Little Blue Pill

A few years back a bunch of us headed into NYC to see a funk band that was playing at Le Bar Bat. It's this weird tri-level club in mid-town decorated with, well...bats!

Don't really remember who the band was or what the occasion was, all I really remember was the hottest old couple I have ever seen! And I'm talking oooooollllllllddddd! He was in his seventies and she was in her mid-sixties, at least.

But she was crackin' for a sixty-year old. I guarantee you there were dudes in the audience wishing they could hit that. I'll include myself with that group. Fake tits out to here, short little mini-skirt, kickin' legs...um, I don't remember if she had a face so I can't comment on that.

Her man was not so hot...in fact he was decrepit. Bad suit, bad hair, could barely walk, but here he was with his hottie boom bottie younger woman.

What made them stand out was a 30-minute session of dirty dancing right in front of the band that just abso-fucking-lutely freaked everyone in the place out! We were mesmerized. We wanted to look away, at times, but we just couldn't. She was rockin' back and forth on his erect (yes, erect) penis that formed a large tent in his bad trousers. She was grabbing him by the ears and jamming his face into her crotch. She would turn around and bend over while he pantomimed possibly illegal sexual maneuvers behind her. She would stick his face into her ample cleavage while he made motor boat noises. BBBRRRRRMMMMSSSSKKKKYYYY!

It was awesome!

We have no idea how the old feller didn't keel over from cardiac arrest right then and there, but God bless 'em! Oh yeah, and the Pfizer Corporation for making it all possible.

I wish every evening could include something like that.

Booze, a fireplace and Playboy

Busy with work today (shut up Slyde!), but needed a break so I thought I would share with you a little tale from my drunken past. Well, my present is fairly drink-filled as well so maybe I should just say my past. But I was drunk...so there!

I've been a Playboy centerfold model.

Well, not officially, but I think I made a pretty good case for myself one night. Lemme 'splain.

In my mid-late 20's I worked with a huge group of similar-aged folks at this financial services company. We all hated our jobs and we all liked to drink. Our favorite time to drink was Friday night Happy Hour. Our Happy Hour, of course, lasted for something like seven or eight hours but you get the point.

There was this one joint down the road from us that was our joint of choice every Friday night. Our whole day was planned around leaving work 15 minutes early so that we could get a parkings spot that wasn't 3 miles away. It was right by a local airport so it had a military/airplane theme and a huge outdoor patio area. We loved that place! Many an evening were spent outside near the fire pit drinking un-godly expensive beers and bad shots. Good times.

Anyway, this one night we were indoors towards the back of the bar. There was a little walkway between one section of the bar and another and for some reason there was this huge, un-used, stone fireplace there. It was big...big enough for me to crawl into. That fact will become important a bit later in the story. Made no sense to me why a fireplace would be there, but there it was.

So I'm having drinks with Slyde and a few other friends (Cristina and Alice, I believe). We were sitting in this little cut through area and I am sitting directly on the huge slate in front of said stone fireplace. Don't know what we were talking about, but I looked around and said outloud: "Hey...doesn't this place remind you of something out of a Playboy photo-shoot?"

At this point my friends either pretended to have never seen a Playboy or they just laughed out loud...I can't remember. Most of them just scoffed at me saying things like "What the hell are you talking about?".

That's when I decided to show them.

I whipped off my suit jacket and I started a posedown. Here were some of my favorite poses:

• On hands in knees, ass towards camera, shyly looking over my shoulder.
• Sitting down, one hand behind my back to prop me up, the other spreading the privates.
• Demurely looking into the camera while licking one erect nipple.
• Laying on my stomach, elbows propping up head, feet in the air crossed above my ass.
• Standing next to fireplace, one arm covering breasts, the other cupped over privates.

I was a machine. I didn't let the howls of laughter from my friends nor the steady stream of bar customers on their way to the pisser distract me. I was in the zone.

I never did get a call from Hef, though. Nor from any magazine that would prefer to publish pics of pudgy, drunk guys. Sigh.

Beer me!

Went to a retailer's beer tasting the other night with new lady love (shiny!) and another bartender from the restaurant she manages.

First we stopped off at a decent BBQ joint in Bayshore named Smokin' Als to line our stomachs. I had the St. Louie Ribs and they were just ok. The chili, however, was fantastic. Real smoky (how did they do that?) with chunks of chorizo in it. Delicious! The rest of the stuff was just decent. Nothing to write home about.

We then proceeded to the beer tasting. Only restaurateurs, bar owners and beer distributors and their guests were invited. Got to meet a lot of interesting folks whose main interests were beer, beer and more beer. My kind of people.

