For Kitty

Because it was requested by Kat, here is a recipe that I stole (that's right) from the NY Times a few weeks ago. It was yummy! Much more like a savory bread pudding than a soup, but equally delicous.

Soupe a l'Oignon Gratinee

1 baguette, cut into 1/2-inch slices (around 30 slices)
9 tablespoons butter, softened
9 ounces Emmental cheese, finely grated
8 medium yellow onions, finely sliced
1 tablespoon kosher/sea salt
1 cup tomato puree

1. Toast the baguette slices and coat each with butter after they have cooled. Then spread a generous layer of the Emmental cheese over them. Use all but about 1/2 cup or more of the cheese.
2. In a large saucepan, melt the remaining butter (or 4 tablespoons) and saute the onions until they are very soft and golden.
3. In a casserole dish (at least 5 quarts. I used a Dutch oven), arrange a layer of 1/3 of the bread slices. Spread 1/3 of the onions over them, followed by 1/3 of the tomato puree. Repeat for two more layers. Sprinkle the remaining grated cheese on top. To avoid boiling over, dish must not be more than 2/3 full.
4. In a saucepan, bring 1 1/2 quarts water to boil. Add the salt. Very slowly, pour the salted water into the casserole, near the edge, so that the liquid rises to the top layer of cheese without covering it. You may need more or less water.
5. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put the casserole on the stove and simmer, uncovered for 30 minutes. Then transfer to hot oven and bake uncovered for 1 hour. The soup is ready when the surface is crusty, golden cake and the inside is unctuous (nice word!) and so well blended that it is difficult to discern onion from cheese. Each person is served some of the baked crust and some of the inside, which should be thick but not completely without liquid. Serves 6.

PS - Betcha y'all didn't know that I had mad kitchen skillz. OK, I promise never to type "skillz" again.

Far Out

Had soooo much fun last night.

A local artsy-type cinema in my town had a Big Lebowski party for no real reason than to get a bunch of us fans drunk and screaming and laughing at the film on the big screen.

$15 cover charge gave us admission along with a one-year subscription to Pulse magazine (whatever that is) and all-you-can-drink White Russians! Awesome! We even had a pre-party at a friends house where we drank...you guessed it...White Russians!

There is a drinking game that is played to this movie where you try to drink a White Russian every time the Dude drinks one. It's not easy, my friends. I've tried it. Whew!

Anyway, it was a blast. I was never one for the midnight Rocky Horror experience, but seeing one of my favorite films with 150 or so other fans was a hoot and a half. I laughed more last night than I did in any previous viewing of the film, and I've seen it a lot!

They plan on doing things like this more often. Last month they had a sing-along to the musical episode from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I missed it. And if you know anything about me or my obsession with all things Buffy, then you know I was crushed. I, sadly, didn't find out about it until the night it played. Late that night. Dammit!!

Back to last night. Fun, fun, fun. Can't wait to see what they do next month.

PS - any comments about my love for all things Buffy will not sit well with me. You are warned.

Praising Silverman!

OK, so I kept my promise and didn't really watch the Oscars. Well...most of it. I was visiting with Gia at the restaurant and they had it on the TV, so you could say that I did see some of it. The Will Ferrell/Jack Black/John C. Reilly song number was pretty funny. Especially when Ferrell deferred to Mark Wahlberg, admitting he could kick Will's ass...that was funny!

But not nearly as funny as the 2007 Film Independent's Spirit Awards, which also aired over the weekend. And the reason it was so funny was the host...the lovely and talented Sarah Silverman.

OK, that may not be the best pic of her. I search for pictures on the Internet pretty much the same way I search for parking spots at the shopping mall. First one I see...I grab it!

Anyway, she was hysterical and the show was fantastic. It was witty, irreverent and exactly what the Oscars should be. They had stars like Minnie Driver and Rosario Dawson singing tribute songs about Best Film nominees to the beat of 70's pop classics. I couldn't find any youtube links for them, but they are great.

And the whole show will be replayed a number of times on IFC this week, so catch it just to see Sarah Silverman doing a joke about fucking her favorite cheese. It's well worth it.

My God! Jimmy Kimmel???????

Oscar bzzzzzzz

Sorry...must have fallen asleep when typing the title. Meant to say "Oscar buzzzzzzzzzz"

Damn! Keep falling asleep. Probably because I'm more bored than ever with the "spectacle" of the Oscars.

I actually have seen two of the films that are nominated for Best Picture this year. That's almost a record for me. I have seen The Departed, which I loved, and Little Miss Sunshine, which I thought was a nice little film that doesn't belong in this category. It was fun, but c'mon folks. Not the stuff of greatness.

I would like to see both Babel and Letters from Iwo Jima. I've tried to see Babel with Gia, but she is not-so-secretly in love with Gael Garcia Bernal so she wants to see it alone. Hell, I just wanna be around afterwards so she can take the passion she feels out on me.

I'm not proud.

And I think that Clint Eastwood is a fantastic director and Ken Watanabe is a very good actor, so Letters from Iwo Jima seems interesting. Especially seeing it from the Japanese point of view. Very few American movies deviate from the "God Bless the USA" attitude that pervades Hollywood. Way to go, Clint (you tough guy, you)!

As for The Queen, well the most praise that I have heard about it comes from my mother. So it's not way up there on my "must-see" list, if you know what I mean.

As for the rest of the major awards I have one thing to say. Yawn!

Leo, Ryan, the Fresh Prince and that slack-eyed monster going against a legend of the business in Peter O'Toole. Wow! Actually, I feel bad for the "slack-eyed" comment now. That wasn't nice. Forest Whitaker is actually a pretty great actor. So are Leonardo DiCaprio and Ryan Gosling, for that matter. But Will Smith? Again? C'mon!

And the women? Aren't Judi Dench, Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep and Kate Winslet nominated just about every year? And Penelope Cruz has about as much soul as my CD collection.

None that is.

So who cares about those awards.

I'm more interested in Jackie Earle Haley winning Best Supporting Actor and Martin Scorsese winning Best Director. That would be something. I especially love how everyone is treating Scorsese this year. We all feel soooo bad for him, having never won an Oscar. Boo-fucking-hoo! C'mon folks, his life isn't so bad. We should all be so deprived. That being said...I'm still rooting for him. He made After Hours, after all!

No, I haven't seen Jackie Earle Haley in Little Children, but that won't stop me from rooting for him. I've you can't place the name of the actor it's because he hasn't worked in years. He was the pock-mark-faced, long-haired teen of The Bad News Bears and Breaking Away. Two great movies from the 70's. I just think it's awesome that Kelly Leak is nominated for a huge award!

So, I probably won't watch the festivities come Sunday. Hell...it might be until Tuesday or Wednesday before I actually find out who the winners are. But I'm out there rooting for ya, Jackie Earle! Kick ass, Moocher!

Flat Tuesday

Don't you hate it when you are looking forward to something in the worst way...and it turns out to be shit.

Had a so-so Fat Tuesday celebration last night. That makes me sad.

Gia and I went to one of our favorite restaurants fairly close to where we live. They were having a Mardi Gras celebration, so we figured it was as good a place to go as anywhere. Drink specials, New Orleans-stlye menu and a live band playing some jazz and the blues to get us in the mood.

Unfortunately, they underestimated the draw of folks going out on a Tuesday night in the middle of February for a night of booze, eats and music because they had only one waitress working and no bus-folks. So everything took a reaaaaallllllyyyyy lonnnnnnnng time.

Not faulting our server. She was great and did what she could. But the food seems like it was prepared in a rush and it wasn't up to their standards. The band was good, though. Gia even knew a couple of the guys from days gone by. Cool.

Here's what we had:

Some Abita Purple Haze beer while we waited for our table. Very yummy and it fit with the theme of the night, so okay...good start.

Once we sat, I ordered a Cyclone (which is a fruity New Orleans type of drink that I've never heard of) and G had a cajun martini, or her version of it at least. Then we ordered some appetizers. Oysters for the girl and a toasted barley and onion soup for yours truly. Too bad that we had to wait over half an hour to try them. Once they arrived, my soup was okay but Gia's oysters were a bit offish. So so sad.

Then we had a mini Craw Boil for an intermezzo. Whole crawfish, potatoes and andoulle sausage in a spicy broth. Except that the broth was kinda tasteless which kinda ruins the whole Craw Boil thing. Who ever heard of a bland crawfish boil?

Finally our dinners arrived. Catfish with creamed collared greens and sweet potato beignets for Gia, and a shrimp and mussel etouffe for myself. Mine was pretty yummy, although the mussels were a bit weird in an etouffe for my tastes. Gia's dish was pretty bland....so that sucked.

Anyway, we gave the dinner a C, C-minus on a whole. Actually the band helped bring it up by half a grade, so there was some saving grace.

Now we know to punch our weight with this place and stick to going there on regular nights. Special menu nights apparently throw them out of whack.

One highlight of the night was the owner of the joint who got up and sang a few songs with the band. She brought some game and could really belt out a Bonnie Raitt song.

