(I had grand plans to jot down all the events of the weekend as they happened but various things conspired to prevent that, including the infamous Bernie's Rum+Cokes. So this is all you get.)
Friday, June 8
5:30pm - Good news. Our old Rolling Rock bar that we painted ourselves in either 2001 or 2002 was spotted on the front porch of a house on Summit St between 18th and 19th. Felt like a proud papa. Also, Hudik is near Mansfield and still a douche.
We are now putting the finishing touches on a $3 pitcher here at Zigs, because we're super cool. Wanted to go to Ruby Tuesday for dirt cheap Guinness but it was 4:50 and they don't open til 5:00. So that makes us even more super awesome.
I'm getting a sunburn right now.
Saturday, June 9
8:35pm - Sorry I haven't been writing.
40s. Margaritas. Guinness. Also and unnamed illegal vice. Not prostitution.
I'm at a place called Patio and I only now truly feel as though I'm back in Ohio in all its good and all its bad.
8:38 - There is a girl here who can probably squat 275 lbs. And I'm very very mildly turned on.
8:39 - There is also a dude here wearing a LeBron high school jersey. Exploitation at any age is just as fun.
9:25 - There's a LOT of hoochie-mamas walkin around here right now.
9:36 - Tittaaaaaayyss!!
9:39 - I repeat: there are a lot of hoochie-mamas out tonight.
9:59 - You know, Columbus is a lot like NY except I've got sun-charred shoulders and all the girls are having a contest to see who can have the blondest hair.
10:29 - Just my first set of leotards! Yes!! Now I'm in my element.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Itch
There are many kinds of alcoholics. Here is what kind of an alcoholic I am:
I don't often drink much during the week, and if i do, I don't get drunk. So every week, usually on Friday but sometimes Thursday, I get this jittery, anxious feeling. It's my body telling me that the jig is up, it's time to imbibe again. Yes, this officially means I'm an addict. But it's not a bad withdrawal trip, this sensation; it's a positive, almost erumpent feeling. It's kinda like if you haven't ejaculated in a while and you can start to feel it building up in you and you're not only waking up with hard-ons, but also springing one at the smallest, sometimes even unrelated arousal.
I don't often drink much during the week, and if i do, I don't get drunk. So every week, usually on Friday but sometimes Thursday, I get this jittery, anxious feeling. It's my body telling me that the jig is up, it's time to imbibe again. Yes, this officially means I'm an addict. But it's not a bad withdrawal trip, this sensation; it's a positive, almost erumpent feeling. It's kinda like if you haven't ejaculated in a while and you can start to feel it building up in you and you're not only waking up with hard-ons, but also springing one at the smallest, sometimes even unrelated arousal.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Jobs
I was riding the Airtrain at midnight last night and an airport employee got on seemingly at the end of his day. Later in my trip, about eight MTA workers got on the subway and also appeared to have just finished up for the day. This got me thinking: what kind of life is that? The obvious answer is that it isn't any kind of life. Not to generalize, but these people, and many many more in similar low-level/odd-hour jobs, can't possibly have much to their existence outside of work. They work to live, to have enough money to eat and pay rent. What they do is who they are. And lots of them probably don't mind or just don't know any different.
The reason I'm mentioning this now is the same as why I think about anything: because it made me think of myself and because I'm extremely self-centered.
I don't work to live or live to work or any of that baloney. I work only so much that I can have enough money to live for myself, so that I can do the things I want to do, like go out on the weekends, take a few trips here and there, and basically just enjoy myself. What I do is not who I am because I don't invest myself in it that much. Maybe you could say that this is sad commmentary on me, that I don't have a job that I love or that I enjoy going to. That's not true, or rather, it would be true no matter my occupation because I'm not very much interested in any jobs out there, or anything that I would have to do every day. Also, I do enjoy going to work lots of times and even sometimes I anxiously (positive anxiety) think about work when I'm not at work. But I am not the guy who stocks the office with supplies or repairs the copy machines or yells at the vendors for doing a crappy job. I am the guy who hurries out of work so I can get to the gym before it gets too crowded, and flips over to The Tonight Show solely to see if there are any superhot actresses on, and spends most of Friday drinking plenty of water so I'll be nice and hydrated for the alcohol to follow.
So don't ask me "What do you do?" I live and do things and enjoy myself and in between that I go to work so I can continue to enjoy myself. I plan my summer around my dad's boccee tournament, not our office's HVAC shutdown. I think about extracurriculars at work all the time but work at home rarely. I guess this all means that I feel sorry for the MTA worker and others like him. And I guess I feel pretty fortunate that I have just enough money to not have to be a slave to a job.
The reason I'm mentioning this now is the same as why I think about anything: because it made me think of myself and because I'm extremely self-centered.
I don't work to live or live to work or any of that baloney. I work only so much that I can have enough money to live for myself, so that I can do the things I want to do, like go out on the weekends, take a few trips here and there, and basically just enjoy myself. What I do is not who I am because I don't invest myself in it that much. Maybe you could say that this is sad commmentary on me, that I don't have a job that I love or that I enjoy going to. That's not true, or rather, it would be true no matter my occupation because I'm not very much interested in any jobs out there, or anything that I would have to do every day. Also, I do enjoy going to work lots of times and even sometimes I anxiously (positive anxiety) think about work when I'm not at work. But I am not the guy who stocks the office with supplies or repairs the copy machines or yells at the vendors for doing a crappy job. I am the guy who hurries out of work so I can get to the gym before it gets too crowded, and flips over to The Tonight Show solely to see if there are any superhot actresses on, and spends most of Friday drinking plenty of water so I'll be nice and hydrated for the alcohol to follow.
So don't ask me "What do you do?" I live and do things and enjoy myself and in between that I go to work so I can continue to enjoy myself. I plan my summer around my dad's boccee tournament, not our office's HVAC shutdown. I think about extracurriculars at work all the time but work at home rarely. I guess this all means that I feel sorry for the MTA worker and others like him. And I guess I feel pretty fortunate that I have just enough money to not have to be a slave to a job.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Welcome to the new blog. Myspace just wasn't cutting it. Also, I'm pretty tech-dumb so that could be it, but it seemed like after a while my posts over there would just disappear. And of course we need these words for posterity.
Quite certain I'll post much more frequently here, if only because I know how to add pictures and links in this format.
Everything posted below this one is old, simply copied from the Myspace blog. So if you feel like reminiscing about the Great Hamsgiving or the Staten Island Adventure, enjoy.
Quite certain I'll post much more frequently here, if only because I know how to add pictures and links in this format.
Everything posted below this one is old, simply copied from the Myspace blog. So if you feel like reminiscing about the Great Hamsgiving or the Staten Island Adventure, enjoy.
Jury Duty, Part III
Wednesday, May 23
8:12am - Off day. Back to normal, for a day. Feel like crap today.
Not sure why I'm writing this now, it's just occurred to me to write it, but I spent a good deal thinking about it yesterday. The plaintiff's mother is completely hot. Consider that this woman has an 11yr old GRANDdaughter. I know it's hard to believe but you've got to trust me on this. She looks exactly like a hispanic version of Diane Lane. It's uncanny. In a few more years, JLo is going to look just like this woman. I could only see her over the ledge from about the neck up, but still she was enough to distract me for about 15 minutes. In all fairness, even though she has been a grandmother for 11 years, she might only be about 45. Her daughter is only 25 now, after all. At any rate, my first ever GMILF.
5:44pm - Well, interesting news. I missed a call on my cell phone earlier this afternoon. The call was to inform me that my service is over, that the case was settled out of court this morning. So. I'll be going to Columbus in June after all. And my boss won't have to freak out for 3 weeks. Good.
