman.

*as reported here

Addendum to Spam

2005-03-14T10:52:00.000-05:00

Today I received an email from, I swear, a certain Cheese U. Obsessive, with the subject line: Re: Shy Petrervs Fucekd in Ass on farm. What I love about this, in addition to the farm theme that is developing, is the "Re:", as if I had written to Mr. Obsessive about the topic and he was simply replying.

All this spam inspires me. Just like having a blog helps me to vent my anger, I also want to pen some spam. How great would it to receive Viagra ads written by a friend instead of those face-less beings. I doubt Cheese U. Obsessive is really his maiden name anyway. So, next time you see a subject line with "Teen Farmrz like it ruff" from me don't delete it. Instead, reply, like Cheese did. Or at least RSVP.

Leave the Farmers Alone.

2005-03-12T21:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been receiving a lot of spam recently and noticed that spelling errors have grown tremendously. It’s become a game to decipher what is actually being said. Most recently I’ve received one with the subject line, “Real Farmrs gttng fckd by natur.” Now, I can see the porn-buying public demanding real virgins and real teens, but real farmers? Come on. On the otherhand, I know that when I am browsing for porn here at work, I too have a hard time weeding the real farmers from the fake.

Who cares anyway. The internet isn’t “real” so why should anything on it be? It’s not like someone is really having sex with these farmers. And, if by an outside chance, and I mean outside chance, you were screwing a farmer you met online, if you found out they weren’t really a farmer, what would you do? This is all hypothetical, of course. I swear.

Throne of Grace

2005-03-11T10:47:00.000-05:00

A True Throne of Grace

My coworker came across this toilet while searching for fixtures for a client. Although it may seem like a joke, you can actually buy it off the Designer Plumbing website here.

Notice how it’s discreetly placed in the most private of all locations, the bottom of the staircase. Either that, or the architect has installed a second floor in the bathroom, which I think would also be great. The angled position of the toilet is not orientated to any wall of the room, thus erupting the deceptively 18th century toilet into the 21st century.

In case you have trouble lifting the lid after a night of heavy boozing, they’ve also installed a ceramic doorknob on the seat. If I had to throw-up in any toilet, I’d consider this one. Heck, I wouldn’t even have to make it upstairs.

The pull-chain flush has a bell “which informs you that the operation has ended.” This is handy because I’ve mistakenly stayed in the bathroom for hours upon hours. Luckily they have a bell for that now to tell me it’s over. There is also a mounted candle “ready to help you in case of electricity breakage” and an ashtray in the armrest. Just the fact that a toilet has armrests makes this a necessary component to any bathroom.

Or even a hallway.

Like a Broken Record

2005-03-10T11:27:00.000-05:00

So I’ve started buying Vinyl… not that I own a record player or anything, but I possibly think I could eventually. Some may think it’s foolish to buy records with nothing to play them on, but it’s equally as dumb, I’ve decided, to buy a turntable and have no records. I’d rather be adrift in the ocean with cans of food but with nothing to open them with, than have nothing but a can opener. That’s what we would call irony.

So Vinyl it was; only by pure accident though. I ordered the U.S.E. album online and when it came in the mail in a much larger package than expected, I thought “Holy shit this is a big CD”. I opened it and I quickly realized my mistake. Was I disappointed that I couldn’t listen to it? Hell no. I was just excited that it was green! And although I still haven’t listened to it, I imagine it rocks, and it’s now my favorite album of all time. I also have a few records back home, with such classics as “Bert and Ernie” and two Carebear albums. I especially love the Bert and Ernie album because the last song is about closing your eyes and imagining, while simultaneously they play sleepy music. At the very end, a sarcastic Ernie inaudibly whispers, “Ok kids, you can open your eyes now.”

Records are also fun because when you play one and lay down to read or something, right when you get comfortable it requires you to get up repeatedly and flip it. And if you’re lucky enough to have a scratch, then you can get up even more.

Unless, of course you fall asleep listening to Ernie. Then you let it skip until your roommate comes in and turns it off, at which point you wake up and ask, “Why’d you turn that off?”

Color Blind.