It's just too bad she didn't think ahead to bring another server to work with her instead.

The Big Fella

Try as I may, I just can't seem to take a good picture of Syd. He's sorta like the elusive Yeti in that there are many reports of his existence, but not alot of tangible photo evidence.

This one was taken with him perched on my chest. The fact that I was able to maneuver around all 25 pounds of him and actually take a picture is astounding to me. I swear that he was looking right at me the milli-second before I took this shot. Swear to goddess!

Here is another one of the big boy. Once again, hard to see and the flash went off in his eyes so he looks downright crazy. One of these days the perfect shot will emerge.

A Million Chimps

I've never really been much of a music snob. I like all kinds of stuff, and I think that is pretty well reflected on what I've put on my iPod. A little country, a little hard-core, some ska, some pop stuff, a bit 'o the blues...lots of genres.

I don't really know everything about any one artist or kind of music like some people do. As much of a Parrothead that I am, my buddy can destroy me in a game of Jimmy Buffett song/album trivia. And I'm pretty well versed in most of the punk bands that were popular in the early-mid 90's, but an expert by no means.

I guess I like to think of myself as eclectic when it comes to music.

That being said, my sister took a look at what I have been listening to recently on my iPod and she said something to the effect that a million chimps banging away on a million iPods with all the songs in the world at their disposal would never come up with the playlist of stuff that I listen to.

You decide. Here are the last ten songs off a random playlist from my collection:

1. Lived in Bars - Cat Power
2. Midnight on the Murder Mile - Carter USM
3. Cowboy Coffee - The Mighty, Mighty BossTones
4. Ruby Soho - Rancid
5. Across 110th Street - Bobby Womack
6. Overkill (acoustic) - Colin Hay
7. Flagpole Sitta - Harvey Danger
8. Asleep at the Bar - Easy Big Fella
9. Oh! You Pretty Things - David Bowie
10. Bella's Birthday Cake - Five for Fighting

Nothing really weird or obscure on that list. OK, Carter USM (the Unstoppable Sex Machine) was a band I was into back in the early 90's and Easy Big Fella is a band that I only have heard on a Ska compilation album about drinking.

But the rest of the stuff is pretty mainstream.

What are you listening to?

"Now what?"

I've got a few "guilty pleasure" films that I watch over and over again. They are not great films, in fact they aren't even good films. They are bad films that I just love for one reason or the other.

Road House is definitely one of them. Terrible movie, yet I watch it every time it is on. Best of the Best is another. Can't get enough of that one.

But my biggest guilty pleasure movie of all time is probably Deep Rising starring Treat Williams and Famke Janssen. But not only them. There are also some hired guns played by Wes Studi, Jason Flemyng, Cliff Curtis and Djimon Honsou. Some of my favorite character actors!

The plot is nonsense. A bunch of mercenaries headed by Studi are hired to do a wreck job on the world's largest ocean liner. They hire a boat captained by Williams to do the job, but before they arrive at their destination the liner is taken out by large sea creatures (some offshoot of the Archaea Ottoia).

Wackiness ensues.

My favorite and most bittersweet part of the movie? It's the shirt that Treat Williams is wearing during most of the film.

You see, I had the same shirt many years ago and it was my favorite piece of clothing of all time! It was a blue and green tartan button down shirt (the pic above is in black and white, but trust me) made by Eddie Bauer some years ago.

I wore the hell out of that shirt. It was sooooo comfy! It was that shirt you own that you wear right away as soon as you've washed it. Went with everything that you owned. Warm enough (with layers) to wear in the winter and light enough to wear on a cool summer night.

And I really did wear it out. I remember the last time I wore it. It was on vacation in North Carolina at a beach house. It had basically fallen apart from so much wearing and washing that I was forced to cut the sleeves off and wear it that way.

I wore it pretty much the entire week on vacation after which I think I gave it a Viking funeral. Or I threw it on a bonfire at the request of my entire family. Something like that.

Anyway...I miss my favorite shirt. I'm watching "Deep Rising" right now and remembering all the good times I had in that shirt. Sigh.

An old favorite

Dunno what made me think of this today, but it is one of my favorite jokes. I've never seen it written out before, and there is a certain level of "acting it out" that may be missed, but here goes:

On the 30th anniversary of their wedding day, Ralph comes home early from work to find a surprised Sue doing some house work.

Sue asks "Ralph, what are you doing home so early?"

Ralph replies "It's our 30th anniversary, baby. Now run up stairs and get ready. A limo will be here to pick us up in a half-hour for our night on the town. We are going to the city where we are going to have a wonderful dinner at your favorite restaurant. Then we are going to go out dancing just like we did at our wedding. Then I've booked the Honeymoon Suite at the nicest hotel in the city where we are going to do it all night long...just like we did 30 years ago."

Sue can't believe her ears. This is exactly what she wanted for an anniversary gift. She runs to their room to pack and change for the big night.

The night goes just as planned. Wonderful limo ride into the city. Extravagent meal with Champagne. Hours of dancing until they were two sweaty rags!

After dancing, Ralph says "OK, ready hon? Back to the hotel and we are going to do it ALL NIGHT LONG. Just like we did 30 years ago."

Sue can't be happier. This is a dream come true.

In the hotel room. Ralph starts to undress. Clothes are strewn everywhere. Eyeglasses are thrown onto the nightstand. Then he says "Lemme take a quick shower, babe. You get undressed and get into the bed, and when I come out...all night long. Just like we did 30 years ago."

He jumps in the shower while Sue gets undressed and jumps into bed. She is so excited. All night long. "Wow" she thinks. "We haven't done that in 30 years...I can't wait."

Then she gets worried. "Wow" she thinks "We haven't done that in 30 years...I don't know if I'm in that kind of shape anymore."

So she starts to limber up. She's stretching and doing mild calisthenics right there on the bed. A couple of jumping jacks, some squat thrusts. You know...just to get the blood going.

Then she lays on her back and takes her left leg and stretches it over her left shoulder until it is almost parallel to her body. Just stretching an inch or two more, her left foot suddenly gets stuck in the headboard behind her.

Damn...she's stuck. And she's got no leverage to pull her foot out from between the slats. She lays there for a minute thinking of what to do when she decides to take her right leg and swing it up so that she can push off the headboard with it.

So she swings her right leg over her right shoulder and wham! Her right foot also gets stuck in the headboard.

It's at this moment that the shower ends and Ralph walks out of the bathroom. He looks at his wife on the bed and says:

"Honey. What the hell are you doing? Comb your hair and put your teeth back in. You look like an asshole!"

I HATE...

...the idiots at Best Buy.

Went down there yesterday to get XM Radio installed in Gia's car. We made the appointment over a week ago and specified that we were installing it in a 2006 MiniCooper.

Guy told us it would take about an hour.

So I pick up her car and get to the Best Buy about 15 minutes prior to my appointment. The dude in installations seemed pretty competent at this point. Filled out some forms, dropped off my keys and I was ready to do some shopping and grab a bite to eat. Just a little something to take up the hour, ya know.

I get a call on my cell from Eric (the installation dude) about an hour later. I'm thinking "Great...all done. That was a piece of cake!"

That's when he asked me where I put the keys to the Cooper.

I'm a little flabbergasted, so I respond "What? You haven't even started yet?"

He says he can't start until he finds the keys. I tell him that I put them right on the counter next to the XM box that the radio came in. I hear him rumbling around and then the tell-tale jingle of keys.

"Oh...I must have put them in the box after you left. OK, give me about an hour and I'll have it done for you."

Great. Now I get to spend another hour at the mall shopping for things I don't really need and/or want.

I somehow manage to wander around the mall without killing myself or anyone else for the hour and then I head over to Best Buy.

I walk in the installation bay and "Eric" tells me that I have a problem. Fuck!

He tells me that one of the FM converter cables that he needed wasn't in stock. You see with the BMW/Coopers there is a round jack that is needed as opposed to the square jack that he had in stock. I'm really not sure exactly what he was talking about, but it sounded like he had the wrong equipment.

I'm failing to see how this is MY problem at this point and I tell him just that. "Well, Eric...just hop into one of your Geek Squad vehicles out front and get me the part YOU should have already had in stock from one of your other stores. There. MY Problem solved."

He gives me about 4 or 5 reasons why he can't do that, but I'm not really listening. I'm just picturing him lying in a coffin right now.

After he has given me all my options, none of which were choking him to death, WE decide that I have to go to one of the other stores and pick up the part in question and bring it back to HIM so HE can finish the installation.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

But what am I going to do...so I do it.

I will say that he must have recognized the murderous look in my eyes when I got back, because he did finish up the installation in about 5 minutes.

Still. It took about 3 and 1/2 hours for a job that should have been done in about 45 minutes. I fucking hate Best Buy!

Am I bleeding?

Because I just got tagged. By Kat.