8:30 - An odd sense of relief right now. Though of course come tomorrow morning I'm sure I'm going to miss the extra hour of sleep the court schedule afforded me. That about the only wistful rumination. No more incontinent old man. No more horrifyingly annoying, attention-seeking bull dyke. No more attorney with a constant dab of white dried spittle in the corner of his mouth. No more hot courtroom. No more homosexual judge who draws out his seemingly omniscient "uhs" so they sound like "uuuuuhhhhhhhggggeeeehhhgeeeehhhhhggegeeguuuhhhhhh." It's like a stutter, actually, but not at all endearingly pitiful like a stutter; rather it's just awful and grating. So no more of that. Thank goodness.
Wednesday, May 23
8:12am - Off day. Back to normal, for a day. Feel like crap today.
Not sure why I'm writing this now, it's just occurred to me to write it, but I spent a good deal thinking about it yesterday. The plaintiff's mother is completely hot. Consider that this woman has an 11yr old GRANDdaughter. I know it's hard to believe but you've got to trust me on this. She looks exactly like a hispanic version of Diane Lane. It's uncanny. In a few more years, JLo is going to look just like this woman. I could only see her over the ledge from about the neck up, but still she was enough to distract me for about 15 minutes. In all fairness, even though she has been a grandmother for 11 years, she might only be about 45. Her daughter is only 25 now, after all. At any rate, my first ever GMILF.
5:44pm - Well, interesting news. I missed a call on my cell phone earlier this afternoon. The call was to inform me that my service is over, that the case was settled out of court this morning. So. I'll be going to Columbus in June after all. And my boss won't have to freak out for 3 weeks. Good.
8:30 - An odd sense of relief right now. Though of course come tomorrow morning I'm sure I'm going to miss the extra hour of sleep the court schedule afforded me. That about the only wistful rumination. No more incontinent old man. No more horrifyingly annoying, attention-seeking bull dyke. No more attorney with a constant dab of white dried spittle in the corner of his mouth. No more hot courtroom. No more homosexual judge who draws out his seemingly omniscient "uhs" so they sound like "uuuuuhhhhhhhggggeeeehhhgeeeehhhhhggegeeguuuhhhhhh." It's like a stutter, actually, but not at all endearingly pitiful like a stutter; rather it's just awful and grating. So no more of that. Thank goodness.
Jury Duty, Part II
Tuesday, May 22
9:20am - Day 1 of the trial. Don't have to be there until 10:00, which is nice. Also, I can walk to the courthouse, which is very nice. Another beautiful day on tap and sometimes there is nothing better than a little stroll on a nice clear spring morning. Bad news is I'm officially sick now, yesterday's crap wasn't just a bad day. So my anticipated 5k this evening will suck now. Oh well.
10:07 - Damn near late to arrive thanks to the slow-as-hell McDs on Canal and Lafayette. Also, note to self, no bagel places in SoHo. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't interested in buying a dress at 9:40am.
10:09 - Do you think they'll let me have this notebook with me to take notes during the actual trial? That would be spectacular if not totally unexpected.
10:13 - I'm in the big jury pool room (the one for everybody, including those still waiting to be/not be selected) and somehow it seems much brighter today. I'm wondering how many other people will be in the courtroom. Probably not many since this is a civil trial. Just learned from roll-call that the plaintiff in my case is named Morales.
10:16 - Yes! I just heard the disembodied recording voice again, and since she's short and seated below my eye level of the high half-wall around her desk, she's once again a disembodied voice. Everything's falling into place now.
10:19 - You know, if they let me take notes during the trial, this Thing could be really long.
10:33 - Not sure yet, but might have just gotten my first "celebrity" sighting. NY Times' David Brooks up in the front corner. He's doing the crossword.
10:47 - Just went to the restroom and on my way back got a frontal view (haha) of Brooks and it is not, in fact, Brooks.
11:03 - Courtroom is next door, at 80 Centre St. Jury room is as you'd expect: a small white box, but there are two widows.
11:09 - Fellow jurors are all reading, waiting to be escorted to the courtroom. Not much mingling yet, but I wonder if that's frowned upon. I saw the Fitz & Fitz lawyer out in the hallway so this baby should be imminent. I'm still waiting for the first person to ask me what I'm writing. Must admit, I've got to look suspicious just writing in a notebook continuously for one and half days now.
12:52pm - No notebook in the courtroom. Actually they provide us with one, but we can't keep it, it's confidential, and it gets shredded afterward. So I'll just have to remember.
Bad news: this looks like a lengthy trial. Judge's words: "Worst case scenario plan to be here through June 8." That would be problematic, as I've got a flight out of the city on the evening of June 7. Our first lunch break now and we're only through the plaintiff's opening. Good news is Judge has something called Motion Day on Wednesdays so we don't ever have to report on Wednesdays. Also: standard end time is 4:45. I might hit up a happy hour Thursday or definitely this Friday.
12:59 - Accidentally, I walked out the back door and popped right out into Columbus Park, so there might be an Asian flair to my lunchtime check-ins.
3:32 - Defense openign now over. It occurs to me that I'm nto supposed to be talking to anyone about this case so I think I'll try to refrain from particulars here too. We've had one juror drop out already though. So now we've only got three alternates. The alternate who was promoted to take his place (drop-out was an Asian man) was the cute chick, who I am strangely not as smitten with today. Not sure why. Still cute, I'm just not as interested.
The older man who sits next to me (I'm juror #4, he's #3) smells. He might be incontinent. And yesterday's bull dyke is still here, as just an alternate now, thank god. She may have a learning disability. At the very least, she is unbelievably annoying. Unbelievably. Guarantee I'll have plenty of opportunities yet to describe her, so be patient.
9:21 - There was an undercurrent of loosening up among the jury at the end of the day. Might have just been punchy after the third delay so Judge could speak privately with lawyers. I can't wait to see what happens come week three and everybody is punchy all the time. Impossibly childish/impatient/fidgety bull dyke is liable to wander aimlessly over to the window AC unit, tear it out, and crush the clerk with it. Should mention that the clerk strangely basically has his office, cluttered mess of papers and all, right in the middle of the courtroom. He ever talks on the phone (extremely quietly at least) during the action. he's also packing heat in the form of a little handgun holstered on his right hip. That gun is probably the reason that the weasely-looking motherfucker is the only principal actor that has yet to be seen with a jacket. Between him and the officer who escorts us into the room, that's two guns in a very small room. For all I know the judge and court reporters are packing too. Thanks for that second amendment, Founders.
Tuesday, May 22
9:20am - Day 1 of the trial. Don't have to be there until 10:00, which is nice. Also, I can walk to the courthouse, which is very nice. Another beautiful day on tap and sometimes there is nothing better than a little stroll on a nice clear spring morning. Bad news is I'm officially sick now, yesterday's crap wasn't just a bad day. So my anticipated 5k this evening will suck now. Oh well.
10:07 - Damn near late to arrive thanks to the slow-as-hell McDs on Canal and Lafayette. Also, note to self, no bagel places in SoHo. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't interested in buying a dress at 9:40am.
10:09 - Do you think they'll let me have this notebook with me to take notes during the actual trial? That would be spectacular if not totally unexpected.
10:13 - I'm in the big jury pool room (the one for everybody, including those still waiting to be/not be selected) and somehow it seems much brighter today. I'm wondering how many other people will be in the courtroom. Probably not many since this is a civil trial. Just learned from roll-call that the plaintiff in my case is named Morales.
10:16 - Yes! I just heard the disembodied recording voice again, and since she's short and seated below my eye level of the high half-wall around her desk, she's once again a disembodied voice. Everything's falling into place now.
10:19 - You know, if they let me take notes during the trial, this Thing could be really long.
10:33 - Not sure yet, but might have just gotten my first "celebrity" sighting. NY Times' David Brooks up in the front corner. He's doing the crossword.
10:47 - Just went to the restroom and on my way back got a frontal view (haha) of Brooks and it is not, in fact, Brooks.
11:03 - Courtroom is next door, at 80 Centre St. Jury room is as you'd expect: a small white box, but there are two widows.