2005-03-09T10:33:00.000-05:00

Someone asked me the other day my opinion regarding color schemes for a building he is making Upstate. “I was looking at this Cognac color next to an Apricot carpet, but I didn’t know if that’d clash with the Auburn in the bathroom. What do you think?” Woah woah woah. Wait a minute. I stick with colors like Red. Red I know. And Blue. I know that too. In fact, anything inside a Crayola 8-pack I got. Beyond that, I get lost, and this includes CMYK, which stands for Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Vitamin K. (Cyan and Magenta are just fancy terms for Blue and Hot Pink). Hell, I had no clue what Saffron was until it invaded my favorite park. It rhymes with Teflon though, so I’m thinking Christo and his wife Whats-Her-Name must have trademarked the word. To mine eyes, I thought they looked just like Orange Gates. That’s probably why people pretended to like them, because they learned a new word. It’s like the time when I learned the word paradigm and used it everywhere, even when it made no sense at all. Everyone was impressed. Nowadays I say saffron only to avoid dispute. I still don’t know the difference and deep down inside I know there is none; the Emperor wears no clothes, let alone colorful ones.

By the way, you owe $900.

2005-03-08T11:57:00.000-05:00

My Dad called me last night about a very Dad topic: taxes. Now, I love my dad and all, but there is something excruciatingly painful about talking for 20 minutes about forms, state tax law, city tax law. At one point, however, the conversation turned from the mundane “Do you have the 104s-W2ez form” to this: “According to my calculations, you owe the state $900.”

“What?!” I replied. I panicked and thought of all the presents I had been planning to buy all my friends and family and poor children throughout the war-torn regions of the globe. There, in an instant, went my dreams of philanthropy.

“But,” my father continued, “You already paid that and a bit more, so you should get the rest back.”

Ohhhhh. You see, my father has trouble conjugating verbs, so when he says the present tense “You owe” he really means to say “If you hadn’t paid a dime, you would owe…” He also has a habit of calling every meal “Supper”, as in: “Jerry, wake up. It’s time for supper.”

Tickets Please.

2005-03-04T12:42:00.000-05:00

In order to subsidize my concert-going, I've taken to ticket-speculating. Unlike the land-speculators in the 1840s who wore top hats and canes, I wear flannel and face paint. My very first attempt at this was for Wilco in October, and it failed when I was screwed by UPS and my tickets never arrived, forcing me to get will-call tickets (Will-call rhymes with Wilco). I ended up losing $25 on the deal, but a friend got to accompany me for free. And friends are worth more than gold, as I am often told through emails my mom sends me. Or maybe it was in an e-card. Anyway, I learned my lesson, and wont buy at Radio City Music Hall again. In fact, I saw Interpol there for $12.50 on Tuesday because I never others would fail too.

Well, actually I paid $25… until Ang pays me back. (C’mon, you know that friends are really a dime a dozen.) Hey, I should start my own Friendshp Chain letter: “Real friends pass on chain letters. So pass this on to 8 people telling them they are expendable or else bad things will happen.” “Friends are the people who visit you in the hospital to make you feel more invalid.” “Friends are the people who borrow your stuff and never return it.” Oh wait… maybe these are the things about me that make me so awful.

So, I’ve return to the market. No, not the meat market, the ticket market. I financed my Rusted Root show by selling spare tickets for the same fee that Ticketmaster would have charged. Therefore, I am only as evil as Ticketmaster, which is a corporation, and by default good-willed. I am doing a favor to the lazy people who forgot to get tickets. Except, and here’s the rub, a lot of the lazy people who forget tickets are also the poor people that can only afford pay face value.

I know because I am one of them, and although I forget to get tickets sometimes, I still won’t pay a dime over face value. Unless, of course, a friend is worth 1/12th of a dime… then I’d trade a dozen for a show.

The Staples Paradox

2005-03-03T08:37:00.000-05:00

You know what I hate even more than life itself? Having my stapler run out of staples. There is nothing so disappointing in life other than pounding one’s fist down and removing a group of papers only to find them not attached to each other. It really catches me off-guard because I expect them to be bound inexorably together by a shard of folded metal. As it turns out, my office buys all our supplies at Staples, except, of course, for staples themselves. So, every time I go to the supply cabinet thinking “Staples. Staples. Staples.” I end up spending half the time lost and confused staring at boxes marked Staples without containing them. No matter what I try to do, I can’t help but repeatedly grab the paperclip box (another one of my favorite shards of metal), or the pen box, all clearly marked “Staples”. It’s an instinctual reaction.