Really not a fan of these thingies, but what the hey...here goes:

A- Available or single? Um, how do I answer this since they mean the same thing. I am neither Available nor Single. Methinks there is something wrong with the question. C'mon people...think about it.

B- Best Friend? I've never really believed in the concept of a "Best Friend". I'm lucky enough to be blessed with many, many great friends so let's leave it at that.

C- Cake or Pie? Neither...no sweet tooth. How about potato chips?

D- Drink of Choice? Depends on the occassion. Arizona Green Tea is yummy for those daytime hours, and I drink an awful lot of water. Beer - Guinness. Whiskey - Red Breast Irish Whiskey. Wine - any Amarone (red) or Gewurztaminer (white). Tequila - the good stuff. Cocktail - a variation on the Vesper. Hendrick's Gin with Lillet Blanc and an orange peel. James Bond used a lemon peel and added vodka to his in Casino Royale. But he's a girly man.

E- Essential Item? Baseball cap.

F- Favorite Color? Green or NY Yankee pinstripe Blue.

G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms, I guess. If they are sour. I like-a the sour.

H- Hometown? Yeah, like I would tell you.

I- Indulgence? Good Whiskey and bad porn.

J- January or February? Ugh...neither.

K- Kids? Nope.

L- Life is incomplete without? Baseball and Gia.

M- Marriage Date? We'll get back to you. Probably sometime in the spring of 2008 (or Autumn).

N- Number of Siblings? 5. 4 Sisters and 1 Brother.

O- Oranges or apples? Apples, I hate peeling oranges.

P- Phobias/Fears? Swimming in the ocean. Rats.

Q- Favorite Quote? "In the wild, there is no health care. In the wild, health care is, "Ow, I hurt my leg. I can't run. A lion eats me and I'm dead." Well, I'm not dead. I'm the lion, you're dead!" - Dwight Shrute (Ok..ok. It's not really my favorite quote, because I don't have one. It was just something I cut and pasted from IMDB. I just thought it was funny. Sorry.)

R- Reason to Smile? Syd and Sammi. Two of the most awesome cats on the planet.

S- Season? Autumn, or Spring...or maybe Summer. Yeah. One of those.

T- Tag three people - let's not and pretend we did.

Um...was it supposed to end with "T"?

Out with the old...

...and in with the new. Blogger, that is.

Seems to have gone on without a hitch.

Thinking about mucking around with my template as well. Picking a new format, moving things about...that kind of thing.

Can anyone speak from experience? Is this sort of silly playing around worthwhile, or will I be spending most of my time getting pissed at the process? Hmmm?

Any advice would be much appreciated as I am still a relative newbie at this shit.

Tomorrow: (drumroll please) NEW POSTS!!! LOTS TO TALK ABOUT!!! MORE CAPITAL LETTERS AND EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!

Golden Globe Alert!

I hate the Golden Globes with a passion. Here is my post from last year explaining why:

False Golden Idols

By B.E. Earl

01/19/2006 8:28 PM EST



Hey kids! As you may have figured out, I'm a bit of a film fan. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that I like to watch the annual award shows to see who takes down the big prizes each year. I was a little bored the other night watching the Golden Globe Awards when I decided to find out who/what the Hollywood Foreign Press Association is. If you are not familiar with the group, the HFPA is the organization that determines the nominees for each award category and subsequently votes on the winners for the Golden Globes. But who are they? I mean it never made much sense to me. Are they Hollywood press reporting in foreign countries about the entertainment industry? Are they foreign press working in Hollywood? Who are these people that the media focuses so much weight on around award season? Surely it must be an astoundingly large number of critics and reporters from around the world weighing in on the best that Hollywood has to offer. Hundreds if not thousands of dedicated men and women working tirelessly to hand out awards that are the pre-cursor to the big daddy of all entertainment awards, the Oscars. Right? Wrong!

The HFPA is a non-profit organization of somewhere around 90 international journalists based in Hollywood whose purpose is to disseminate information about film and television to a world-wide audience. 90 JOURNALISTS! Are you kidding me? These 90 men and women are the only voices and votes for an award as seemingly important as the Golden Globes? Now don't get me wrong. The HFPA does some fine work. In 2005 they donated $1 million to various arts and cultural programs around the world in an effort to further the advance of the film and television. They also donated $250 thousand to the Red Cross. That's very nice.

Where do they get the funding for their charitable work, as well as the funding needed to run the non-profit organization, you may ask. Well, they receive a sizable licensing fee from the networks to run their annual event...the Golden Globe Awards. They also receive licensing fees from various cable networks for allowing them to report from the red carpet. Hm-mm. So let me get this straight. The HFPA (all 90 of them) collect licensing fees from an award show that they run in an effort to award excellence in a field that is already swimming with too many awards. And they give out those awards in the award show that they sponsor, which in turn provides them with the revenue that they need to keep handing out awards the following year? Holy self-sustaining strokefest, Batman! And I thought I used to get confused with The Terminator and all it's time-line questions. Wait...how was John Connor born if he needed to send his own father back in time to be with his mother in the first place, and, and...system failure!

This is bogus, my friends. It's just another session of mutual masturbation that the media machine that is Hollywood has fashioned out of thin air. It made me sick to read about this, and if I ever see another weepy, blathering idiot of a winner (like Felicity Huffman this year) crying about how this is the greatest night of their lives I may actually vomit on my television screen. "You really, really like me...all 90 of you! You really, really like me!" Actually, it's possible that only 25 of the members liked you, honey. Or whatever number of voters that is needed to beat out whomever came in second place. What a piece of crap award this is!

Once again, I applaud the charitable work that the HFPA does. But they could easily raise that much and more by just asking all the nominees for a little some-some in an effort to elevate their public relations profile. You telling me that Harrison Ford can't come up with a good chunk of the million donated last year all by himself? And let us not kid ourselves. Most of the money isn't going to help poverty and starvation in Africa, or to help relief efforts in India. No, most of the money is handed out in the form of financial grants to cultural institutions to help further their own causes. There is some good stuff in there, but most of it isn't of the do-or-die type of relief.

You can find out more about the HFPA on their website www.HFPA.org, that is if you can stomach it. Me...I'm done with this award show in the future. I always thought that some of the choices were a bit odd (C'mon...have you seen Geena Davis in "Commander in Chief"), but I always thought there was some kind of integrity about the awards themselves. I don't know what goes into the voting for the Academy Awards, and I'm sure it ain't perfect. I just don't know if I have the heart to do any research on that right now. Sigh.

Oh, and if you were wondering why we placed a picture of the stunning Scarlett Johansson (decked out in stunning scarlet, thank you very much) at the top of this article, it wasn't so that we could make some blatantly obvious double entendre about the Golden Globes and her outfit. I just think she's got some nice hoo-has.

Scrabble-fest

OK...so after work today, I called Gia to let her know that I was coming over in a half-hour or so to go out to dinner. As I hung up I started thinking about Scrabble and how much I would love to play it tonight. Some kind of World Championship Scrabble match was on ESPN2 earlier, and I guess it created an itch.

So I began thinking about places I could stop off to by the game since I don't have it and I was pretty sure that Gia didn't have it. K-Mart was on the way...hmmm. Toys 'R Us was a bit too far...lemme think. That's when the phone rang.

It was Gia.

This is exactly what she said: "Hey...I was thinking. Do you have Scrabble? I could really be into just staying in tonight with some take-out Chinese and a nice game of Scrabble."

Can you believe that shit? And she didn't even see the stupid Scrabble show on TV earlier!

We may actually be the same person somehow divided into two. That's how in-tune with each other we have been lately. A bit sickening, eh?

She won (by the way). 233-228. Yeah, we both suck at it...but we were watching TV at the same time, so we weren't at our best.

Still adapting...

...to life with an iPod.

But I heard three great songs, in a row, on the radio the other day and somehow remembered all of them so I could purchase them on iTunes. They were:

1. Get Myself Arrested - Gomez

2. Beercan - Beck

3. Perpetual Blues Machine - Keb' Mo'

You may wonder, as I wondered, what glorious radio station would play 3 wildly eclectic songs like this in a row.

Well, my friends, it was one of NYC's local public radio stations out of Fordham University WFUV-FM. It's 90.7 on my radio dial, but they also stream on the internet. It is really the one and only place that I go to in my search to hear new music.

Public radio is not dead! It just needs a little help from all of us, so support your local sheriff...and public radio station.

Good advice

Courtesy of The Green Parrot Bar in Key West.

Six weird things

Normally I don't do these things, but Lizzie was feeling kinda invisible so...

Here is my entry into this weird "six weird things" about yourself game that is all the rage with the kids these days.

- I have a real difficult time spelling "weird". Well not just "weird", but any word that contains the letters "e" and "i" next to one another. I know there was some real simple grade school rhyme that most of us learned at the tender age of 7 or so which works like 99.2% of the time, but it is still a bit lost on my. Never looks right until I spell check it. Wierd, huh?

- My middle toe on my left foot is the longest on said foot. It is a constant source of ridicule by some and disgust by a choice few. I try to wear sandals or flip-flops as often as possible to rub it (the middle toe) in their faces. Hah!