11:09 - Fellow jurors are all reading, waiting to be escorted to the courtroom. Not much mingling yet, but I wonder if that's frowned upon. I saw the Fitz & Fitz lawyer out in the hallway so this baby should be imminent. I'm still waiting for the first person to ask me what I'm writing. Must admit, I've got to look suspicious just writing in a notebook continuously for one and half days now.
12:52pm - No notebook in the courtroom. Actually they provide us with one, but we can't keep it, it's confidential, and it gets shredded afterward. So I'll just have to remember.
Bad news: this looks like a lengthy trial. Judge's words: "Worst case scenario plan to be here through June 8." That would be problematic, as I've got a flight out of the city on the evening of June 7. Our first lunch break now and we're only through the plaintiff's opening. Good news is Judge has something called Motion Day on Wednesdays so we don't ever have to report on Wednesdays. Also: standard end time is 4:45. I might hit up a happy hour Thursday or definitely this Friday.
12:59 - Accidentally, I walked out the back door and popped right out into Columbus Park, so there might be an Asian flair to my lunchtime check-ins.
3:32 - Defense openign now over. It occurs to me that I'm nto supposed to be talking to anyone about this case so I think I'll try to refrain from particulars here too. We've had one juror drop out already though. So now we've only got three alternates. The alternate who was promoted to take his place (drop-out was an Asian man) was the cute chick, who I am strangely not as smitten with today. Not sure why. Still cute, I'm just not as interested.
The older man who sits next to me (I'm juror #4, he's #3) smells. He might be incontinent. And yesterday's bull dyke is still here, as just an alternate now, thank god. She may have a learning disability. At the very least, she is unbelievably annoying. Unbelievably. Guarantee I'll have plenty of opportunities yet to describe her, so be patient.
9:21 - There was an undercurrent of loosening up among the jury at the end of the day. Might have just been punchy after the third delay so Judge could speak privately with lawyers. I can't wait to see what happens come week three and everybody is punchy all the time. Impossibly childish/impatient/fidgety bull dyke is liable to wander aimlessly over to the window AC unit, tear it out, and crush the clerk with it. Should mention that the clerk strangely basically has his office, cluttered mess of papers and all, right in the middle of the courtroom. He ever talks on the phone (extremely quietly at least) during the action. he's also packing heat in the form of a little handgun holstered on his right hip. That gun is probably the reason that the weasely-looking motherfucker is the only principal actor that has yet to be seen with a jacket. Between him and the officer who escorts us into the room, that's two guns in a very small room. For all I know the judge and court reporters are packing too. Thanks for that second amendment, Founders.
Jury Duty, Part I
Monday, May 21
9:24am - The Wheels of Justice are turning--jfolg is on the case.
452 Centre St: the big impressive building in Foley Square with the big impressive stairs that wrap around the sides pyramidically. Jane Pauley was just videophonically letting us know how great juries are. Pride. Only Manhattanites in this room.
9:26 - Now Judy Kaye, Judge (on video), just let us know how great the justice system is. Friendly, personal, even.
"..........no one will ever enter, for this gate was just for you. Now I am going to close it."
9:29 - odd old guy now giving us a rah-rah in-your-face sort of Huey Long speech. He's not on video.
9:33 - Good, if not disturbing, if not fascinating news: the disembodied, presumably computer-generated voice that greeted me in the recorded updated reporting instructions after calling in last night as ordered to do so, actually belongs to a real live person who's standing here right now.
9:37 - Shit, just found out there might also be some Roosevelt Island wackos here too. Shit. Broken dreams, those mofos probably have a vendetta out for me because of excess glass washing up on their shores.
9:54 - Just handed in my card. Line of people filtering through and disembodied recording voice lady was making a show of saying good morning loudly to every single person as they have their cards. Proud to report i was the first to return the greeting, followed by her: "That's right, you're here already, might as well smile."
11:02 - I was reading some good old Hunter S Thompson for the last half hour--maybe freak out the selectors.
11:04 - I am now in the selection room. Old woman was sitting in my seat--number 12--ha! Seat 12 incidentally was labelled with tape and somehow she still screwed it up. Now you're not going to believe this, but after old woman corrected her first seating mistake, the Selector was taking roll to double-check and lo and behold her second attempt at finding her NUMBERED SEAT was also a failure. I don't care about inconvenience, for the naive sake of fair justice I hope that if it comes down to me and her for the last selection that I get picked. I would be slightly more competent than her while stone-drunk and with cocaine dripping down the back of my throat.
11:10 - Lawyers just showed up. No more coke references--even in jest.
11:11 - Only one of them is using a legal pad. other two are nonconformists, evidently. It's a yellow pad. Whoa!........hold on, lawyer #2 just pulled a legal pad out of his satch. Sneaky.
11:16 - This is a medical malpractice case and the plaintiff (a newborn, presumably not entirely healthy baby) is being represented by, of course, Fitzgerald & Fitzgerald. They of the subway ad fame. Well, you ain't getting no multimillion dollar settlement from this cat, you gluttonous bastards.
11:24 - Quiet room. Rather cold. off-white paint 360degrees with an odd 4inch ledge running around the circumference about 40inches up the wall. It's like a ledge seen along walls in some bars. Room is about 14x20 and has one wooden table and 35 wooden chairs with blue leather backs and blue upholstered seats. Two of the chairs are occupied by lawyers at the table irregularly reading our questionnaires and looking up at us to get a read for how complicit we might be in their little money game (it's a civil trial of course). (Note--I was wrong earlier, only two lawyers, third guy was something else. He left. 30 potential jurors leaves three empty chairs.)
11:30 - I was trying to peep onto the questionnaire of the senile old lady (who settled in finally right next to me) to find out her name but she caught me and paranoically turned it over. Maybe there's a faint light on up there after all?
11:32 - Fitz & Fitz lawyer just broke long verbal silence and said "God bless you" to a sneezer. He's good. +2 points for him.
11:35 - There is a bull dyke in the room. As well as a very skinny black man wearing a leather fanny pack.
12:50pm - Lunch break now. Fitz & Fitz guy did his hour of questioning, stopping and asking things of all 30 of us. Inevitably, I suppose, I got the biggest laugh during this, though it was really all his doing. he asked me, directly: "Does any studying get done at Ohio State?"..............laughter,............followed by my answer "Well not on the weekends, as far as I know"..............heavier laughter.
We're supposed to get lunch at 12:45. At 12:35 the defense lawyer woman took a vote to see if we should break at 12:35 or else press forward til she was done and maybe finish early. I noticed the older contingent, including senile woman, were all in favor of an earlier lunch. Myself and the rest of the majority favored waiting. Well, about 10 minutes later, in the middle of defense lawyer's questioning, senile woman asks to speak privately outside with the lawyers. When they return, lawyer woman says let's break for lunch now. The lesson, of course: it's always an old bitch getting in the way of democracy.
1:16 - Sitting near the fountain in Foley Sq eating a tiny Turkey Club Wrap that cost $6, looking back up at the building I'm visiting today, I realize what's slightly familiar about those impressive steps: it's where Charlie Sheen walked up at the end of Wall Street. So there.
1:19 - There are now an uncomfortable amount of fire engines parked along the road outside the building adjoining mine. No smoke evident. Not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved.
1:24 It's a very lovely day, low 70s and a perfectly blue sky. Sky is so spotless and bright, in fact, that it looks like a massive green screen (except it's blue obviously) that they use in TV and movies for effects. it is a tad breezy, though that might be geographically local: I'm downtown and it seems always to be windy downtown.
1:26 Woman sitting next to me is, int he space of 10 seconds, alternately speaking loudly and clearly and then instantly breaking into hysterical crying, followed immediately back to the calmness. I'll let you decide if that's unpleasant or not. This has been going on for 10 minutes.
I just counted: calm, 12 seconds of hysterics, 10 seconds of calm, 16 seconds of hysterics, 5 seconds of calm, "I'll call you back," silence, lucky me.
1:32 - Lots and lots of lawyers crossing through now. I just realized that I have absolutely no clue what makes a good suit, as opposed to a cheap one. No clue.