From now on, I am sending my coworker to the cabinet. I have more important things to do than think about the existentialism of a staple.

Transmitting to Outer Space

2005-03-02T08:50:00.000-05:00

Has anyone else noticed that now when you post to craigslist, it asks you if it’s “ok to transmit this posting into outer space.” Yes, that outer space. As seen in such PBS documentaries as Nova and The Outer Limits. It appears that they are going to launch some sort of satellite into the Universe, and instead of carrying a message of scientific or peaceful nature, which has been proven useless, it will carry a much more dignified one. I guess they are hoping this will increase the probability of craigslist users finding others who will give those sensual massages. I certainly have had no luck. In fact, of the people I talked to on craigslist, several have actually been to outer space via an alien abduction, and a couple of them are building their own rocket/time machine. Or maybe that was just their fancy name for a vibrator. Either way, it definitely didn’t sound safe.

For those of my readers who do not speak English, you can read the alternate translation on my website here.

The Law of the Pack

2005-03-01T16:52:00.000-05:00

We received an application in our office over the weekend with the following statement under the heading Objective: “To give the best of my ability to do the task given to me in order to achieve the company’s goal.” Can you be just a liiiiitle more specific, please? I also noticed that this statement is pretty damn close to the Cub Scout Promise: “to do my best, to do my duty to God and my country, to help other people, and to obey the Law of the Pack.” Now, if the above applicant said he would have obeyed the Law of the Pack, holy shit, that would be awesome. For those of you who are forgetful, or like me who never memorized the thing (and therefore dropped out of Scouts), the Law of the Pack is the one that begins: The Cub Scout follows Akela. The Cub Scout helps the pack go... I like this for a few reasons: First, its pretty enigmatic as to who this Akela is. If you google Akela under “I’m feeling Lucky,” you discover he’s a flesh-eating wolf that devours children. I know because it’s in Italian and I speak it and you’ll have to trust me. The second reason I love the Law (we can call it just “the Law” because there really is no other), is that it also leave the mystery of exactly where the pack is going. It just goes. And goes. But Where, Jerry? According to I’m feeling Lucky, “The pack is going” abroad! To England we suppose, where the the Cub Scout promises to do their duty to God and to the Queen, in lieu of the Country. (in English we say lieu to sound fancy, which rhymes with France-y, which would be correct. Lieu in fact is French meaning place, and rhymes with Loo which is British meaning potty.)

By the way, the Law of the Pack reached its peak-popularity in 1995 with a fleeting comment by Silvestor Stalone in the runaway smash-hit Judge Dredd when he said "I am the Law!" Rent it tonight!

Things to do on a Day off:

2005-02-28T10:41:00.000-05:00

Things to do on a Day off:
Well, considering what I did President’s Day, the most obvious answer is to watch Dr. Phil. My favorite subject that he covers, (I’ve seen two episode dedicated to it) (and yes, I have seen more than one. and so have you), is alcohol. Myself being an advocate of that genre of beverages*, I find his shotty research biased. (shotty is a word halfway between shitty and spotty, therefore a perfect choice, PLUS it rhymes with all sorts of cool words, most notably potty.) Like Dr. Phil, my mother rifles off all sorts of overprotective concerns and cautions regarding alcohol… despite the beautiful gift of two, yes two, cases of wine for Christmas. However, last time I was home she was paranoid that I might offer drinks to people *gasp* underage. She made it equivalent to a stranger offering candy to kids on a playground. Now, I don’t make a point of searching out minors to drink with, but heck, I don’t have a habit of carding my friends either. And the minors (once you turn 21, you become a major, and if you’re into Jazz, a major seven), well, the minors are not typically big consumers yet. Well most. This kid on Dr. Phil drinks a lot. In addition they interviewed parents whose daughter had died after drinking like 30- 40 drinks. Well, duh. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but after 15 drinks or so, how do even find you mouth anymore? Another kid on Dr. Phil takes cold medicine to get high. Oh man, points for creativity, but what a screwed up thing to do. She doesn’t care if she has a stroke and is paralyzed. If you are going to be a dope and do dope, you should stick to the drugs that are proven and time-honored. Well, shortly after the show concluded, an Oreo commercial came on, and being the obedient little consumer I am, I scurried off to the store to buy some Oreos and milk (my drug of choice). On the way, my mother called.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the store to get Oreos, milk, and cold medicine to get high.”
“Ahhhhhh!! I just saw that on Dr. Phil!!!”
I know, Mom. I know.