- I have an irrational fear of the water. As in "swimming in it". Not pools or hot tubs, mind you. Those I dig. I'm talking about oceans, bays or lakes. Anything that has any kind of life living below the surface. I don't like that. Not one bit.

- I bite my fingernails. But only two of them. The middle finger on my left hand and the ring finger on right hand. Seems arbitrary, right? Well I used to bite all ten (and sometimes my toenails when I was younger and more, ya know, flexible), but quite a few years ago I decided to restrict my nail-biting to just those two digits. Now all of my fury and anger is directed to those two nails alone. I call them my "bad fingers".

- I love anyone with any kind of harmless physical abnormality. Nothing that is going to affect their everyday life, but just the little things that make my life more enjoyable. Big, bulbous nose...love it. A bit cross-eyed? You made my day! Big birthmark or pencil eraser-sized nubbin somewhere on your head...I can't stop staring. I love combinations too. Give me a cross-eyed, big-nosed, nubbin-sportin' sales clerk while I am doing my Christmas shopping and I will be smiling for the rest of the day.

I tag...um, NO ONE with this thing. Maybe the madness will stop here. Just maybe.

Edit - I guess I have a hard time counting to six as well. Only five weird things up there. Oh well.

Signs, signs, everywhere the signs

One of the recurring themes of my trip to Key West this year was running into funny signs. Now you have to remember that I took these with my crappy camera on my cell phone, so hopefully you will be able to read them all.

Hippies beware....you must use the side door at the Green Parrot!


We passed by this warning every day. It was on the gate behind a gay nightclub just off of Duval Street. I laughed every time I saw it. When I was drunk I would act out the poor victim getting caught in the gate with a really effeminate "Aaaaagggghhh".


Here is a sign outside of a bathroom that had the original "Men's Room" sign missing. Stick figures rule!


There is a serious chicken problem in Key West. This little buggers are everywhere and the roosters don't just crow at sunrise, my friends...it happens all day and all fucking night. Some of the locals are taking action.


And no matter where you go, bad spelling and grammar is just plain funny!

Still wasted...

...but checking my e-mail, so I figure I would post something old from my last trip to Key West. So without further ado:

Tales Of The Black Sock (originally posted on www.slydesblog.com)
By B.E. Earl
12/16/2005 7:51 PM EST

Hey kids! It’s Earl again with some non-movie related silliness for your reading entertainment. I took my usual early December vacation last week to do some additional damage to my liver, and this year’s hot spot was Key West, Florida. I’ve been to Key West a number of times of the past dozen years or so, and its’ always one of my favorite places to be. Great weather, great restaurants and bars, friendly locals and there is sure to be some kind of weirdness going on whenever I’m there. I’ve seen Jimmy Buffett perform on the street, I’ve seen drag queens galore, I’ve seen manatees up close and personal, but nothing…nothing prepared me for what I saw this past week at Fantasy Fest.

Let me give you a little background on Fantasy Fest in Key West. Fantasy Fest is their off-kilter version of something like Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnivale in Rio. It’s a chance for many, many people to come down and unwind in the warm sun and warmer nightlife of Key West and dance to their own tune, so to speak. Mind you, Key West is more than a little friendly to those with an alternative lifestyle, so you can imagine what happens when the city throws a party and asks everyone to REALLY let loose.

I’ve never been to Fantasy Fest before. I love Key West, but I prefer it during the down times when the streets aren’t clogged with tourists and there is no need for reservations at Louie’s Backyard. It’s just how I like/liked New Orleans. Great town, but I would never go during Mardi Gras. I like to actually be able to get into the bars and restaurants rather than shuffling along the sidewalks with all the other sweaty drunks. I had not planned on going to Fantasy Fest this year either, however, Mother Nature pointed her magic wand and made Fantasy Fest come to me.

You see, it was supposed to be the week before Halloween like it is scheduled every year. Costume parties, parades, Pimps & Ho’s parties, leather fetish nights, toga galas, the works. It happens every year culminating with the fat lady singing on the Sunday prior to Halloween. Hurricane Wilma begged to differ. While the hurricane hit the little island four days before the Fest was supposed to start, the city was a few feet underwater and there was no way it could support the influx of Fest-ers. When I read that city officials were planning on re-scheduling the OddFest, I knew that it would be during my trip down there. I mean I just KNEW it! I viewed this scheduling change with equal part dread and fascination. What we saw down there also turned out to be equal parts dread and fascination.

The official website for Fantasy Fest warns that nudity is illegal in the city of Key West and that all revelers were encouraged to remain clothed at all times. Apparently body paint is ok for the ladies as long as your privates remain private. The first night of Fantasy Fest, this seemed to be the case. As the days wore on, however, all bets were off. On Day 2 we saw a woman of 45 or so pedaling down the street on her bike wearing nothing but a smile. The cops didn’t seem to mind, and oh yeah…it was still 11:30 in the morning! Lady Godiva was getting the party started early.

I’ve never been to a nudist colony or beach before, but I had heard horror stories of flabby old men and women, most of whom you would prefer to see wearing quite a few layers of clothes. This describes the majority of those that chose to be naked during Fantasy Fest. Whoops…there goes grandma and grandpa, and…ouch…she’s actually wearing more than him. How does he keep that black sock on? Yeah…you read it. One black sock. That scene played itself over and over again during our time at Fantasy Fest.

Oh sure. There were some attractive folks who decided on going au natural, but they were few and far between. There was one woman we kept running into who was mostly nude and very attractive and she seemed content with just standing around while everyone under the moon posed for pictures with her. To that young lady I say well done. Most of them, however, liked going to the gym as much as they disliked wearing clothing. Don’t get me wrong. I had a pisser down there! These people had no hang-ups whatsoever and they all looked like they were having a wonderful time. I often wondered how they purchased drinks since none of them had any place to put money, but they all seemed to be appropriately liquored up so maybe folks were just giving up booze. I dunno.

So if you are ever thinking of attending Fantasy Fest, let me plant this little thought in your head. Go down to the local supermarket sometime during the day when all the retirees are out shopping for kitty litter and prune juice and picture all of them wandering the streets of Key West wearing g-strings and the aforementioned black sock. If you are able to keep your lunch down, then take a trip and keep your sense of humor because a sense of humor is all that you need to keep you going. Oh…and one black sock of course.

Wasting Away Again....

I'm off tomorrow morning for my vacation. If you need me, I'll be here. Check out the webcam daily to watch me in action. I'm the chubby dude with the scruffy beard, ripped cargo shorts and tattered Titleist baseball cap. Er, wait...that could describe most of the locals there.

Anyway, it's the greatest bar in the world. Just a few feet away from Mile Marker Zero on US1. It is the first (or last) bar on that famed roadway. Been around since 1890 or so in one form or another.

The jukebox is the stuff of legends, as are the bartenders. The same crew has been there forever, well, at least since I started partying there in 1994.

The live music is fantastic for such a dive bar as well. Really great blues, rock and funk bands play here all the time. I'm looking forward to seeing the Eric Culberson Blues Band, Harper, Corey Harris and Sleepy LaBeef while I'm down there.

I'm also updating my links section to include the Green Parrot Bar Blog. I really just can't say enough about this place. And the house that we are renting is on the next blog.

Danger, Will Robinson....Danger.

I'll catch y'all when I get back. Maybe I'll post a few pics while I'm down there, ya never know. Ta ta!

I give the Thanks now....

Just a few things I am thankful for this season.

- Sliding Glass Doors - This deserved to be mentioned twice. Because every once in a while a loved one will drunkenly walk right into one because they don't see it. Maybe it will happen on your birthday. Maybe, just maybe, it will be the funniest thing you will ever see in your life. God, I love sliding glass doors!

- Jeff Bridges - Because he should have won an Academy Award for The Big Lebowski. His work in the bathtub with the "nice marmot" was priceless. The Dude abides.

- December in Key West - Yeah, I know I'm repeating things....whatever. Slyde keeps talking about his three week vacation this coming December. Yeah, but is he gonna spend it drinking in cool bars in a semi-tropical setting? Don't think so! HA!

- Blogging - when I'm supposed to be working. Fuck!

- All of my nieces and nephews - One of them drew me a birthday card this past weekend with gas coming out of ass with this little birthday message: "Happy Birthday, Uncle Farty Lumpy!" Yeah...that's special. Don't even ask me where Farty Lumpy comes from. It had nothing to do with me...initially.

- Guinness - I know I could probably live without it, but who the hell would want to?

- The 12 Bars of Christmas - It's this amazing annual Holiday party that we throw. We visit 12 bars in our little town in one night. A half hour and at least one drink at each place. Plus, we sing the 12 Days of Christmas at each bar. But we only go up to the bar number that we are at. Get it? So at the fifth bar we start with "On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...." and so on. We start out with maybe 20-25 revelers, but by the 8th or 9th bar we usually grow to twice that number. Just from people that are out and think what we are doing is cool. Even though it's not. Actually, it's kinda gay.