3:31 - Well they're just about done picking us now and I think I've got 5 more minutes before I'll know. To be honest I couldn't really care as long as this robonerd sitting in front of me isn't on the jury with me. He's as fidgety as a 5yr old and he wouldn't stop picking at a a scab on the back of his neck. According to his questionnaire, his hobby is "video games." Good for you, buddy.
There is one cute girl here, though. During our most recent 15 minute break so the lawyers could argue over us I picked an empty spot in the circular hallway and stretched out my tight legs a little. She walked by me twice and the second time she was definitely checking me out. So I got that going for me. Also, I'm vain and even somewhat pathetic for imagining that a potential jury mate was giving me the perv-eye. Guilty.
3:39 - Almost forgot - earlier (lunch break ended at 2:00) someone was late coming back and held everyone up fora full 15 minutes. When she finally arrived, she smiled, looked around the room, said "Waiting for me?" and then giggled. Couldn't determine how benign the giggle was because all my senses were filled with bloodlust.
3:43 - Drats! -- "Selected." One of ten.
3:44 - Silver lining--cute girl is also "Selected."
3:45 - Double Drats! --cute girl is wearing a ring on her finger, not 100% sure it's a wedding ring yet. Keep you posted.
3:46 - Sitting behind cutie waiting for info about trial start. Her pony-tail can be described as being tied "adulterously." In related news, I could be described as a hopeless optimist.
3:52 - Taking a good look around at the rest of my fellow "Selecteds," I'm having a Nick Carraway moment: "Everything for which I have an unaffected scorn."
9:32 - Well. For better or worse, I'm serving on a jury that will decide whether or not an 11yr old girl and her 25yr old mother are awarded a presumably significant amount of money due to Beth Israel Hospital's negligence. The time to mope about my personal stake in this inconvenient service is passed; I might as well attack this thing as honestly as possible.
Monday, May 21
9:24am - The Wheels of Justice are turning--jfolg is on the case.
452 Centre St: the big impressive building in Foley Square with the big impressive stairs that wrap around the sides pyramidically. Jane Pauley was just videophonically letting us know how great juries are. Pride. Only Manhattanites in this room.
9:26 - Now Judy Kaye, Judge (on video), just let us know how great the justice system is. Friendly, personal, even.
"..........no one will ever enter, for this gate was just for you. Now I am going to close it."
9:29 - odd old guy now giving us a rah-rah in-your-face sort of Huey Long speech. He's not on video.
9:33 - Good, if not disturbing, if not fascinating news: the disembodied, presumably computer-generated voice that greeted me in the recorded updated reporting instructions after calling in last night as ordered to do so, actually belongs to a real live person who's standing here right now.
9:37 - Shit, just found out there might also be some Roosevelt Island wackos here too. Shit. Broken dreams, those mofos probably have a vendetta out for me because of excess glass washing up on their shores.
9:54 - Just handed in my card. Line of people filtering through and disembodied recording voice lady was making a show of saying good morning loudly to every single person as they have their cards. Proud to report i was the first to return the greeting, followed by her: "That's right, you're here already, might as well smile."
11:02 - I was reading some good old Hunter S Thompson for the last half hour--maybe freak out the selectors.
11:04 - I am now in the selection room. Old woman was sitting in my seat--number 12--ha! Seat 12 incidentally was labelled with tape and somehow she still screwed it up. Now you're not going to believe this, but after old woman corrected her first seating mistake, the Selector was taking roll to double-check and lo and behold her second attempt at finding her NUMBERED SEAT was also a failure. I don't care about inconvenience, for the naive sake of fair justice I hope that if it comes down to me and her for the last selection that I get picked. I would be slightly more competent than her while stone-drunk and with cocaine dripping down the back of my throat.
11:10 - Lawyers just showed up. No more coke references--even in jest.
11:11 - Only one of them is using a legal pad. other two are nonconformists, evidently. It's a yellow pad. Whoa!........hold on, lawyer #2 just pulled a legal pad out of his satch. Sneaky.
11:16 - This is a medical malpractice case and the plaintiff (a newborn, presumably not entirely healthy baby) is being represented by, of course, Fitzgerald & Fitzgerald. They of the subway ad fame. Well, you ain't getting no multimillion dollar settlement from this cat, you gluttonous bastards.
11:24 - Quiet room. Rather cold. off-white paint 360degrees with an odd 4inch ledge running around the circumference about 40inches up the wall. It's like a ledge seen along walls in some bars. Room is about 14x20 and has one wooden table and 35 wooden chairs with blue leather backs and blue upholstered seats. Two of the chairs are occupied by lawyers at the table irregularly reading our questionnaires and looking up at us to get a read for how complicit we might be in their little money game (it's a civil trial of course). (Note--I was wrong earlier, only two lawyers, third guy was something else. He left. 30 potential jurors leaves three empty chairs.)
11:30 - I was trying to peep onto the questionnaire of the senile old lady (who settled in finally right next to me) to find out her name but she caught me and paranoically turned it over. Maybe there's a faint light on up there after all?
11:32 - Fitz & Fitz lawyer just broke long verbal silence and said "God bless you" to a sneezer. He's good. +2 points for him.
11:35 - There is a bull dyke in the room. As well as a very skinny black man wearing a leather fanny pack.
12:50pm - Lunch break now. Fitz & Fitz guy did his hour of questioning, stopping and asking things of all 30 of us. Inevitably, I suppose, I got the biggest laugh during this, though it was really all his doing. he asked me, directly: "Does any studying get done at Ohio State?"..............laughter,............followed by my answer "Well not on the weekends, as far as I know"..............heavier laughter.
We're supposed to get lunch at 12:45. At 12:35 the defense lawyer woman took a vote to see if we should break at 12:35 or else press forward til she was done and maybe finish early. I noticed the older contingent, including senile woman, were all in favor of an earlier lunch. Myself and the rest of the majority favored waiting. Well, about 10 minutes later, in the middle of defense lawyer's questioning, senile woman asks to speak privately outside with the lawyers. When they return, lawyer woman says let's break for lunch now. The lesson, of course: it's always an old bitch getting in the way of democracy.
1:16 - Sitting near the fountain in Foley Sq eating a tiny Turkey Club Wrap that cost $6, looking back up at the building I'm visiting today, I realize what's slightly familiar about those impressive steps: it's where Charlie Sheen walked up at the end of Wall Street. So there.
1:19 - There are now an uncomfortable amount of fire engines parked along the road outside the building adjoining mine. No smoke evident. Not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved.
1:24 It's a very lovely day, low 70s and a perfectly blue sky. Sky is so spotless and bright, in fact, that it looks like a massive green screen (except it's blue obviously) that they use in TV and movies for effects. it is a tad breezy, though that might be geographically local: I'm downtown and it seems always to be windy downtown.
1:26 Woman sitting next to me is, int he space of 10 seconds, alternately speaking loudly and clearly and then instantly breaking into hysterical crying, followed immediately back to the calmness. I'll let you decide if that's unpleasant or not. This has been going on for 10 minutes.
I just counted: calm, 12 seconds of hysterics, 10 seconds of calm, 16 seconds of hysterics, 5 seconds of calm, "I'll call you back," silence, lucky me.
1:32 - Lots and lots of lawyers crossing through now. I just realized that I have absolutely no clue what makes a good suit, as opposed to a cheap one. No clue.
3:31 - Well they're just about done picking us now and I think I've got 5 more minutes before I'll know. To be honest I couldn't really care as long as this robonerd sitting in front of me isn't on the jury with me. He's as fidgety as a 5yr old and he wouldn't stop picking at a a scab on the back of his neck. According to his questionnaire, his hobby is "video games." Good for you, buddy.
There is one cute girl here, though. During our most recent 15 minute break so the lawyers could argue over us I picked an empty spot in the circular hallway and stretched out my tight legs a little. She walked by me twice and the second time she was definitely checking me out. So I got that going for me. Also, I'm vain and even somewhat pathetic for imagining that a potential jury mate was giving me the perv-eye. Guilty.