There was one guy from Arcadia Ales somewhere in the Mid-West who had a fabu selection of English-style beers. His Double IPA (with a picture of The Green Man on the front) was terrific as was his Scottish Ale and London Porter.

I'm going to screw up the name of this one, but Unibroue (sounds like Uni-brow?) from Canada also was a hit with our crew. They make La Fin Du Monde and Maudite, so some of you may know of them. Great stuff! So were all the beers from Ommegang Brewery in upstate NY. They are owned by Duvel in Belgium and they make all high-quality Belgian-style beers. Our favorite was a Grand Cru (actually made by Duvel) that was of the Flemish sour variety. Awesome!

There was also this great, light, crisp pilsner from the Czech Republic called BurgerBrau. I could see sitting down and drinking 3 or 10 of them one hot afternoon. Let's not forget PBR. That's right...Pabst Blue Ribbon, bee-yatches! They represented as well. Our friend, Brett, got the coolest PBR wristband you ever saw from the sales rep. I'm jealous to death!

We ended up with a decent buzz and a ton of free swag including about two cases of various beers. Sweet! I so dig dating a beer goddess!

"Awww...that's so sweet!"

Slyde's tale of his trip to NYC to see Martin Short's Broadway show made me think of my favoritist Broadway experience. Hang onto your socks...this is gonna be a long one. And I've told this story before (on Slyde's blog, I think) in short form so it may be repetitive. Oh well. Deal with it, beee-yatchs!

Now, I'm not a Broadway guy. I'd much prefer to hand over 10 bucks at the local movie theater to see a good film than sit through a Broadway play. Sometime, just sometimes, it's really worth it. This one time was more than worth it.

Before "The Producers" came out and became such a huge mega-hit, I had heard that it was being adapted for Broadway. I was/am a huge Mel Brooks fan so I was instantly interested. I also needed something to buy for my girlfriend at the time for Christmas.

So I went online to pre-buy tickets for the earliest show possible. There really wasn't a buzz for it yet as most folks didn't know it was coming. It wasn't Opening Night...it was actually the first "rehearsal" night in Manhattan, happening a few weeks prior to the official Opening Night. Cool.

When my friend Cristina found out about it, she asked me to try to score tix to the same show...which I did. Somehow I managed, three days later, to get the two seats right next to me and my girlfriend for her and her husband. Like I said...this was all pre-buzz, but I still found it odd that I could get those.

Anyway, we get to Manhattan some months later for the show and we do the dinner thing at Carmine's, drinks somewhere else before rolling to the show. The lobby was packed and we ordered drinks and settled in towards the rear of the lobby...back by the emergency exits. That's when we hear someone knocking on one of the exit doors to get in.

We didn't know what to do. Should we let someone into a sold-out first night performance of the show? After weighing our options we decided to open the doors. It was Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft! MEL BROOKS AND ANNE BANCROFT! MRS. FUCKING ROBINSON!

They thanked us and we shook hands (I think I may have hugged her...I dunno) before they joined the party. I was dumbstruck! My friends Cristina and her husband then asked "Who was that woman with Mel Brooks?" AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH! I can't stand non-movie people!

So, if that wasn't good enough (and believe me I was high for two weeks after meeting them) the show was fantastic! Mel stood in the first row and conducted comically throughout. Hysterical! But it gets better...much better.

At intermission, we went out to the lobby to get another cocktail. As everyone filed in for the second half, me and my girlfriend stayed at the bar to finish our drink. I had to go tinkle so I told her to wait there and I would be right back. I turned around and there was Sarah Jessica Parker just standing there by herself. So I turned around and smacked my girlfriend to look over there at the Big Star. She was deep in conversation with the bartender so she didn't understand what I was saying. I didn't get that she didn't understand, so I just proceeded on towards Mrs. Broderick.

There were so many things I wanted to say. Her husband was awesome in the play...tell him I said Happy Birthday (don't ask why I knew it was his birthday on that day)...I love your show...I loved "Square Pegs". So many things!

All that came out was "I love you". I wanted to die.

But Sarah Jessica Parker, to her credit, was very kind. Instead of calling Security, she put her hand on my arm and said "Awww...that's so sweet!" with a great big smile on her face. I'm a fan for life because of that moment.


Epilogue
When I left her and went to proceed to the bathroom, I realized that my girlfriend didn't follow me over to the Big Star. I know had a decision to make. Do I A) go back past Big Star and tell girlfriend about her before I pee or B) not tell her and risk her almost certain wrath? I chose option A. So I snuck around Ms. Parker and whispered to girlfriend "Now act cool, but right now the only other person in the lobby is Sarah Jessica Parker". She responded by pushing me out of the way and running over to her screaming to put her in a bear hug in what was certainly the most un-cool act of hero worship ever witnessed. My work for the evening was done. Thank you.

