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.....

Rainy days and Mondays...

...usually get me down. Not so with the past couple 'o days.

It seems as if it's been raining here for the past week or so now. After what seems like months of hot, dry weather we are finally getting some much needed rainfaill to make Long Island green again.

After a morning filled with phone interviews, business proposals and mindless spreadsheet crap, I met shiny new lady love out for lunch around 1-ish. Actually, she came by to pick me up in her new Mini Cooper...flash car!

See...we both took yesterday off to go for a ride and wound up in Port Jefferson for lunch. Took the scenic route the entire way there and back. It was semi-crappy out, but we still had a blast! Got some pizza and drinks for dinner and headed back to my place for some lovin'. Just a perfect overall Monday!

Back to lunch today. Afterwards, she was in a mood to see "High Fidelity" so she wanted to rent it and watch it on this rainy afternoon. Um, it's like my favorite movie evah! Duh! Of course I own it! 90% of my daily conversation comes from that film. And I'm soooo annoying to watch it with because I say all of the dialogue a half-second before it actually occurs. Chink in the armor, Ted...but I'm working on it.

She's beginning to see what makes me tick. Hope she doesn't get scared!

Uh oh, it's half past a monkey's ass...gotta go!

Sister

Listening to Sonic Youth tonight...enjoy!

Schizophrenia
Sonic Youth

I went away to see an old friend of mine.
His sister came over...she was out of her mind.
She said Jesus had a twin, who knew nothing about sin.
And she was laughing like crazy at the trouble I'm in.

Her light eyes were dancing. She is insane.
(Her brother says she's just a bitch. With a golden chain.)
She keeps coming closer saying "I can feel it in my
bones. Schizophrenia is taking me home"

My Future is static. It's already had it I could tuck you in.
And we can talk about it I had a dream.
And it split the scene.
But I got a hunch It's coming back to me.

Wooden Shoes

Saw a guy tonight who wears only those wooden Dutch shoes. I've seen him around town before and never really noticed the guy. Last week I saw him and finally noticed his footwear. I asked around and he seems to be some kind of mad genius that invented something important in the 70's.

Now he wears wooden shoes.

I need to invent something stupid/lucrative that would allow me to be weird and wear something like wooden shoes. I mean, it wouldn't be wooden shoes because we already got a guy like that. But something like a cape. Or a suit with tails. Or spats.

Something with class. Cuz I'm all about the class, kids!

None for me, thanks!

I hope my last post didn't give you the feeling that I don't love little Riley or that I'm a bad uncle. The opposite is true for both those statements.

She's the daughter that I will never have. I say that with absolute certainty. I don't want kids of my own and I don't believe I ever will want them. One of the first things that shiny new lady love said to me on our first date was that she never wants to have kids, and was I okay with that.

Okay with that? I almost proposed on the spot. Well, except neither of us believes in the whole marriage thing, but you get my drift. Marriage...kids...sorry. Great for some, just not me.

So, in honor of my beloved neice I am posting the lyrics to one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs which he wrote about his youngest daughter. It always reminds me of Riley Grace. Enjoy!

Delaney Talks To Statues
Jimmy Buffett, Mac McAnally, Amy Lee

Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
That I cannot discover
But she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers

Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat

Delaney draws me pictures
She finger paints the sand
We chase the dogs and hop like frogs
Then I do my bad handstand
She's growing up too fast for me
And asking lots of questions
Some I know the answers to
And some I'm looking for suggestions

Father, daughter
Born by the water
Surf's up, sun's down
Life in a beach town

And some of the things I've seen
Maybe she won't have to see
But there's a lot I want to pass along
That was handed down to me

Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through Roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
Just a little like her mother
And she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers

Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat

Life of Riley Grace

Well I mentioned a few posts down that I had a long weekend. Actually it's turning into a long week, but that's besides the point.

My youngest sister is on vacation at Disney in Orlando with my nephew to celebrate the little brat's sixth birthday in a few weeks. Uncle Earl, being the great guy that he is, is stuck watching her 3-year old daughter until this Thursday when they return.

Don't get me wrong, I love my niece. Love her, love her, love her. She's is the most adorable thing and she has a way of talking that linguists can't even figure out. She's the best. She also needs more attention than ANYONE I have ever met on the planet! With most kids her age (she will be four in the fall) you can just sit them down in front of the TV with some Barbie movie crap and they will become catatonic. I'm not saying that's a good thing, in fact, quite the opposite. But sometimes you need a little "me time", man!