Odds and Sods

A couple of things on a lazy Sunday:

- I'm a little distraught at the loss to USC by my beloved Irish. I'm trying not to take it out on random sales clerks or waitresses, but it's hard. Fuckin' Trojans!

- Thanksgiving was awesome. I made two different kinds of mashed potatoes to bring to the family dinner. Sour cream and chive mashed spuds with roasted garlic and wasabi. And red-skinned mashed spuds with olive oil, roasted garlic, lemon zest and fresh parsley. The latter got the higher marks, but both were consumed whole-heartedly. Yum!

- One week until my Key West vacation. You all need to be jealous right now. It's always the best time. Ever.

- Gia walked into a sliding glass door last weekend. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. (FYI - no girlfriends were hurt in the making of this post)

How My Brain Met Your Mother

I wrote about the show "How I Met Your Mother" (HIMYM, from here on) a while back on Slyde's blog. I was joking about how they "stole" some dialogue from a previous post of mine. Oh, here...read it, then get back to me.

I Knew Someone Was Reading (posted on www.slydesblog.com)
By B.E. Earl
05/12/2006 11:00 PM EST
Hey kids! Earl here again, while Slyde is vacationing. There is a new show on CBS that I've become a fan of in recent days. It's called How I Met Your Mother and I started watching because I've had this little crush on Alyson Hannigan ever since I started watching Buffy a few years back. It's a harmless bit o' fluffy TV sitcom made watchable mostly by the hilarious turn of Neil Patrick Harris as the suited-up Barney. Funny stuff.

But check out this fishy bit o' dialogue that was used in this past week's episode. The main character, Ted, is bemoaning the fact that he is single because he is too picky with women. He wants the perfect woman, and he goes into deep detail about the type of woman she is. He finishes it up with the following:

Ted: "And she plays bass guitar like Kim Deal from The Pixies."
Marshall: "Or Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth."
Ted: "Any Kim from any cool band, really. Cant' be too picky."

Whoa, whoa, whoa...doesn't that sound a little familiar? Let me refresh your memory from a post of mine back on March 31, 2006. The topic was Sonic Youth and Pauley Perrette, but I originally started the whole thing by talking about Kim Director when I wrote this:

B.E. Earl: "Some of my favorite all-time women have been named “Kim”. Kim Deal from The Pixies, Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth, and I could go on."

Am I being ripped off here by the writers of a major TV show? What the hell! Where is my royalty check?

Actually, the chances that anyone who was a fan of that type of music back in the day were probably fans of both The Pixies and Sonic Youth, and if they were male they most likely had a bit of a thing for the aforementioned Kims. Still, I thought it funny and weird enough to write in about.

OK. Done? Well, they are continuing to amaze me by writing shows that have previously taken place in my brain.

One of my friends has a wife who works in NYC. Her boss hangs out with her all the time. She's an attractive older woman and some of the guys that ride the train with my friend's wife have been calling her "Cougar" for years. Apparently it's a term that applies to any older attractive woman who hangs out in bars or something like that. We've had some fun with the term whenever we see her. Stupid fun.

Well, back in October the writers at HIMYM did an entire episode about Barney's experience in hunting Cougars. Here is a brief write-up on Barney's Blog if you care to read about it.

It doesn't end there. Before my trip to Vegas last month, my only experiences with gambling have been slots in New Orleans, Paradise Island and one ill-advised trip to Atlantic City. When we were in AC, me and my friend each brought a significant amount of cash to gamble with. Why not?

Once we got there we realized that we had no idea what we were doing, so we wound up watching much more than gambling. There was one game that really intrigued me. Lots of Asians playing the game. Dice, dominoes, cards and a whole lot of shouting. They looked like they were having a blast. But I had NO IDEA what was going on. Didn't matter. The more I told the story, the more I embellished the ridiculousness of the game. "Seriously, at one point they did a version of the walnut shell game with a real diamond!"

Well, last week the writers on HIMYM did an episode that took place in AC where Barney winds up playing a made-up game with some of his old Asian gambling buddies with ridiculous rules that looked eerily similar to how I described the game I saw. But funnier!

Anyway, the show is great. I was thinking about it because last night's episode contained a video from a pop song that one of the ladies on the show did when she was a teen. It's hysterical and you can see it here. Believe me...it's worth it.

PS - Yes, I did go there. I referenced a previous post of mine that referenced a previous post of mine. I think I just ripped a hole in the space/time continuum. Oh God! I'm such a geek for writing that last line.

The Biscotti

Hey y'all! This little girl's name to the right is Sammi. She is one of our cats...adorable ain't she?

She got her name because of her messed up left eye. Don't know if you can see it in the picture because I took it with my cell phone camera, but she fought down a raccoon or something when she was a bitty kitten and it healed up a bit glassy.

Hence, Sammi Davis Jr. There's that Gia humor again.

I've been messing with her name since I've met her. It's a long story, but it has gone from Sammi Biscuit to The Biscuit and now to The Biscotti. She answers to all of them.

Oh yeah, right before I took this picture she was asleep between us with one paw on Gia's arm and the other over her eyes. It would have been the cutest picture ever. Goddamn. Camera. Across. The. Room. This is what you get.

You'll get to meet her best friend Syd sometime in the future. He is a lion trapped in a Ragamuffin's body. Rowr.

Ack!

40.

Today.

Ack!

Thrillogy of Terror!

Finishing up our short series of conversations on grand moments at rock concerts. We are up to my experiences at a Radiohead concert that opened up with the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black.

Great name for a band, eh? For those that don't recall, Karen Black is an actress who played some terrific B movie roles in the 70's. Well, she still does some pretty awful B (and C) films to this day. But most folks remember her from the wonderful Burnt Offerings or the made-for-TV tour-de-force (Wow...lots of dashes there) Trilogy of Terror.

In Trilogy of Terror, she played three, well four, roles in three separate little Horror films. The most well known is the tale of the woman who brought home a Zuni Fetish warrior doll that comes to life and viciously attacks her. It's campy and awesome!

Just like the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black. Campy and awesome. I had never even heard of them before the concert, so we made our way upstairs to sit down in the balcony for their act. I was with my brother and two of my friends.

So the lights dim and the band comes out. The women on stage (not sure how many) are dressed all in blue with big flower petals around their heads to give the impression that they are playful, colorful flowers dancing around. Weird, but I've seen weird before so I wasn't too interested.

We start chatting about the band, when I take another look at the ladies. I'm now concentrating on exactly what they are wearing when I realize something. They're nekkid!

Well, they are wearing panties and those ridiculous flower head-dress thingies, but mostly they are just painted blue. Now, let me set one thing straight. Most of them are not attractive women. Not at all. Not necessarily un-attractive, just normal women in an abnormal setting.

But semi-naked women at a rock show is something I really don't pass on. So, I get up to go get a closer look. This would involve a trip downstairs and an ample amount of wading through the humanity that was on the floor. Whatever. Naked women, people!

That's when this conversation takes place:

Me: "Um, does anyone, um, like want a beer or something from downstairs?"

My brother: "Sure, but they sell booze up here I think."

Me: "Yeah, I know, but, um, I just wanna stretch my legs a bit, you know...walk around."

Friend1: "We just came up here to sit down because you said you were tired. Didn't we?"

Me: "Yeah...um, right. I dunno...just getting a little antsy, so I figured I would explore. OK? Anyone want a beer?"

My brother: "What's going on?"

Friend2: "I think he just figured out that the disgusting women on stage are kinda naked, and he wants to go check it out."

Friend1 and my brother at the same time: "They're naked??!!"

They practically fall over themselves trying to get out of the seats as they rush down to the floor ahead of me. We leave Friend2 groaning to himself in his seat about our immaturity. And he is, by far, the youngest of us all.

We were just younger in our heads and in our pants. The way it should be.

Good show, though. I think there were songs and stuff. But there was also beer and blue boobies. Good show, indeed!

Cramped up!

Spent the other night at a lesbian bar, but more on that another time.

Back to our short series of fun moments at rock shows. I think we are up to, yes, The Cramps:

They were playing at CBGB's one night as part of some anniversary celebration. Gotta tell you, nothing brings out the weirdos like a Cramps show at CBGB's. Lots of questionable fishnets and false eyelashes going down, if you know what I mean. The show was great! It was filmed by some independent company to distribute to video, but I've never run across it. A good time was had by all.

At one point during the show, I excused myself from my friends to go to the bar for some more liquid refreshment. I sidled (that's right!) up to the bar next to this mountain of a man. Big dude. Tattoos up and down his arms. Piercings all over his face. Angry look on his face. Wearing a hat that said "Homicide" on it. The wrong guy to mess with.

But I had my drink on, so I say "Hey...nice hat, dude."

He turns and looks down at me with that angry look and says "What did you just say?"

Still undeterred, I repeat myself "NICE HAT, DUDE!"