*(disclaimer: please drink responsibly)

Going On Holiday

2005-02-24T11:50:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I am taking the day off from work. I recently enjoyed a holiday on Monday and I decided I deserve a second in the same week. In England, they use the term holiday more frequently, whereas we would normally say vacation. Those kooky Brits (rhymes with tits) (and, get this, British almost rhymes with fetish). It isn’t really a vacation for me, though, since I am not going anywhere; in fact, I am going to make a point of not going anywhere by cleaning my bathroom and doing my laundry. Ergo, (look how smart I am, I know Latin), I am calling tomorrow a holiday and not a vacation. Actually I’ll be on holiday, but not like a person is on an aeroplane (I spell cool too), or on top of Old Smokey. Instead, I’ll be on holiday like a person is on drugs. Since I’ll be doing chores, it’ll put me “on top of things”, and it’s no coincidence that things are my favorite objects to be on top of.

Speaking of Philosophy...

2005-02-23T13:27:00.000-05:00

So, like I was saying, the primordial deconstructive evolution was not intended to be construed as a means of progression,or rather, a de-progression, through the irrational paradigm of reason. The apparent paradox of such a system, while in its essence may seem very spontaneous, (since it is in fact its own singularity of itself), is not. The truth behind the event, we could even say "pre-event",(since its own existence doesn't affect itself until after its own Being) is that Knowledge disrupts its own process. What this attempts is actually to prevent the "pre-event." No pun intended.

So this is what philosophers pretty much do. Talk a lot about nothing. That's why its ok to live in ignorance and bliss and be happy. Not that ignorance is good. We should only kinda be enlightened. We should strive to mediocrity, or somewhere in the middle of it. We should by all means conform. It makes life way easier. Philosophers are on drugs anyway. I don't want a drug dealer telling me what to think. Just give me my coke without the existential strings attached.

An Extract on Philosophy:

2005-02-23T12:22:00.000-05:00

Here is an extract from a chat room that I hosted last week. I was signed in under my pseudonym "larchie" which is short for "l'architect" which is french for "the architect." As you can see, some people refer (rhymes with reefer) to me as dr. archie:

[20:21] -pcooper- Is the Socratic Paradox paradoxical because ignorance is not always bad and knowledge is not always good I'm completely lost on this one?
[20:21] -pcooper- or does it relate to socrates?
[20:21] *** guest has joined #philosophy
[20:21] -guest- howdy
[20:21] -pcooper- hi
[20:21] -larchie- The Socratic Paradox is that knowledge is identical to good and ignorance is identical to evil--always.
[20:22] *** guest1 has joined #philosophy
[20:22] -larchie- Hi guests
[20:22] -guest- hey dr. archie...
[20:22] -guest- i have a few questions
[20:22] -larchie- We are discussing the Socratic Paradox right now.
[20:22] -guest- oh, okay...please continue
[20:22] -larchie- Everyone seeks what is most serviceable to himself. If you know what is good, you will always act in a way to achieve it. If you act in such a way that it is not conducive to your good, then you must have been mistaken (i.e., ignorant). The paradoxical aspect is that we are morally responsible for knowledge.
[20:24] -larchie- Next question?
[20:25] -larchie- Is there some aspect of the paradox you would like to know in detail (pcooper)?
[20:25] *** pcooper has quit IRC

The Boy with the Straw.

2005-02-20T12:01:00.000-05:00

I was running errands at McDonald’s Saturday night: I needed cash and a bathroom, and my friend Angela needed food. If only they had beer like in Europe, I said as we walked in, this would be the perfect place for a Saturday night. I compare everything to the hipness of Europe, especially fast-food. ("In Europe they have..." "When I was in Euuurrroppeee... ") The cash-obtaining at the ATM (run by the Actor’s Credit Union) ran smoothly; however, the bathroom wait was puzzling. One guy was inside and I heard the toilet flush long before anything else happened. And when something finally did happen, it was the sounds of the running faucet, followed a few minutes later by the sound of the air-dryer (rhymes with hair-dryer). When the guy finally vacated the room, I noticed two things A) he didn’t looked like he was on crack and B) it didn’t stink as if the prolonged presence was trying to mask some telling odor. It turns out, by the time I myself got out of the bathroom, which was literally 1/100th the time the previous guy took, our friend had made an acquaintance with Angela. Oh Boy, I thought, I am soooo lucky.