Not with this kid. She is constantly up your ass. "Play a game wid me", "Let's go fow a wok", "I wan you to sa-pin me" and it goes on. That's last one was spin, by the way. She can't really say words that start with "s" as they were meant to be said. Sleep becomes sa-leep, story becomes sa-tory, and smell becomes sa-mell. You get the drift? Actually, it's kinda cool. Like she invented her own form of pig latin. My sister and I have entire conversations where we substitute our "s" words for her "s" words. It's fun. Try it!

Today she is at day camp for a few hours so I can get some work done (and yet I'm typing this), and then it is beach time where she tries to swim out past anyone else. Yeah, that's fun! Especially considering my previously mentioned fear of sharks on Slyde's blog. Oh, I should mention that we are going to a bay beach, not an ocean beach so there aren't any sharks in the water. But there is seaweed and jellyfish and either touching me will induce a shark attack-like high-pitched scream! Good times!

Is it Thursday yet?



Here's a not-so-recent picture of the little rug-rat. That's not flash-induced "red-eye", by the way. That's the demon who dwells within her, and its trying to get out. Help me!

Victory is ours...

...victory is ours!

I want all the finest meats and breads brought to my table as we joyously celebrate this historic victory over our most ancient of foes. My men will drink the finest wine and bed the comliest wenches for Victory is ours!

I shall celebrate this day of days with grand festivals devoted to our valiant heroes, and I shall commission the building of the most opulant temple ever devoted to the Gods that walk amongst us!

Victory is ours!


PS - OK, that's the last time I will mention the Yankees historic 5-game sweep of the Red Sox for at least a few days. OK?

Thus far, thus good

After one of the longest weekends of my life (I'll explain later), it brings a smile to my face to see that the Red Sox had an even longer weekend than I.

With one more game to go this afternoon, the Yankees have crushed the hopes of the Sawx and their fans with four straight victories in Boston this weekend. Let's review some of the hi-lites for the Yanks:

- A real nice blowout to start the series on Friday afternoon.
- The longest regular-season 9 inning game in recorded history on Friday night.
- 18 (or 19) pitchers used by both teams on Friday for the double-header.
- Sal Fasano getting some time as a pinch-runner!
- Bobby Abreu reaching base safely in something like 17 or his 23 plate appearances. Not sure of the exact stats here, but it's ridiculous.
- Johnny Damon sticking it to his old team in Abreu-like fashion.
- Glorious comeback win last night with two HRs in the 10th by Giambi (5RBI last night) and Posada.
- Red Sox fans missing their last trains home. Ha! Twice! Ha Ha!

Anyway, probably ruining for the Yanks this afternoon by gloating like this, but so far the Boston Massacre 2 is going exactly as I planned it. Mwah-ha-ha!

A Bronx Tale

It's time to mention the great love of my life here on this hallowed site. A love that has endured decades, one that never judges me, a love as pure as the driven snow.

I'm speaking of the NY Yankees, of course. Make that the first place NY Yankees, thank you very much!

I became a Yankee fan at the ripe old age of 6. The rest of my family were Met fans, and why not? It was 1973 and the Yankees hadn't done anything of note since the early 60's and the Mets were just four short years off of their first World Series Championship. They made a truly miraculous run to the playoffs in '73 where they played the machine that was the Oakland A's in the World Series.

Having to be different, I chose to root for the A's in that series. Wise choice. At the time, my favorite player was Reggie Jackson so there was some merit to my interest in rooting against the Mets. My family couldn't stand me that year. The A's won and here was this little 6-year old asshole jumping for joy at the Met's loss.

I then made a conscious choice to become a Yankee fan. Couldn't really root for a team across the country, so why not root for the other team in New York? The Yanks were pretty terrible that next year, but they picked it up in '75 and '76 with World Series rings in '77 and '78. That was awesome! And then Thurman died and it all started to fall apart.

A lot of folks equate rooting for the Yankees to rooting for US Steel, but there has always been a sense of pride and dignity with that team...something that most sports franchises yearn for.

The Yankees begin a crucial 5-game set with the hated Red Sox on Friday afternoon. You know what I'm doing this weekend. May the baseball gods smile upon the true love of my life.

Go Yankees!

I'll take Manhattan

Didn't do my Monday morning Top 5 post like I said I was going to last week. It's a shame when a weekly tradition only lasts one week, isn't it? I listened to no music at all yesterday morning, in fact. Here's why:

So I was supposed to go to a simple dinner somewhere in town on Sunday night with shiny new lady love (we'll come up with a nickname soon) when she decided to kick it up a notch and head into NYC.

At first we decided to drive, but Sunday evening traffic into NYC is horrible due to all those Hampton-ites returning to the roost, so we bailed and hopped on the train. That's when things get interesting for me. Driving into the city is one thing. You have to be good. Can't drink too much because you have to drive home. Also you need to remember where you parked.