3:39 - Almost forgot - earlier (lunch break ended at 2:00) someone was late coming back and held everyone up fora full 15 minutes. When she finally arrived, she smiled, looked around the room, said "Waiting for me?" and then giggled. Couldn't determine how benign the giggle was because all my senses were filled with bloodlust.
3:43 - Drats! -- "Selected." One of ten.
3:44 - Silver lining--cute girl is also "Selected."
3:45 - Double Drats! --cute girl is wearing a ring on her finger, not 100% sure it's a wedding ring yet. Keep you posted.
3:46 - Sitting behind cutie waiting for info about trial start. Her pony-tail can be described as being tied "adulterously." In related news, I could be described as a hopeless optimist.
3:52 - Taking a good look around at the rest of my fellow "Selecteds," I'm having a Nick Carraway moment: "Everything for which I have an unaffected scorn."
9:32 - Well. For better or worse, I'm serving on a jury that will decide whether or not an 11yr old girl and her 25yr old mother are awarded a presumably significant amount of money due to Beth Israel Hospital's negligence. The time to mope about my personal stake in this inconvenient service is passed; I might as well attack this thing as honestly as possible.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Happy Ending
Friday, March 2, 2007
10:17pm - Go to hell. Go straight to hell. Footloose.
10:52 - It's time to make it happen. I used to have a blue finger at work til I found some paint thinner. I'm out there baby. A lesbian knows that I love her, evidently. Unfortunately, perhaps. Nonetheless......she's a lady and I'm a man and.............
Time unknown - Skank ho (not my lover) needs a dance partner. No thank you. Sugar Town Hustle is bustin a groove. Oh yeah.
1:18am - Mehdi (Medhi?) is a giant d-bag and I just bought him a shot because he beat me 2 out of 3.
1:20 - I "just blew up a shrimp basket."
1:24 - Def some skanks here ho-ing with their booty-cracks showing. One wearing a see-thru shirt so her black bra is showing too. She got a booty like Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider. That's not good.
1:28 - Just called Mehdi a half-breed. I agree with Drew--that probably crossed the line. Now I'm going to go beat the ass of Matthew the bouncer.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
2:56pm - Got punched in the face by a girl last night. Cheekbone is a little tender this morning. This afternoon, sorry. When you are a degenerate and have so self-control it's hard to keep track of the hemispheres of the day. Speaking of hemispheres, the guy on the radio said that there will be a full lunar eclipse tonight. Fortunately, "night" is a hemisphere I have no trouble keeping straight.
3:06 - Woman tweezing her eyebrows right now next to me on the D train. Just thought that should be noted. She's actually fairly attractive, even with the eyebrows.
10:08 - Nearly drunk again already. Smoked a couple pipe bowls while pervin in Central Park earlier today. Just now amusing myself with Dave about shaming Drew into letting me punch him in the face to avenge last night. I think he'll go for it as a kind of misguided attempt at romance or chivalry. Idiot.
12:06am - At my favorite bar on Rivington. My ignoramous friend just got an education about Rivington and the LES.
12:14 - I didn't get the memo but evidently jaw-line beards are pretty hip. In other news, bags of douche are messy.
12:18 - Two chicks opposite myself in my favorite bar are being made uncomfortable by my admittedly awkward effrontery. One has a man-friend. He's got facial hair on his jaw. I do too, but because I have a beard like a man, not a novelty item. i don't look like a pirate and I don't look like a hipster and I don't look like a Puerto Rican. This is because I am better than you. Yes. Yes. Sorry.
Time unknown - So everbody is eating cupcakes now except me. Dave just bragged about getting 4 beers for $10, which is awesome. Ellie-respect. I'm now being very aggresive and covert--sitting at the cupcake table by myself. Fuck sugar, fuck society.
(Also time unknown - here a renegade journalist picked up my bad and said disparaging things about me, insulting my attire, my sexuality, and calling me the d-word numerous times. Shame. On you.)
Time unknown - D-bag superstars.
2:38 - I'm engaged to be married right now. It was beautiful--I got down on one knee, she got emotional and awkward, it was awesome. But she was still wearing the paper ring I gave her 20+ minutes later. This one's gonna last, baby. I love that ho. Baby. I love that ho-baby.
Happy Ending
Friday, March 2, 2007
10:17pm - Go to hell. Go straight to hell. Footloose.
10:52 - It's time to make it happen. I used to have a blue finger at work til I found some paint thinner. I'm out there baby. A lesbian knows that I love her, evidently. Unfortunately, perhaps. Nonetheless......she's a lady and I'm a man and.............
Time unknown - Skank ho (not my lover) needs a dance partner. No thank you. Sugar Town Hustle is bustin a groove. Oh yeah.
1:18am - Mehdi (Medhi?) is a giant d-bag and I just bought him a shot because he beat me 2 out of 3.
1:20 - I "just blew up a shrimp basket."
1:24 - Def some skanks here ho-ing with their booty-cracks showing. One wearing a see-thru shirt so her black bra is showing too. She got a booty like Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider. That's not good.
1:28 - Just called Mehdi a half-breed. I agree with Drew--that probably crossed the line. Now I'm going to go beat the ass of Matthew the bouncer.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
2:56pm - Got punched in the face by a girl last night. Cheekbone is a little tender this morning. This afternoon, sorry. When you are a degenerate and have so self-control it's hard to keep track of the hemispheres of the day. Speaking of hemispheres, the guy on the radio said that there will be a full lunar eclipse tonight. Fortunately, "night" is a hemisphere I have no trouble keeping straight.
3:06 - Woman tweezing her eyebrows right now next to me on the D train. Just thought that should be noted. She's actually fairly attractive, even with the eyebrows.
10:08 - Nearly drunk again already. Smoked a couple pipe bowls while pervin in Central Park earlier today. Just now amusing myself with Dave about shaming Drew into letting me punch him in the face to avenge last night. I think he'll go for it as a kind of misguided attempt at romance or chivalry. Idiot.
12:06am - At my favorite bar on Rivington. My ignoramous friend just got an education about Rivington and the LES.
12:14 - I didn't get the memo but evidently jaw-line beards are pretty hip. In other news, bags of douche are messy.
12:18 - Two chicks opposite myself in my favorite bar are being made uncomfortable by my admittedly awkward effrontery. One has a man-friend. He's got facial hair on his jaw. I do too, but because I have a beard like a man, not a novelty item. i don't look like a pirate and I don't look like a hipster and I don't look like a Puerto Rican. This is because I am better than you. Yes. Yes. Sorry.
Time unknown - So everbody is eating cupcakes now except me. Dave just bragged about getting 4 beers for $10, which is awesome. Ellie-respect. I'm now being very aggresive and covert--sitting at the cupcake table by myself. Fuck sugar, fuck society.
(Also time unknown - here a renegade journalist picked up my bad and said disparaging things about me, insulting my attire, my sexuality, and calling me the d-word numerous times. Shame. On you.)
Time unknown - D-bag superstars.
2:38 - I'm engaged to be married right now. It was beautiful--I got down on one knee, she got emotional and awkward, it was awesome. But she was still wearing the paper ring I gave her 20+ minutes later. This one's gonna last, baby. I love that ho. Baby. I love that ho-baby.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Leftovers: S.I. Adventure: Ann
Ann. A-n-n. Yes I think that's way her mother must have spelled it. Simple.
Ann announced herself to us on Saturday night through Drew, I think, at what must have been near 1:30AM at an unbelievable (not necessarily in a good way) bar close to the business end of the Staten Island Ferry. Personally, my introduction to her was when Dave handed me her bottle of champagne (which she brought into the bar) to open for her. As we would learn later, Ann likes her champagne--she had a bottle of Kristal in her car--and the very same bottle that I opened for her she chose to user as a chaser for some mystery pills she consumed just before getting behind the wheel.