Maybe I was wrong about the crack. Maybe in fact he was drugged out. We quickly learned a lot about our friend in the next few minutes... as he drank a can of Bud (through a McDonald’s Straw), and while Angela hastily ate her small fries. Small fries don’t last long when you eat them slowly, but they lasted long enough for this:
“So, they don’t mind if you drink that in here?”
“It’s OK. I work here.”
“Ohhhh,” I thought, maybe he was just changing in the bathroom.
“Well, actually, I used to work here.”
Oh, no kidding, I thought as I looked at his beer…
“Get fired for drinking on the job?”
“Actually. I lied. I’ve never worked here.” Oh. And with that the topic was killed. And we left.

Plural of Yeti Part II

2005-02-19T10:18:00.000-05:00

And now on to a few places that it is used correctly

1. Yeti. Who is Irvine Welsh? Anyway… see the third post again. “It is also both singular and plural, so you should beware, potentially, of several Yeti.”
And that’s the whole point. Whenever we use the singular of Yeti, the plural is right there too. So beware.

2. Yeti. And this, my friends is the correct form. I know because http://www.ufoinfo.com/ is the most fair and balanced news source around. “The Yeti, which is the plural as well as the singular.” Apparently Nicolas Cage was looking for a yeti: "Cage admitted his interest in all things beastly and hairy."

Plural of Yeti? Part 1

2005-02-18T10:12:00.001-05:00

It’s only been a few days since starting, but I already have received hundreds of emails asking whether or not Yeti is truly the plural form of Yeti. I have done some research and the results were startling: no one seems to know, but everyone acts like they do.
See for yourself:

1. Yettis. Despite the repetition of the same post, and the fact that it’s on a message board, which are always true, we doubt this is correct. He himself is only 80% sure. That’s not good enough for us.

2. Yetis. Yes, I know this is a “dictionary.” but it’s an MSN dictionary, which is about as reliable as the message board guy.

3. Yetii. I like this one. I don’t think it’s right, but the guy has a point. Although, he’s asking the same question as we are. I like the third post’s advice, which applies to me. And to the fourth post? Yeah right.

4. Yetties. Not a message board this time. A chat log!

More to come!

Problem Shaving

2005-02-17T10:11:00.000-05:00

I cut myself shaving today. You would think with at least seven years (ok, maybe five good years) of daily experience I would be an expert. But Jerry, you say, there must be some days you don’t shave? True, but that’s balanced by all those times when I was 14 and used to shave three or four times a day. But no, I am no expert (which haphazardly rhymes with sexpert). Instead, I let the tale-tell sign of reddening shaving cream tell me when I need to change razors. Sometimes I can get away week after week without seeing blood. But not today. And I always cut myself in the best places. Today, it was at the corner of my mouth. And as ritual, instead of changing razors then, I punish myself and finish the job…. which more often than not results in cutting myself twice. So as I was finishing my shave, the blood was a lot more than usual, and started to run, both down and slightly sideways, onto my lip. By the time I was done, I look like I had just finished drinking a glass of blood, alla vampire. In fact, I spent the next five minutes in the mirror making faces and saying, “I vant to suck your blooooood,” and “Come into my chamber, for a little drrrrink.”
And that’s why, in case you were wondering, I was late to work.