Taking the train means all bets are off, and this night...all bets were off. We started out the evening at a lovely seafood joint sitting outside on an equally lovely evening. It was one of those "early in the relationship" freaking awesome dinner dates. Even our waitress couldn't help but notice that we were gaga over each other. Fresh guacamole (sp?), awesome sampler of their four ceviche dishes, black bass in a chipolte sauce for me and a delish swordfish dish for her. Oh yeah, many beers and mojitos as well. Good stuff!

From there it was a short walk to Whiskey Blue in the lobby of the W hotel on Lexington Avenue. It's a nice, upscale hotel bar with a fantastic bartender making expensive drinks...all for little ole us! Tanqueray 10 gibsons were my beverage choice, while shiny new lady love went with vodka martinis. It was about right here when we knew it was going to be a long night.

After 3 rounds of martini lusciousness, I knew we needed to head over towards Penn Station because it was getting kinda late. But I also wasn't ready to head home and neither was she. So I suggested my favorite dive bar in Manhattan. One that I knew would still be open late on Sunday night...well early Monday morning at this point.

I pointed our cab driver over to Rudy's Bar & Grill over in Hell's Kitchen, the king of all NYC dive bars. It's one of those places that I really can't even describe. You have to go there to love it. Cheap draft beer, free hot dogs, worst bar floor in the history of bad bar floors, red tape holding together the pleather on in the booths, awesome juke box, and lots and lots of local flavor. Oooh, see what I did there? I did manage to describe it!

Anywho, in all my drunken days and nights at Rudy's I have never managed to make it to closing time at 4AM. Strike that objective off my list. At a little before 4AM (Monday morning...mind you) we finished our last PBR draft and we were whooshed out with the door getting locked behind us. I knew the next train wasn't for 45 minutes, so we had a nice leisurely stroll back to Penn and our awaiting train.

I still can't believe how many people were still out and about at that time of the morning on a Monday! I know its the city that never sleeps, but jeez there were a lot of folks! Anyway, long story short is that I blew off my work on Monday because we didn't get back to my place until after 6AM. Nothing like being out all night and seeing the sun come up before you hit the pillows. Larry Miller once joked about the 5 stages of drinking and said this "Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's like a victory like you've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight." True dat...double true!

Anyway, it was one of those totally expected, absolutely magical NYC nights that seem to be getting rarer as I get older. Can't wait for the next one!

Great Comic Book Covers, Batman!

Hey kids! Slyde and I were in discussions the other day to come up with our Top 5 lists for greatest comic books adapted into film and also the greatest comic book storylines that we own in our collections.

Yeah, yeah...grown men with comic book collections. Deal with it. I have to say that I feel partially responsible for a large portion of Slyde's collection. When we met back in the early 90's, he was buying only a handful of comics each month. Then he came over to the dark side and started collecting dozens each month just like I was. We collected like that for years...going to conventions, meeting up at obscure hobby shops, rooting through back-issue bins. Then I stopped. Just about cold turkey, and I still don't think he has forgiven me.

Anyway, in anticippppation of our posts about the above sometime next week (hopefully), I decided to thumb through my comic book collection and post a little something about my Top 5 Comic Book Covers. I only considered super-hero stuff because there are just too many beautiful covers by Dave McKean, Glenn Fabry and others on some non-conventional titles. Nope, strictly dudes and dudettes in spandex here.

Click on the titles to see a scan of each cover. Here goes:

Top 5 Comic Book Covers (in my collection...that include superheroes)
1. Wonder Woman #199 (vol 1) - art by Jeffrey Jones. OK, not the creepy actor from Ferris Bueller's Day Off Jeffrey Jones, but the fantasy artist. So I cheated a little bit here because there are no actual heroes in tights on the cover, but I just love it so much. It is a simple little noirish cover that could go on just about any pulp magazine from the 50's. A little bondage. Scary dude hanging around in the background. Damsel in distress. It's got it all. I don't believe I ever opened this one up. I bought it solely on the basis of JJ's cover. Awesome!
2. Swamp Thing #7 (vol 1) - art by Bernie Wrightson. This one is great. Not only do you have the familiar horror style of Bernie Wrightson, but you have a cameo in the book and on the cover by Batman! This was also (I believe) Bernie's last work on Swampy. Too bad.
3. Amazing Spider-Man #300 - art by Todd MacFarlane. There may be other covers from Spider-man that were better, but this one was just so iconic. Spidey in the black suit, first appearance of Venom. All those 300's on the cover. OK...that last part sucked, but it was a real fine example of MacFarlane at the top of his game.
4. Marvel Premiere #15 - art by Gil Kane. I'm a sucker for cover art from the 1970's and this is one of my favorites. It's the first appearance of Iron Fist (one of my favorite characters) and the art by Kane is exceptional. Usually is with that guy, whether he is doing Batman or the Green Lantern. He always seemed to be on his game. Check out that dragon tat on his chest. Niiiiice!
5. Doom Patrol #121 (vol 1) - art by Joe Orlando. This one is a little harder to explain. I'm not a fan of Joe Orlando's work, generally. However, this one dealt with the death of the main characters in the Doom Patrol. Big tombstones on the cover with an awesome "You Decide" balloon to put the weight of these character's lives in your hands! This was at a time when you just didn't kill off your heroes. But the title was ending so it made great headlines back in the late 1960's. Turns out three of the four members were found to have not perished (shocked I tell you) when DC brought the team back together in the 1980's. That's alright. Still a great cover! And it was the sixties, so you know that Elasti-girl was hiding a little mini-skirt behind that stupid tombstone. Rowr!