Then the Grinch transformed right in front of my face. He smiles and says "Thanks! Do you watch the show?"

Now I'm confused. What the hell is he asking? So I ask "What show?"

"Homicide: Life on the Street on NBC" he replies.

"Oh, um, yeah...I've seen it. Good show" I tell him.

"Thanks...we work hard on it" he says. He goes on to tell me that he does some kind of set production or something for the show and he is really proud of it.

Turns out to be the nicest guy in the world. Tells me stories about the cast and the guest stars. Robin Williams was on the pilot episode and he said he spent his entire time on set cracking jokes with the crew. I buy him a beer and we hang out for like a half hour.

When I finally go back to my friends, they tell me that they were watching the whole thing. They thought I was going to get my ass kicked by the biggest dude in the place...and they wanted no part of it. Thanks, guys!

Next: The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black.

Sonic, er, Donut

I've been listening to alot of my old music recently. Ever since I bought my iPod and burned a whole shitload of my old CDs onto the 'puter. I can't even begin to tell you the memories that all that great music has brought up to the surface.

Well, maybe I can begin to tell you. So I am going to start a short series of posts where I will go into excruciating detail about stuff that I thought was funny and/or noteworthy at shows I've been to in the past. OK?

Sonic Youth

I was at a Sonic Youth show at the Roseland Ballroom in NYC some time back in the early 90's with my friend Dave and his girlfriend at the time. She was nice. But she wore like a "little black dress" that would have been more appropriate at a lounge or club than a Sonic Youth show. Anyway. Roseland Ballroom is exactly what the name says...a former ballroom. It's got this series of old iron railings around the perimeter of the old dance floor.

We were hanging in the back of the old dance floor...away from the inevitable moshing that was going to take place closer to the stage. This was just after the "Dirty" album came out and Kool Thing, from their previous album "Goo", was probably their biggest "hit".

When they started this one up, Dave's girlfriend was sitting on the old railing hanging onto one its posts. Well, the whole crowd...I mean the WHOLE CROWD...immediately started to mosh together. Even us old farts in the back. We were instantly separated from Dave's girlfriend on the railing by about 50 feet. We were kind of stuck in that old punk paradigm. Everybody moves...nobody gets hurt!

At one point, I took a look back and I see Dave's poor girlfriend hanging on to her post for dear life while the entire audience swirled and moshed around her. Seriously, all I could think of was Billy Crystal up in that small tree in City Slickers during the stampede scene.

After the crowd calmed down, we made our way back to her. She was crying and really fucking pissed.

I don't think that relationship lasted very much longer. Don't worry. Dave's happily married with two little ones. And our moshing days are long gone. Sigh.

Alice Donut

For a few years, CBGB's was a favorite hangout of mine. I would head there after work on a weeknight with a friend of mine just to catch some great music and hang with the weirdos.

On one such evening, a few us us went to go see a NYC punk band called Alice Donut perform. I had one of their albums and I really dug some of their stuff. They had the longest title to a song that I had ever seen. It was called "The Son of a Disgruntled X-Postal Worker Reflects on His Life While Getting Stoned in the Parking Lot Behind a Winn-Dixie While Listening to Metallica as Loud as He Can" or something like that.

Anyway. The show was boss! Everyone was having a great time. Then they took a little break which afforded us some time to booze it up at the bar.

Then we noticed the drummer from the band come in the front entrance holding a trombone high above his head. As he made his way through the crowd, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. He was carrying a freakin' trombone, fer crissakes!

He gets to the stage and the spotlight hits him. Just him. The rest of the band is still on break. He warms up a bit and then he starts to play. Softly at first, but gradually getting louder. We all recognize the tune...and it's AWESOME!

He's doing a solo of "Helter Skelter" by the Beatles! And it kicked ass! When he got to the "Do you don't you want me to love you" section, he was blasting it out...rocking on his heels! I still hear it in my brain whenever I come across the original version.

It was such a weird and wonderfully unexpected moment at an otherwise fairly normal punk show. Love it!


Next: The Cramps and The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black (intrigued?)

Dear Slyde

Dear Slyde,

This is an open letter to my good friend, Slyde. How ya doin', buddy?

We chatted about this the other day, but I think its time that you shared some of your more embarrassing moments with the rest of the blog-world. You have so many.

I know that some friends and family of yours visit your site. Tough shit!

Time to fess up. You have sooooo many great stories to share. Embarrassing stories. Funny stories. Stories that make me look foolish and hateful. Share those. So I will start with a teaser. Three stories which I won't go into detail about that you could entertain millions with.

Or just me. Either way.

Here goes:

1. The "Road Rage" incident. Surely THIS one will make me look bad, but hey...its fun.

2. Moriarty. He's evil...and he needs to be discussed. Hard!

3. The "Red Lobster" protocol. Might be my favorite. This one is going to take coaxing from all of you.

Three simple stories. They are his, not mine...so don't ask. I was involved in all three, but Slyde was the protagonist. He is the only one who can share. So really...don't ask.

OK...ask. But ask Slyde. Hehehehehehe!

Rage against machines

I know that it's Saturday, and there appears to be some kind of unwritten Blogger rule against new posts on the weekend. Maybe folks actually have lives. Go figure. Not me. Just sitting at Gia's watching Notre Dame vs North Carolina and I felt like posting.

Anyway, I have this odd anti-fascination with anything new. I'm still running an ancient PC via phone line. I drive an old car. I was the last kid on my block to buy a cell phone with a camera. New technology has never really had a hold on me.

But it wasn't until the other day that I decided to join the rest of the modern world and buy an iPod. Yup. It's over for me. The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was the long flights to and fro Las Vegas. Sure, we flew Jet Blue so we had TV to watch, but as I looked around I noticed that 80% of my fellow passengers were happily spending the flight listening to their favorite tunes.

So I went and bought an iPod Nano the other day. Grey, if you must know. It's very itty-bitty. Can't believe that it can hold around 1000 songs. I don't even think there are 1000 songs that I like!

So I spent the evening last night (after Gia went to sleep) burning all my CDs into iTunes and creating playlists and generally having fun. I haven't even listened to anything yet, and I had a blast. I copied over 600 tunes on to this little credit-card sized thing and I still have plenty to go.

Now, I'm on the iTunes website buying songs left and right. See...this is what I feared. I still haven't even really played with my toy yet and I'm hooked.

Next: Tivo! (that was for Slyde)

Vegas, baby???

Alrighty, then. Got back from Vegas last night with a few observances about Sin City that I would like to share with y'all:

• Vegas is awful! Truly hideous. I've never been a fan of these "artificial" cities (like Orlando), and Vegas has to top the charts. Fakeness abounds in historical levels. It's too bright, too loud and too stupid for me to deal with ever again. I did have a good time because of the friends that I was with, and a rockin' Jimmy Buffett concert (Mickey Hart from The Grateful Dead and Bill Payne from Little Feat were on hand) on Saturday night. But that's the only reason I had a good time. Vegas is awful!
• I was ready to punch any and all of those folks flicking their little "escort" cards at me while walking on the Strip. I dreamed of a gigantic version of myself stomping through the strip, kicking and stepping on all those little fuckers! Man, that would have been sweet.
• The cab lines are ridiculous. Everywhere! After we found our bags at the airport, we walked outside to see a 1/2 mile long, meandering stream of visitors on the cab line. It took roughly 45 minutes to get in a cab. To a lesser extant at the casinos, but there was still a considerable wait. No fun there.
• Had dinner at Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill on Friday. Not bad, but I've never been to a restaurant before that delivered our food in less than 10 minutes after we ordered it. Entrees, I'm talking about! Veal chops, steaks and pork loin medallions. Couldn't help but think that we had just eaten heated-up food. Weird. We walked into the place at 9PM and were done by 9:45. Just weird.
• Made up for that dinner with a great steak dinner at Smith & Wollensky on Sunday night. Yeah, I know. Go to Vegas and eat at a steakhouse that is a standard right here in NY. But we tried to get into a few others like Delmonico's and Prime. They just didn't have any reservations early enough for us. And they sat us before the Euro-trash that came in before us with a hooker. The Euro-trash complained, but our waiter said "Yeah, right! Like we're gonna sit the hooker before you guys." Good man!
• Saturday, we were up and drinking at 9AM thanks to an early start to the Notre Dame game. Don't think I could handle that on a weekly basis. Wait, wait...yeah. I probably could handle it.
• Not a lot of great sports bars in Vegas. Not that I'm complaining that much. I kinda figured there wouldn't be, but then I thought about the gambling angle and it seems that they would be a natural. Went to one about 3 miles south of the Strip called Steiner's that was pretty good. Of course, they put that goddamn video poker game on top of the bar wherever you go. Evil temptation when you are sitting in a bar for 5 hours, drinking and watching football. Yeah...I donated. I'm weak.

So, I don't think I'm going back. I can understand the allure of the place, but it's just not me. On vacation I like nice restaurants with a warm ocean breeze. Great nightlife at unique and funky bars. Lots of local color and flavor.