Ann claimed to be 50, acted 30, wanted to us to think she was acting 20, and had the social maturity and discipline of someone not older than 10. She could run on the charred fumes from her night with us for weeks, whereas all of us presumably hoped to wash her out of us as fast as possible, much in the same way that I desired to wash the dense smokiness out of my clothes from that night, a consequence of The Real McCoy's flagrant spitting in the face of Mike Bloomberg.
Ann looked like Wonderwoman in the same way that Ronald Reagan in that Genesis video looked like the real Ronald Reagan. Squat, squishy dough-faced, huge saggy boobs, saggy everything for that matter, all with a not-thin sheen of cosmetics. By all that's holy, she looked like she should have been working in a booth at a flea market.
Evidently her husband, a 35yr old Hispanic named Gil, owned a club that was once rumored to be Scores. (Alas this was a brief rumor.) Even though Ann claimed to be a Sicilian queen, and therefore required sex "three times a day," she readily admitting to never having consummated her curious relationship with Gil.
She failed to make the correct turn off the Verrazano Bridge and very nearly made it to Coney Island before realizing the mistake, this after waiting quite a bit too long to make her exit and plowing through a row of orange piping like a combine taking down a row of corn. Admittedly it must have been tough for her to focus, what with the 95mph traffic slalom we executed while crossing the bridge, lord knows it had me literally hugging the headrest of the seat in front of me.
As if simple drunkenness or the general euphoric intoxication caused by a day spent in Richmond County were not enough to sufficiently terrify four naive Manhattanites, Ann decided that she needed a pick-me-up at the beginning of the trip. This came in the form of some unidentified pills, which as pointed out above she promptly chased with champagne. Several minutes later, I'm not sure if this was before or after crossing the Verrazano, she swiveled around to face the back seat and asked for her glasses, which she assured us would probably help. I assured myself that I'd hold on a little tighter to the headrest in front of me.
Ann also claimed to have lived with a woman for eight years before finding out that she was a lesbian ("she" being the roommate). Ann said of course that was ok with her, cause "I can go either way," but that the roommate wasn't her type because she weighed approximately 300lbs. All of this story was relayed to us while she drove the car with only her left hand. Her right hand was caressing Devon's thigh.
There were many other fantastic things that came out of Ann's mouth, the enormity of which caused me to, without any hint of melodrama, exclaim that I wished I had a tape recorder; however, I was both drunk and expending all of my energies trying to retain bodily fluids which were dying to exit my anus, penis, and mouth simultaneously. Just know this: Ann was a beast. A terrifying beast with heels, a hideous accent, and more ridiculously implausible one-liners and stories than even four adventurous souls could ever hope to collectively remember.
Leftovers: S.I. Adventure: Ann
Ann. A-n-n. Yes I think that's way her mother must have spelled it. Simple.
Ann announced herself to us on Saturday night through Drew, I think, at what must have been near 1:30AM at an unbelievable (not necessarily in a good way) bar close to the business end of the Staten Island Ferry. Personally, my introduction to her was when Dave handed me her bottle of champagne (which she brought into the bar) to open for her. As we would learn later, Ann likes her champagne--she had a bottle of Kristal in her car--and the very same bottle that I opened for her she chose to user as a chaser for some mystery pills she consumed just before getting behind the wheel.
Ann claimed to be 50, acted 30, wanted to us to think she was acting 20, and had the social maturity and discipline of someone not older than 10. She could run on the charred fumes from her night with us for weeks, whereas all of us presumably hoped to wash her out of us as fast as possible, much in the same way that I desired to wash the dense smokiness out of my clothes from that night, a consequence of The Real McCoy's flagrant spitting in the face of Mike Bloomberg.
Ann looked like Wonderwoman in the same way that Ronald Reagan in that Genesis video looked like the real Ronald Reagan. Squat, squishy dough-faced, huge saggy boobs, saggy everything for that matter, all with a not-thin sheen of cosmetics. By all that's holy, she looked like she should have been working in a booth at a flea market.
Evidently her husband, a 35yr old Hispanic named Gil, owned a club that was once rumored to be Scores. (Alas this was a brief rumor.) Even though Ann claimed to be a Sicilian queen, and therefore required sex "three times a day," she readily admitting to never having consummated her curious relationship with Gil.
She failed to make the correct turn off the Verrazano Bridge and very nearly made it to Coney Island before realizing the mistake, this after waiting quite a bit too long to make her exit and plowing through a row of orange piping like a combine taking down a row of corn. Admittedly it must have been tough for her to focus, what with the 95mph traffic slalom we executed while crossing the bridge, lord knows it had me literally hugging the headrest of the seat in front of me.
As if simple drunkenness or the general euphoric intoxication caused by a day spent in Richmond County were not enough to sufficiently terrify four naive Manhattanites, Ann decided that she needed a pick-me-up at the beginning of the trip. This came in the form of some unidentified pills, which as pointed out above she promptly chased with champagne. Several minutes later, I'm not sure if this was before or after crossing the Verrazano, she swiveled around to face the back seat and asked for her glasses, which she assured us would probably help. I assured myself that I'd hold on a little tighter to the headrest in front of me.
Ann also claimed to have lived with a woman for eight years before finding out that she was a lesbian ("she" being the roommate). Ann said of course that was ok with her, cause "I can go either way," but that the roommate wasn't her type because she weighed approximately 300lbs. All of this story was relayed to us while she drove the car with only her left hand. Her right hand was caressing Devon's thigh.
There were many other fantastic things that came out of Ann's mouth, the enormity of which caused me to, without any hint of melodrama, exclaim that I wished I had a tape recorder; however, I was both drunk and expending all of my energies trying to retain bodily fluids which were dying to exit my anus, penis, and mouth simultaneously. Just know this: Ann was a beast. A terrifying beast with heels, a hideous accent, and more ridiculously implausible one-liners and stories than even four adventurous souls could ever hope to collectively remember.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
BIANNUAL ISLE OF STATEN PILGRIMMAGE
Saturday, February 3, 2:04PM - Familiar refrain--getting a slow start today. Lots of long nights. That's ok though, cause there's no need to rush today. Need to be good and primed for the Biannual Isle of Staten Pilgrimmage. It's colder than I expected today, might be a rough crossing of the Harbor. I just hope we all make it. [Ed note - foreshadowing: indeed it was a decidedly rough crossing, but coming back, not heading out]
4:36PM - Applebee's. I don't really need to say more than that, but I will. 2 for 1 Killians. Not complaining. Little done already. Real S.I. talent hasn't presented itself yet. I'm talking about the robotically hot 13yr old from America's Ballroom Challenge now, of course. Bus ride wasn't too bad. Shamefully failed to complete the crossword from the Staten Island Advance. Babies crapping. Corn chips forever. No speedos at Champs Sports.
6:23PM - We've moved into hour 3 at Applebee's. [Ed - is there an apostrophe in that?] Giant frozen margaritas. Check. Gold chain worn on top of a t-shirt. Check. 40yr old douche with a blue tooth thing in while eating. Check. Me and Devon fighting for the right to annihilate the vagina of our waitress, whose name is Jennifer. Check.
7:23PM - "This is kinda cool. Never been in a mall drunk before." "Let's follow him. I got no place else to be than right here." Got to stop giggling. Just ripped some awesome ass right outside a Sephora.
8:28PM - Asked a big fat black dude with a seriously unkempt tie at a Bed Bath & Beyond in a strip mall next to the mall where to find some bars. Tells us Forest Avenue. We say--huh? He says, after looking us up and down, "Wait a minute......y'all aint from Staten Island, are you?" To the Eltingville bus depot we go.
10:17PM - S.I. Bay St. Sleepy bar. No darts. $9 Bud pitchers. Just flatulated. Hope everyone respects my feelings now. Hell of a scene here. Anti-scene is more appropriate. Butt ugly drunk chick singing with a jacketed fellow. She's got an underbite.