The Midnight Star

't senAs some of you may have guessed, I love a good bar. Irish pub, dirty local joint, posh NYC lounge, anything with a little style and a lot of booze. That's what I like!

I live in a town on Long Island that is populated with some interesting bars. We have Irish pubs, English pubs, townie joints, cigar bars, tex-mex bars, big NYC-style upscale bars, smoky bars (which ignore the state-wide smoking ban), coffee bars, outdoor bars, upstairs bars, sidewalk cafes, and a host of sushi bars.

I love all these places. I have friends at most of them, either on the staff or just regulars that only go to one place. Don't get me wrong, I have my favorites too. There are two bars that I spend most of my time at, but I like to dabble in the fringe joints as well. Keep up my contacts with the bar weirdos, you know.

Last night one of said weirdos dropped into favorite bar #1 just around closing time to have a few beers and some shots. About 3 of each in a 20 minute period. And the so-called "shots" he drinks are mind erasers. Phew! Anyway, he couldn't figure something out with his new cell phone. He had a missed call and he wanted to see what the number was. I helped him figure it out, then he asked me to help him change the volume on his ringer. To make sure it worked, I called him with my cell phone to hear the ring. All was well.

So we usher the drunken fool out the door, and I help my friend close up the bar. It was around 1AM. Fast forward to this morning when a phone call on my cell interrupts some boring work shit I was doing around 11AM. It was the drunk from last night. You see, he must have woken up and saw a missed call on his phone and now he knows how to find out the number. He just forgot a few salient details in that it was me who showed him how, and that I had called him to check the volume on his ringer. I smiled for 15 minutes straight after that call.

God, I love this town and it's drunken denizens!

PS - The title to this post refers to a character in a movie. It was someone who loved a good bar and was referred to as The Midnight Star because "I'm always there, but I shine brightest at night". Can you name the film?

Way too much info...

OK, so shiny new lady love was over my apartment last night. She goes to the bathroom to powder her nose and says that I am almost out of toilet paper. I ask her to check under the sink, but alas...no tp.

Alright, so I store this in my head to make sure that I go out early to the market to buy some when I am getting my morning java and paper. I forget, of course.

Fast forward to this afternoon. Sitting at my desk doing some mindless spreadsheet work when the urge hits me to drop the kids off at the pool. Feel free to replace that last line with whatever euphemism you prefer for crapping. Mind you, I'm also IMing with a friend of mine when I tell him that I have to run and crap.

I go to the bathroom and there it is. A roll of tp with maybe two sheets left on it. What the hell am I gonna do with two sheets? Alright, I alert my friend online that I need to run to the market to pick up tp because I am nearly out. Jump into the car and head to the nearest market which happens to be this 24-hour convenience store/deli kinda place.

I find the Scott's tissues and grab two rolls and stroll to the counter. Now everyone in the joint, customers and employees, have to know that I had one on deck and I ran out of paper. I mean, nobody runs into this place for just two rolls of toilet paper...so they gotta know, right? I curb my embarrasment and pay for my goodies and I run outta there, because things are getting critical now. Ya know?

But, much to my chagrin, when I get home I find that the urge to purge has passed. CRAP! Hope this doesn't turn into a Kramer incident, if you get my Seinfeld drift. Oh yeah, my buddy on the other end of the IM says he laughed so hard at my plight that it brought tears to his eyes. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP!!!

What do you think? Too much information?

Dyslexics of the world, untie!

I seem to get this email in cycles every few months, but I thought I would pass it on. It's amazing what the human brain can do, even with very little effort.

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55% of plepoe can. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it .