Therefore, in December, I am heading back to my favorite haunt. Key West. Purists will say that it's no longer the piece o' wonderful weirdness that it used to be (I beg to differ...read about my last trip there here. It's in the archives section. Second story down in December 2005. Can't link to the exact page. Sorry!), but it still is a blast every single time I go there. I'm sure that this year won't disappoint as my girl is going with me. Nice! Can't wait!

"Good" porn.

So y'all know I love my lady love very much...and yes, it's about time I stopped with the whole (shiny!) thing.

Even though I say it in my mind ever time I think of her. I'll just say it in my head every time I type it from now on. Okay?

She doesn't really care for my porn collection, though. Not that she disapproves of porn, in general. Quite the contrary. She is actually way more into it than I am. She just fancies BETTER porn than I have in my house. Gotta respect a woman like that.

And not that I have any pride in my porn collection. Most of it was bought with my head down in some Adult Shop hoping not to bump into anyone I know. She just doesn't care for the stuff I have.

The other night she was bartending at her restaurant when I came in for Monday Night Football. She was spending the night with me and she wanted me to run out and buy some "good" porn for us to enjoy that evening. Of course she said this in front of a great many people that we both know including the parents of a friend of ours.

She has no censor button in her head. None.

As I've previously stated, our idea of "good" porn is pretty different. I simply need attractive females who can fake a good orgasm. Maybe large to extra-large boobs on said attractive female, but that is purely optional. She needs to have her mind blown. She has high standards. Just reference her taste in men. Yeah.

Anyway, I was in no mood to run out to a sex shop at that hour, and I'm slightly embarrassed that it all came up in front of our friends, so I told her I would finance her trip the next day to buy us some "good" porn...something she is into. Maybe a sex toy or two (see Steven Novak's article about this shit here). Something to spice it up a bit...not that we need any spicing up, but what the hey.

So after she spends roughly three times the amount of cash I gave her, we wound up with 4 brand-spanking (well...not spanking) new DVDs, a new vibrator (cute little fella shaped like a dolphin...awww) and a sex toy for both of us that I am too ashamed to describe here. WAY too ashamed to describe here. Let's just say it did the trick. Over and over and over again. Wow!

It's been a couple of days and we still are having a rough time walking around. This is not meant to be boastful in any way. Well, maybe a little...but those things we bought surely have found their way into the bedroom Hall of Fame. Or the living room, in our case. Too much sharing?

The porn was really "good" too. And we only got through one DVD! Janine Lindemulder starred in it, and my girl bought it because she knows how much I dig women with tattoos.

Did I mention how much I love her?

Editor's note - I've been hemming and hawing for a few hours now about posting this. Is it too personal? Is her mother going to read this? Is Slyde gonna be pissed off I never financed one of his trips to the Sex Shop? All these things were swimming in my head. Finally, I just said "Fuck it!". And if any of my family reads this...it was all fiction. I swear!

Vegas, baby!

Going to Las Vegas for the very first time this coming weekend.

Any thoughts on what to do, and what I should definitely stay away from?

Hmmmm...haaah?

Ease his pain.

Some of you may recall a little discussion we had on purchasing birth control here on these pages. For you newbies, here is the link.

A few of you (you know who you are) suggested that I ease my embarrassment by going hog-wild and just buying every little heinous thing that they have at the drug store along with my rubbers (always hated that term). Ease the pain, so to speak.

Gotta tell ya, the other stuff ain't so embarrassing. Here's my story:

I was heading to the drugstore the other day on my way to my lady love's (shiny!) house. She has caught my cold (ya mess with da bull, ya get da horns!) so I wanted to be sure to buy her the proper meds she needed to fend it off with. I'm good like that!

So I call her up and ask her what she wants. We settle on some things and then she says "Oh...would you mind picking me up some feminine products?" Ooooookkkkaaaaayyyy!

She wanted the variety pack of tampons...you know, regular and heavy flow. But not the kind with deodorant. Apparently that shit can mess you up. Who knew? And she wanted some winged maxi-pads. The heavy-flow/overnight type. I thought she was pulling my leg at this point. Nope...she was serious. Oh yeah, and she wanted some shampoo and conditioner. Fah! I laugh at buying shampoo and conditioner. Laugh at you, I say!

I'm cool! I waltz (that's right!) into the store with my SHOPPING LIST FROM HELL and I get to work. Couldn't find the variety pack of the non-deodorized tampons, so I had to punt and get two packages. Cool. The pads were a little harder to find. For some reason, they only had the overnight shit way on the bottom shelf towards the back. Wouldn't that really piss off some crazy lady who really needed them and was experiencing cramping and back pains from her monthly visit from Flo? Having to bend over like that? It sure pissed me off, and I'm a dude!

Anyway, once my basket was properly filled with embarrassing feminine products I see that my retarded friends are back at the checkout counter. Great! Wonder-Retarded-Twins Power...activate! Form of...a dumb blonde. Shape of...a bucket of water. Never understood the whole "water" thing, but it would be a step up the evolutionary chain for either of these nimrods.

I decided not to risk messing with Retard #2's change-making skills and I paid for the entire she-bang on my debit card. Nipped that problem in the ass, ya know what I mean? Still took the stoopid retard forever.

You know what? Wasn't embarrassed at all. She could have included anal-wart medicine, hemmorroid cream and halitosis pills and I would have been fine. In fact, I could have handled all that while farting "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson AND wiping my nose on my sleeve and I would have been fine.

Anything but condoms. Anything but that!

What did I see? Where have I been?

It's now Week 2 of the famous Earl vs. Chest Cold battle. Thus far Chest Cold is kicking my ass, but I hope to make a strong recovery in the fourth quarter.

So a few weeks ago I was in the midst of a car ride with my lady love (shiny!) when I popped in some music of my own that I had brought with me. We usually listen to her wonderfully eclectic selection o' tunes that she keeps on her iPod, but we were heading into the city so I decided to bring some CDs. Change of pace type shit.

Turns out we both love "Quadrophenia" by The Who. I mean, really love it! This is an album that I have listened to more times in my life than I have masturbated. Well...um, maybe not that much, but a whole lot.

I have gone through a number of copies of it. I (meaning my older brother) had the original album when I was real young. I then remember buying at least two copies on cassette...as I kept wearing them out. Then, when CDs hit, it was one of the first that I bought. I also bought some CD by The Kentucky Headhunters and "Attack of the Killer B's" by Anthrax on that trip to the store, so there is no accounting for taste. I then lost those CDs on vacation somewhere and had to re-purchase them at some point years later. I've spent some dough on "Quadrophenia", kids.

Oooh...oooh. I even went to see The Who at Madison Square Garden when they played the whole album on their anniversary/retirement/comeback tour a few years back. Phil Daniels (the actor who starred in the film version of the album) was even on hand to narrate the show. And Billy Idol was there to play Ace Face and sing "Bellboy". Awesome!

Anyway, for some reason this album above all the other albums by The Who really made an impression on me. I guess because I became a fan of it in my early teens and I was real uncomfortable with myself back then. I still am, to a certain degree. But Pete's lyrics really hit home as he was writing about the same kind of things that we all go through now and again...especially in our teen years.

I also like the arrangement of the songs with Pete and Roger going back and forth as the different voices inside our narrator's head. It's just a perfect album. Here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs on it. Roger does most of the singing with Pete chiming in a few times. Great stuff.

Enjoy!

Sea and Sand
by Pete Townshend

Here by the sea and sand
Nothing ever goes as planned,
I just couldn't face going home
It was just a drag on my own.
They finally threw me out
My mother got drunk on stout,
My dad couldn't stand on two feet,
As he lectured about morality.
Now I guess the families complete,
With me hanging round on the street
Or here on the beach.

The girl I love
Is a perfect dresser,
Wears every fashion
Gets it to the tee.
Heavens above,
I got to match her
She knows the style
She wants her man to be
Leave it to me.

My jacket's gonna be cut slim and checked
Maybe a touch of seersucker with an open neck
I ride a GS scooter with my hair cut neat
I wear my wartime coat in the wind and sleet.

I see her dance
Across the ballroom
UV light making stars shine
On her smile.
I am the face,
She has to know me,
I'm dressed up better than anyone
Within a mile.

So how come the other tickets look much better?
Without a penny to spend they dress to the letter.
How come the girls come on oh so cool
Yet when you meet 'em, every one's a fool.

Come sleep on the beach
Keep within my reach
I just want to die with you here
I'm feeling so high when you're near.
I'm wet and I'm cold
But thank God I ain't old
Why didn't I ever say what I mean?
I should have split home at fifteen
There's a story that the grass is so green,
What did I see?
Where have I been?

Nothing is planned, by the sea and the sand!

Pin the tail on the donkey

The "donkey" being me!

OK...due to the numerous (two that I know of) requests to tell the blog-world which celebrity I look like the most, I have decided to comply. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer to this question. Let's take it in stages.