Among Giants

2005-02-16T10:12:00.001-05:00

I went to see an old favorite band last evening, They Might Be Giants, tearing it up at Borders Books in Columbus Circle. TMBG played mostly songs involving the ABCs, going to bed, brushing you teeth, being told No, and clapping your hands, (pretty much all of my favorite things to do... but in song format). The remarkable thing was, if you were not jumping up and down when you were instructed to do so, you were the only one. Talk about peer pressure. (If you consider 6 and 15 year-olds peers, which I obviously do). Prior to the show, I saw a lot of the crowd reading Science Fiction Literature, D & D, and various comic books… I mean, are you SERIOUS? Not that there is anything wrong with any of this, (I just finished a SF book by C.S. Lewis), but to see so many, I was thinking, Are all Giants fans freaks? The answer is obviously no, but they are definitely an odd bunch. And I count myself among them, so I can say whatever the hell I want. So, at the end of the show, they closed with “New York City” and it was actually a very touching moment. I mean, grew UP listening to these guys everyday. And now, years later, I haven’t bought an album in forever, and haven’t even listened to them much at all. It’s like I’ve had an affair with another woman, and now I felt guilty. I actually missed those youthful days, represented by the acne covered teens around me. I even started to tear up. Now that would have made me the freakiest fan of all: everyone dancing along, and some weirdo in a suit and tie breaking out in tears.

My Morning Coffee

2005-02-15T10:27:00.000-05:00

I went to get my morning coffee today. It seems like consumerism is everywhere, so I am not surprise my coffee cup has an ad on it. (We say “ad” in America, but in British, it’s pronounced “advert”, which rhymes with “pervert”, which makes more sense). What I am surprised, or should I say delighted, is to see that the very thing they are promoting is Larry Flynt’s Gentleman’s Club. Now, nothing wakes me up more than thinking about a night on the town at a sleazy strip club, er… I mean “Adult Cabaret” (as opposed to a Children’s Cabaret?) Anyway, the coffee shop has two types of cups, gender pending. One for the Gentlemen, who go to Gentlemen Clubs, and one for the Ladies, which have no advertisements because they, we must assume, go to Church. It’s as the saying goes about girls and Sugar and Spice, … and Posh, and Ginger, and well, I can’t remember the rest.

Want to Get Lucky on Valentine’s Day?

2005-02-14T10:08:00.000-05:00

Fun Activity:

On the Google homepage, type in “Valentine”. Now hit “I’m Feeling Lucky”… You will shortly discover, and I quote, that “Military strategists agree that successful defense begins with good intelligence about the enemy.” Wow. Talk about great advice. This is the best wisdom I have yet heard on love. In addition, it offers help on “telling you – on every alert – where to look, and how many to look for.” Man, how have I lived without this?

So, I was arguing with my coworker about water and concrete, and how we have to waterproof this concrete beam, and how ugly that’ll look. Because the concrete only provides 1” of cover over the steel rebar, I guess we have to waterproof it, which I did eventually agree to, despite it’ll still be ugly, because inevitably there WILL be cracks and as he said “water will find a way.” “Like love,” I replied, “Love will always find a way.”

At Work with a Bud.

2005-02-13T15:58:00.000-05:00

Working overtime on a Sunday. The Lord's Day. The Day of Rest. The day I usually reserve for the New York Times and well... feeling sick about having to work the next day. So I've invented (Pat. Pending) a way of not getting that feeling. Now, you might think,
"Jerry, but dont you get that sick feeling on Saturday now?" and I answer "Why no." That's because it feels just so damn good to be home after a long week at work. Just typing that makes me worn out. And tomorrow's only Monday. But for me, it'll be the Middle of the Week. And it'll be Valentine's Day, which is Way cool for me, because it's an excuse to go drinking alone. And there is nothing more fun than drinking alone. I mean, St. Patty's Day is fun, because we all drink together. But St. Valentine's Day (Yep, it's a Saint's Day too. The Saints loooooove to drink), is when you are mandated to drink alone. Well, I'm not drinking alone alone. I'll be with a couple other friends. But we'll all be drinking alone at a bar with other people drinking alone. At McSorley's in fact. One of the most Un-alone bars you can go to.

I'm having a Bud as we speak. I sent my co-worker to the bodega to get one, and you know what? he did. except that it's in bottle format. that'd be cool, if like, i was looking to be cool. but it's just me and him. and this other guy, whom i dont care if i look cool to. i'd rather have the can. a bottle is o.k., if it's more than, let's say, 12 oz. Then I'd be down with it. Well, I can't complain too much. I do have a beer. except that it's almost gone.

Did you ever notice that on the Bud bottle, it boasts its quality as drinkable? Hot damn, that's impressive. They don't advertise that loud enough. The actual word they use is drinkability. Which is Latin for "The ability to drink a lot of beer." So, I have a lot of drinkability. It's one of the only things I have going for me. That, and I "have a taste... and smoothness you will find in no other" guy "at any price."