Cat Power

One of the reasons I went to NYC earlier this week was to see the talented Chan (pronounced "Shawn", I believe) Marshall aka Cat Power play an early show at Irving Plaza.

Recent convert to the church of Cat Power, but damn is this one fine performer. Trying to describe her is like trying to describe your favorite bourbon. Husky, wood-smoked voice with trailer-trash beginnings aged into smooth honey-coated lyrics. She is an angel in blue jeans with a cigarette smoke halo.

Wow! New lady love (shiny!) might have to watch her back! Not like me to wax poetic like that.

One complaint that I have is the crowd at the show. Besides scattered pockets of fun people, everyone else seemed to be watching as if zombie-fied. I know her music is a bit somber and smart, but she was having fun on stage. Smoking cigs and dancing around...having fun! The rest of the crowd treated each song as a dirge and acted accordingly. Not us! We danced and drank Rolling Rock out of cans! Yezzir!

Anyway, here is one of my favorite songs she performed the other night. If you ever get a chance to hear it, enjoy the tempo change towards the end of the song.


Lived in Bars

We've lived in bars
And danced on tables
Hotel trains and ships that sail
We swim with sharks
And fly with aeroplanes in the air

Send in the trumpets
The marching wheelchairs
Open the blankets and give them some air
Swords and arches bones and cement
The light and the dark of the innocent of men

We know your house so very well
And we will wake you once we've walked up
All your stairs

There's nothing like living in a bottle
And nothing like ending it all for the world
We're so glad you will come back
Every living lion will lay in your lap
The kid has a homecoming the champion the horse
Who's going to play drums, guitar or organ with chorus
As far as we've walked from both of ends of the sand
Never have we caught a glimpse of this man

We know your house so very well
And we will bust down your door if you're not there

We've lived in bars
And danced on tables
Hotel trains and ships that sail
We swim with sharks
And fly with aeroplanes out of here

Bellboy!!!!!

Was talking to a friend of mine a while back about Keith Moon, former drummer of The Who. Moon died back in 1978 (when I was just a wee lad), and we were discussing the facts surrounding his death.

I had always thought that Moon died in an alchohol-fueled bender that ended with him choking on his own vomit. Don't know where I first heard this, but I thought that was the story. In actuality, Moon was seriously trying to quit booze and he accidentally overdosed on the very drug, Chlormethiazole, that was supposed to wean him off the stuff.

The story goes that Moon would take the drug, pass out, and then forget that he had taken it. Thus the accidental overdose.

Some weird stuff regarding what Moon was doing and where he died:

• Moon and his girlfriend attended the premiere of The Buddy Holly Story (about a rock star who died too young) with Paul and Linda McCartney the night before his death. After having dinner with the McCartneys, they left the party early and stayed at a flat owned by a friend, Harry Nilsson.
• Not only did Moon die in this flat, but so did legendary singer "Mama" Cass Elliot a few years earlier. Mama Cass even died in the same bed (!!!) that Moon died in.
• Nilsson was so upset at the loss of his two friends in his flat that he sold it...to Pete Townshend!
• Moon's alleged last words were "If you don't like it, you can just fuck off!" to his girlfriend after he asked her to make steak and eggs for breakfast.

I like Moon's last words, but my all time favorite last words were said by esteemed actor Oliver Reed (who performed in the film version of The Who's Tommy, and was a close friend of Moon). When asked if he had any regrets about his life on his deathbed (or so the story goes), Reed responded with "My only regret is that I didn't drink every pub dry and sleep with every woman on the planet."

Man after my own heart!

Just for Liz...

...and maybe for a few more of you folks (well, Kat and Slyde...the only ones who read this shit)!

You are right. Spending massive amounts of time with shiny new lady love has taken me away from my proper blogging duties. Won't happen again!

Labor Day. Such a non-holiday pour moi. While everyone else is preparing for that last trip to the beach or the last holiday bbq of the season, we decided to sleep in late and go to breakfast around 1:30PM. That's right! That's the way to celebrate "labor" day. By sleeping in and getting bad diner breakfast in the middle of the afternoon.

Know what I'm doing for the rest of the day? Taking a nap. Yeah boy! I'm taking this non-labor thing to the nth degree, boys and girls!

After I awake, I may (or may not) shower. I'll see what mood I'm in. Then maybe I'll watch a baseball game or pop a DVD in and settle down on my couch where I will probably, you guessed it, fall asleep. Drooling on my throw pillows.

What a lazy-ass day! Love it!

Tomorrow, I begin work for a new client. Yuck! That's the way you celebrate the day after Labor Day, I guess. Boo.....