There are times late at night after I've had my drink on that I really look like this guy. Of course that's how I look in my primordial brain. When I think even the hottest ladies around want themselves a piece o' Earl. Sorry ladies! This prize is taken!

Of course, when I wake up the next morning I look a hell of a lot more like this guy. Especially the hair. I can't seem to grow my hair long, it just seems to grow outwards. And in the morning, especially after a good night out, I tend to resemble Rev. Jim an awful lot.

My lady love (shiny!) wishes I looked like this guy. Hey, but if wishes were fishes we'd all be Pope, right? Huh? I don't even know what that meant.

I guess there are times when I kinda look like this guy. Pudgy and pasty, yeah baby! That's me. We are pretty close to the same age as well, so we got that going for us. I look much better in drag, though. Had to be honest.

I've heard that I sound exactly like this guy. I don't know if it's true or not because I have no ear for that shit. But I've heard it from more than one person. OK...it was one person who said it and my lady love (shiny!) agreed with him.

To be truthful...I have heard more than once in my life that I kinda look like this guy. His name is Charlie Steiner and he is a sports radio host and former ESPN personality. The beard, the glasses, the Jewish nose...and I'm Irish Catholic! I met a few of his old ESPN compadres once a few years back. Stuart Scott, Rich Eisen and Dan Patrick. And even they thought I looked like Steiner.

Dammit! I'm gonna get drunk tonight so I can look like that first guy again!

In my head.

At least for a little while.

Cough, cough...

Feeling a bit under the weather today. Just a chest cold, but I'm the worst sick person in the world so everything is magnified.

Just wanted to give/drop the names of two celebrities that we ran into in our past two trips to the city. The first was Bob Balaban. He was waiting for his car in the same parking garage we were parked in last week. It was a very un-eventful meeting. I pointed at him and said "Hey, Bob Balaban! How are you?" He said "Great. Thanks", and then he moved on.

The second was Danielle Brisebois. For those of you who don't remember her, she was the bushy eye-browed Stephanie on "All in the Family". She has left the world of acting to concentrate on her musical career with some success. I have to admit that I didn't recognize her. We were coming down from our hotel room on Saturday. When we got to the lobby, she and her two friends were heading up. I was staring at her chest, because...well, it was there. But my lady love (shiny!) recognized her right away. Had no doubt, and that's all the confirmation I needed.

Oh yeah, and I was briefly mistaken for a celebrity on Saturday also. We stayed at a hotel directly across the street from the theater where Chicago is playing, and my lady love's (shiny!) uncle performs in the show. So we headed across the street, talked to an usher (Not Usher...who is currently perfoming as Billy Flynn...he was sick that day) and we were told to head down into the musician's area to find him. As it turns out, he was heading out right at that time so we didn't have to look too hard for him.

So as were are coming out of the tunnel back to the front of the theater, I was the first one out of the gate. There were these two Asian women with autograph books and pens waiting for us. Their eyes lit up when they saw me and they raised their pens and books for us to sign, but I had to let them down with a soft "Sorry...I'm nobody."

Sigh. Maybe someday, Asian ladies....maybe someday!

God Warrior!

I don't know if any of you were lucky enough to see this last year. If not, lemme splain for the un-initiated.

There is this crap show on one of the crap networks called "Wife Swap" or something like that. Anyway, this one show had this 500+ pound, ultra-Christian maniac swap places with a real sweet, Wiccan astrologer (or something equally opposite to the crazy lady).

Wackiness ensued! That's what the point of the show is, I guess.

But the real kicker was the crazy lady's reaction when she finally got home. That's what the clip above shows. She went nuts. It was the best fucking thing ever put on television! EVER!

So I actually saw this episode live because I was spending the night at Mom's house and her and my sister love the show. It's an awful show, but I had seen previews for this particular episode and I was interested enough to sit with them and watch it. Sooooo glad I did!

My sister has a bit of a wacky sense of humor, so she went to the local mall and had a "GOD WARRIOR" t-shirt made up for me. Simple black with large white letters. It's awesome! I don't believe I had ever worn it outside my house, though.

Until yesterday.

Wore it under a sweatshirt when I went to visit my lady love (shiny!) at her restaurant. Sat at the bar for a bit before taking off my sweatshirt (dead sexy) to reveal my God Warrior-ness! Thought it would be a fun night of explaining the shirt, or pretending that I actually was THAT into the man/woman upstairs. You know...just for kicks!

HOLY CRAP! I got so many snide or weirdo looks from people! All from a goddamned t-shirt! It was both hysterical and uncomfortable at the same time. This one guy at the bookstore across the street actually asked if I was a Warrior for God or if I was just a dude that fought against gods. Hmm...never thought of that before. Guess the shirt is a bit ambigious.

Nothing causes folks to judge you more than when you either A) display your religion openly or B) poke fun at someone else's religion in the same manner.

And here I was just making fun at a dumb show with a crazy lunatic on it. Go figure.

Oh the shame!

So, I'm rapidly approaching 40.

Think I've mentioned that before, but it bears repeating. The thing about it is that you would think that a distinguished gentleman like myself would get over stuff that most people got over in their mid-teens. Not me.

I'm still ashamed to buy birth control.

That's right. Most men consider it a badge of honor. Sort of like announcing to the world "I'M GOING TO HAVE SEX TONIGHT! WELL, IF NOT TONIGHT THEN MAYBE SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE!" Unfortunately, I've always been really embarrassed by the whole thing. I know the clerk at the store will be snickering as soon as I'm out the door. "What are you gonna do with those? Make water balloons? Mwah-ha-ha-ha!"

I guess from the water balloon comment you can tell that our birth control method of choice is condoms. Sokay with me. I'd wrap my body in latex if it meant having sex on a regular basis. Latex body suit...hmmm? What was I saying? Oh yeah, condoms. Seriously, I've never been a big proponent of birth control pills if my lady love (shiny!) doesn't like how them make her feel and I really don't mind wearing them. Tough to find shoes that matches them, though.

Stupid, isn't it? Well the other day I was in the midst of doing some shopping and random chores about town when I remembered that I was out of condoms. Shit! Then I remembered that my girl (shiny!) wasn't spending the night with me that evening. I had a one-day reprieve. At least!

I did intend on seeing her. She was managing the restaurant that night and I thought I would pop in, have a few beers and bid her a fond good night. So I stroll into town and into her place when she spots me. She immediately comes over for a hello snog and whispers into my ear "I've changed my mind about tonight. Can I stay over? Did you buy condoms?"

FUCK!

So I waltz (that's right!) into the local drugstore where there is not one, but two teenaged girls working the counter. And they are retarded. Not actually disabled, but just stupid as all hell. Great!

I grab my condom box o' choice and a pack of gum. Yeah, I can't even go in and buy JUST a box of condoms...gotta get something else so they can think "Well...at least his breath will be fresh". I get to the counter and retard #1 is apparently training retard #2 who is manning the till. Great again! First she has trouble scanning the objects. Then she announces that it comes to $10.80 for the two items. This is all taking forever. And a line is forming behind me. A line of women.

I give her a twenty and a single in the hopes that it will assist her change-making skills. Not so. She looked at me with that retarded look of hers and said "You had enough with just the twenty?"

I sigh and say "Yeah, I know, but I figured you could just give me back a ten and 20 cents. Easier for you, right?" She didn't get it. She actually gave me a five and five singles instead of the ten. WTF? Then she said "Sorry...I'm not good at making change yet."

You know what? I don't think she'll ever be good at making change. Or dialing a phone. Or wiping properly. She's retarded!

So my embarrassing 1-minute chore took almost 15-minutes because of these retards. And a long line of customers got a very good idea of what the rest of my night was going to consist of...chewing gum and drinking away my shame!

PS - Never did use those condoms that night. FUCK!

Pickled to death!

So yesterday, I went with a friend to a local Pickle festival.

I'll wait here while you giggle amongst yourselves.

Finished? OK. Here's the deal. Apparently, there used to be quite a deal of pickles grown in and around the Greenlawn, NY area. The so-called Pickle King lived here back in the day. Blah, blah, blah...allotta history and shit. If you want to read about it, you can do so here.

I really wasn't interested in the local history of the pickle. I just wanted to buy some fresh pickles. And hang out with the pickle people, because frankly...what an absurd concept. A pickle festival? That's just awesome! And they have been doing it for around a quarter of a century. Pickle people come from all over to celebrate the wonder of the pickle here at pickle ground zero. Once again...awesome!

I bought a bunch of pickles as well as some pickled hot peppers and little pickled green tomatoes. Can't wait to have a Bloody Maria with those tomatoes as garnish. Yum! I was a bit disappointed in that they didn't have any pickle-related items like t-shirts or posters. I would have killed for a pickle shirt like this one.

And the activities were kinda lame. No pickle race, however, there was a pickle proclamation read by a local politician. Yeah, I know...lame. But I kinda like saying "pickle proclamation" out loud. Try it. Fun, right?

All in all, it was a pickle perfect afternoon.

Pickle, pickle, pickle!