10:30PM - Eltingville Special--69 a chick, with the man on top. Man sharts. Woman licks the shart off man's balls. Valducci--any premeditated sexual shart.
Time unknown - "I have no waste to expel from my body. Just beautiful whispers of gas from my anus." - Dave
2:37AM - This night has officially entered the surreal. Actually that happened about 90 min ago. What's just happened is really beyond words. I'm the hero of an S.I. dude. Some lady asked me to open her bottle of champagne. That is not innuendo. She claims to be married to the owner of Scores. Yeah and she's giving us a ride back to Manhattan. Devon is dancing slow-style with giant Hell's Angels rejects. I could go on and on but cause I have the shakes and am questionably about to vomit, I won't.
2:41AM - One of the Hell's Angels rejects just looked me up and down and asked, "What the hell is that all about?" I said, "What?" He laughed like he just heard and in-joke and said, "Nevermind." Apparently the locals don't appreciate the sweater/tie/jacket/scarf/crossed-legs combo. Oh well. Sic transit gloria.
2:43AM - "That foot-stomping is making me fart." - me, to Dave
Sunday PM - Last night, during one of several step-outsides at S.I.'s The Real McCoy bar, necessitated by the sheer ridiculousness inside, requiring a little solemn solitary digestion--such as would happen to a principled gentleman while viewing a snuff film--I was approached by two nerds. Nerd One asked me something about someone sitting in his bedroom, hoping that my opinion would settle an argument. During this, Nerd Two laughed, stopped Nerd One and said, while gesturing at me, "Hey this guy kinda looks like you.......Haha........Man, that's you in five years." Sic transit gloria, indeed.
BIANNUAL ISLE OF STATEN PILGRIMMAGE
Saturday, February 3, 2:04PM - Familiar refrain--getting a slow start today. Lots of long nights. That's ok though, cause there's no need to rush today. Need to be good and primed for the Biannual Isle of Staten Pilgrimmage. It's colder than I expected today, might be a rough crossing of the Harbor. I just hope we all make it. [Ed note - foreshadowing: indeed it was a decidedly rough crossing, but coming back, not heading out]
4:36PM - Applebee's. I don't really need to say more than that, but I will. 2 for 1 Killians. Not complaining. Little done already. Real S.I. talent hasn't presented itself yet. I'm talking about the robotically hot 13yr old from America's Ballroom Challenge now, of course. Bus ride wasn't too bad. Shamefully failed to complete the crossword from the Staten Island Advance. Babies crapping. Corn chips forever. No speedos at Champs Sports.
6:23PM - We've moved into hour 3 at Applebee's. [Ed - is there an apostrophe in that?] Giant frozen margaritas. Check. Gold chain worn on top of a t-shirt. Check. 40yr old douche with a blue tooth thing in while eating. Check. Me and Devon fighting for the right to annihilate the vagina of our waitress, whose name is Jennifer. Check.
7:23PM - "This is kinda cool. Never been in a mall drunk before." "Let's follow him. I got no place else to be than right here." Got to stop giggling. Just ripped some awesome ass right outside a Sephora.
8:28PM - Asked a big fat black dude with a seriously unkempt tie at a Bed Bath & Beyond in a strip mall next to the mall where to find some bars. Tells us Forest Avenue. We say--huh? He says, after looking us up and down, "Wait a minute......y'all aint from Staten Island, are you?" To the Eltingville bus depot we go.
10:17PM - S.I. Bay St. Sleepy bar. No darts. $9 Bud pitchers. Just flatulated. Hope everyone respects my feelings now. Hell of a scene here. Anti-scene is more appropriate. Butt ugly drunk chick singing with a jacketed fellow. She's got an underbite.
10:30PM - Eltingville Special--69 a chick, with the man on top. Man sharts. Woman licks the shart off man's balls. Valducci--any premeditated sexual shart.
Time unknown - "I have no waste to expel from my body. Just beautiful whispers of gas from my anus." - Dave
2:37AM - This night has officially entered the surreal. Actually that happened about 90 min ago. What's just happened is really beyond words. I'm the hero of an S.I. dude. Some lady asked me to open her bottle of champagne. That is not innuendo. She claims to be married to the owner of Scores. Yeah and she's giving us a ride back to Manhattan. Devon is dancing slow-style with giant Hell's Angels rejects. I could go on and on but cause I have the shakes and am questionably about to vomit, I won't.
2:41AM - One of the Hell's Angels rejects just looked me up and down and asked, "What the hell is that all about?" I said, "What?" He laughed like he just heard and in-joke and said, "Nevermind." Apparently the locals don't appreciate the sweater/tie/jacket/scarf/crossed-legs combo. Oh well. Sic transit gloria.
2:43AM - "That foot-stomping is making me fart." - me, to Dave
Sunday PM - Last night, during one of several step-outsides at S.I.'s The Real McCoy bar, necessitated by the sheer ridiculousness inside, requiring a little solemn solitary digestion--such as would happen to a principled gentleman while viewing a snuff film--I was approached by two nerds. Nerd One asked me something about someone sitting in his bedroom, hoping that my opinion would settle an argument. During this, Nerd Two laughed, stopped Nerd One and said, while gesturing at me, "Hey this guy kinda looks like you.......Haha........Man, that's you in five years." Sic transit gloria, indeed.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
HAMSGIVING 2007
1:04PM - david and myself are 24 mcnuggets into the first ever hamsgiving. pounded off almost a whole hock of ham last night. got drunk. slept on top of a bottle of gin. woke up, headache, whats colder than ice cold. drinking first Folg of the day, replenished mtn dew supply. bacon, sausage, veal, pork, beef, salami, tenderloin, shrimp, meatloaf, turkey, and of course ham are currently in residence with us here. hordes of meat lovers are currently making the pilgrimmage to the slope like the three wisemen seeking out the messiah. he's born in poverty and will feed the masses. with dead beasts.
2:31PM - we got a barfing baby. we've also got tacos. going to play some frozen cornhole soon. probably just exhibition matches. purportedly scotty busted up a nine year relationship and is passively courting a crazy chick. i say bang away, treat it like an experiment. bet he doesn't. about 10 people in the kitchen. chad is pathologically washing dishes. ate some pork tenderloin, it's good. slightly better than mcnuggets. had some taco too. clint ate some raw cheese-filled hot dog. bless him. my fingers are now constantly oily with the residue of dead beast.
4:17PM - meat sweats. not literally, apparently it's a drink. apparently i just indulged myself. dave: "it's like i dove into the ocean and left my mouth open." whiskey with a bit of beef bouillon. i don't know how to spell that word, probably. i'm making Folg converts. at least one. i think my brow just perspired. we're going to do a circle jerk onto the magnificent meat cake that we've been recently blessed with. meatballs. fried chicken. drew is upping the ante, claiming the king of hamsgiving is the one to eat raw meat. til later, a quote from an impressed outsider: "best hamsgiving i've ever been to."
6:19PM - american spirit. "oh my god--beaver." sausage tape. ellie. whore. wine opener in the meat cake. i got a shower and i feel like a champ. washed all the meat oil leaking from my pores like old faithful. pump it up. spam patties lying around too long, nazi homemaker chad martha stewart hermiller going nuts drew throw this away drew clean this up aarghh. fingers smell like nicotine. not sure if i know how to spell that word either. where the fuck is the wonger with the wii and the coke. white collar anger. like i deserve it. like it's owed to me. dave took a picture of me in the shower. dong is a dong does. dead fish on tv. feeling ok. dave has a point--we're 24 hours into meat exclusivity and unfathomably i have no cravings for starch, chlorophyll, or natural sugars. i just want some more ham. or a swedish meatball. i'm going to barf on somebody's cock. "all night tonight we're leavign frasca messages." "tonight......you." "i don't know if i believe in god, but if i did, i know he doesn't like me, cause he allowed you to make a dog that constantly rapes me." there's a sugar sirloin right near me. blasphemous i don't know.
7:59PM - the kingsmen, i think. lots o folks dancin. susan chose to suck a Folg, on her own. chad was present. loser. hos was scared of a daddy-long-legs crawling up the wall, asked me to kill it, unhesitatingly i wailed it with my right hand. in the spirit of a meatlicious hamsgiving i enthusiastically licked the remnants off my palm. hos (ellie + mbeth) were terrified but i was legitimized by the masses.
we got revolutionary war names to celebrate the hamsgiving founders and other notable participants:
me: ben franklin: i inadvertantly invented this whole shindig, then seemingly didnt care much about it but celebrated as crazily as anyone.
dave: tom jefferson: created the term "hamsgiving," turned a fine idea into a communally awesome undertaking.
devon: paul revere: not part of the genesis but was immenintely present throughout creation, integral to spread of the fantastic idea. couldn't have happened without her hard work
drew: john hancock: made a big fucking fuss but not really important at all
chad: george III: technically it's his house but everyone is against him and his tyrannical rule, aka cleaning
erin + friends: the french: we were plugging along like some champs but then they should up and legitimized everything with their awesomeness and unflappable support.
scotty: the indians: who knows if we can trust him, who knows who's side he's on, but out of nowhere he shows up and dominates.
10:16PM - my arm's been sufficiently twisted. took my pants off. shirt too, but that's just superfluous after the pants. nonetheless, it's very welcome. who doesn't love some man parts?
i've been yanked at like the coppertone baby. cept i don't have no tan lines. hollywood. sweet. smokes and smooth dance moooves. woman named kate is doing a fine job. dancin is a good thing for ol jfolg. tried hard to recreate thanksgiving pose but dwelt is actin shy. dongsgiving. nut parade. chad wanted to castrate me earlier for jumping on the floor while a record was playing. so i jumped some more. i love chad. he loves me. i taught his wo-man how to dance. epicocity. rubbed a mop handle on lindsey's coot. she like. rad like lori loughlin.
it's way too early to be checking out but it seems like just that is taking place. hamsgiving comes only once a year. though we're in cahoots for a veggiegiving and a calorie day. calorie day might change monikers but we're going for 15,000 por un dia. walter payton. kentucky gentleman.
to dutch doctor a whore you must first bone her traditionally, preferably (another word i can;t spell) missionary. then, unbeknownst to her, yank it out, as if you're about to blow her face apart. instead, pull a set of forceps out for under the bed. stab the ho in the neck, hard. open the forceps like you're looking for a staph infection of somethin nasty. wait for the hole to achieve sufficient largeness. then stick your ragining boner in the open neck hole. bone away. ideally release man essence as she's finishing off her death retches. dutch doctor. walter payton.
HAMSGIVING 2007
1:04PM - david and myself are 24 mcnuggets into the first ever hamsgiving. pounded off almost a whole hock of ham last night. got drunk. slept on top of a bottle of gin. woke up, headache, whats colder than ice cold. drinking first Folg of the day, replenished mtn dew supply. bacon, sausage, veal, pork, beef, salami, tenderloin, shrimp, meatloaf, turkey, and of course ham are currently in residence with us here. hordes of meat lovers are currently making the pilgrimmage to the slope like the three wisemen seeking out the messiah. he's born in poverty and will feed the masses. with dead beasts.
2:31PM - we got a barfing baby. we've also got tacos. going to play some frozen cornhole soon. probably just exhibition matches. purportedly scotty busted up a nine year relationship and is passively courting a crazy chick. i say bang away, treat it like an experiment. bet he doesn't. about 10 people in the kitchen. chad is pathologically washing dishes. ate some pork tenderloin, it's good. slightly better than mcnuggets. had some taco too. clint ate some raw cheese-filled hot dog. bless him. my fingers are now constantly oily with the residue of dead beast.
4:17PM - meat sweats. not literally, apparently it's a drink. apparently i just indulged myself. dave: "it's like i dove into the ocean and left my mouth open." whiskey with a bit of beef bouillon. i don't know how to spell that word, probably. i'm making Folg converts. at least one. i think my brow just perspired. we're going to do a circle jerk onto the magnificent meat cake that we've been recently blessed with. meatballs. fried chicken. drew is upping the ante, claiming the king of hamsgiving is the one to eat raw meat. til later, a quote from an impressed outsider: "best hamsgiving i've ever been to."
6:19PM - american spirit. "oh my god--beaver." sausage tape. ellie. whore. wine opener in the meat cake. i got a shower and i feel like a champ. washed all the meat oil leaking from my pores like old faithful. pump it up. spam patties lying around too long, nazi homemaker chad martha stewart hermiller going nuts drew throw this away drew clean this up aarghh. fingers smell like nicotine. not sure if i know how to spell that word either. where the fuck is the wonger with the wii and the coke. white collar anger. like i deserve it. like it's owed to me. dave took a picture of me in the shower. dong is a dong does. dead fish on tv. feeling ok. dave has a point--we're 24 hours into meat exclusivity and unfathomably i have no cravings for starch, chlorophyll, or natural sugars. i just want some more ham. or a swedish meatball. i'm going to barf on somebody's cock. "all night tonight we're leavign frasca messages." "tonight......you." "i don't know if i believe in god, but if i did, i know he doesn't like me, cause he allowed you to make a dog that constantly rapes me." there's a sugar sirloin right near me. blasphemous i don't know.
7:59PM - the kingsmen, i think. lots o folks dancin. susan chose to suck a Folg, on her own. chad was present. loser. hos was scared of a daddy-long-legs crawling up the wall, asked me to kill it, unhesitatingly i wailed it with my right hand. in the spirit of a meatlicious hamsgiving i enthusiastically licked the remnants off my palm. hos (ellie + mbeth) were terrified but i was legitimized by the masses.
we got revolutionary war names to celebrate the hamsgiving founders and other notable participants:
me: ben franklin: i inadvertantly invented this whole shindig, then seemingly didnt care much about it but celebrated as crazily as anyone.
dave: tom jefferson: created the term "hamsgiving," turned a fine idea into a communally awesome undertaking.
devon: paul revere: not part of the genesis but was immenintely present throughout creation, integral to spread of the fantastic idea. couldn't have happened without her hard work
drew: john hancock: made a big fucking fuss but not really important at all
chad: george III: technically it's his house but everyone is against him and his tyrannical rule, aka cleaning
erin + friends: the french: we were plugging along like some champs but then they should up and legitimized everything with their awesomeness and unflappable support.
scotty: the indians: who knows if we can trust him, who knows who's side he's on, but out of nowhere he shows up and dominates.
10:16PM - my arm's been sufficiently twisted. took my pants off. shirt too, but that's just superfluous after the pants. nonetheless, it's very welcome. who doesn't love some man parts?
i've been yanked at like the coppertone baby. cept i don't have no tan lines. hollywood. sweet. smokes and smooth dance moooves. woman named kate is doing a fine job. dancin is a good thing for ol jfolg. tried hard to recreate thanksgiving pose but dwelt is actin shy. dongsgiving. nut parade. chad wanted to castrate me earlier for jumping on the floor while a record was playing. so i jumped some more. i love chad. he loves me. i taught his wo-man how to dance. epicocity. rubbed a mop handle on lindsey's coot. she like. rad like lori loughlin.
it's way too early to be checking out but it seems like just that is taking place. hamsgiving comes only once a year. though we're in cahoots for a veggiegiving and a calorie day. calorie day might change monikers but we're going for 15,000 por un dia. walter payton. kentucky gentleman.
to dutch doctor a whore you must first bone her traditionally, preferably (another word i can;t spell) missionary. then, unbeknownst to her, yank it out, as if you're about to blow her face apart. instead, pull a set of forceps out for under the bed. stab the ho in the neck, hard. open the forceps like you're looking for a staph infection of somethin nasty. wait for the hole to achieve sufficient largeness. then stick your ragining boner in the open neck hole. bone away. ideally release man essence as she's finishing off her death retches. dutch doctor. walter payton.
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