kebop 6.22.05
yesterday was the longest day of the year. so, drinking ensued. funny how a lot of people have tuesday evening plans. but i had some company- gully/ nicky brooklyn, her friend cat, and friend douglas, mjunior, haylz, starla, marea, pixel and jamie, eben cripplefinger and his nurse nascar anna, rini, and victor who left early. all chillin in the back of DBA until we had to fill our stomachs.
today i was eben cripplefinger's hands for a VERY long trip to a doctor's office, where no one knew what mr cripplefinger had to do. good times.
cobble hill is much the same, but more park-slope-yuppie than before.
the mermaid parade is this saturday. it's holiday's last mermaid parde. who wants to come with me?
Monday, June 20, 2005
Southpaw Plus 6.20.05
Saturday was a camp meeting and finally a meeting of 3/4 of the secret helicopter society - myself, Niffer, and Rini. Niffer's building has a backyard and we sat on deck hairs, drinking wine and enjoying one of the last cool nights we would have, catching up.
We also went dancing at Southpaw and those two left me with Ali Pack, Rizzle, and friends. Cesar came, and Gully didn't go inside. Cesar agrees, Gully, you is a punk. Here are some pictures of Ali Pack and her people. Despite Ali Pack's assertion, I was not hard on the mack.
p.s. it's almost the first day of summer. we're all going out. on the 21st. the longest day of the year. the opening of summer. give me suggestions, there will be an email later.
Saturday was a camp meeting and finally a meeting of 3/4 of the secret helicopter society - myself, Niffer, and Rini. Niffer's building has a backyard and we sat on deck hairs, drinking wine and enjoying one of the last cool nights we would have, catching up.
We also went dancing at Southpaw and those two left me with Ali Pack, Rizzle, and friends. Cesar came, and Gully didn't go inside. Cesar agrees, Gully, you is a punk. Here are some pictures of Ali Pack and her people. Despite Ali Pack's assertion, I was not hard on the mack.
p.s. it's almost the first day of summer. we're all going out. on the 21st. the longest day of the year. the opening of summer. give me suggestions, there will be an email later.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Airborne/ Fracture 6.17.05
A couple of days ago, Eben took a header on the Williamsburg Bridge, avoiding some dumbass who didn't understand "don't swerve" and "don't collide." As such, one hand is fractured and the other has a badly broken middle finger.
I would tell you all to call him with sympathies, thinking he'll not be able to use his middle finger. Eben would say "for design work" but I know his middle finger is used to express his "feelings." He informed me that he will have a large splint, and as such, he can express those feelings louder than before.
Echh, wish him well. But I am not offering to go over and wash his back.
A couple of days ago, Eben took a header on the Williamsburg Bridge, avoiding some dumbass who didn't understand "don't swerve" and "don't collide." As such, one hand is fractured and the other has a badly broken middle finger.
I would tell you all to call him with sympathies, thinking he'll not be able to use his middle finger. Eben would say "for design work" but I know his middle finger is used to express his "feelings." He informed me that he will have a large splint, and as such, he can express those feelings louder than before.
Echh, wish him well. But I am not offering to go over and wash his back.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
New Blog!
Thanks to the efforts of neverecho and mjr we have a sports blog, at sixstarcamp.blogspot.com. check it out. add it to your links. make suggestions.
Thanks to the efforts of neverecho and mjr we have a sports blog, at sixstarcamp.blogspot.com. check it out. add it to your links. make suggestions.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
MSN Advice Minute
Neverecho likes to poke at MSN's advice section. Here's one about a fella dating a woman who doesn't like to kiss. She considers it a violation of her personal space. I dated a woman who didn't like to kiss. After a while, I just assumed she was a hooker and moved on.
Neverecho likes to poke at MSN's advice section. Here's one about a fella dating a woman who doesn't like to kiss. She considers it a violation of her personal space. I dated a woman who didn't like to kiss. After a while, I just assumed she was a hooker and moved on.
Returns 6.15.05
finally some weather that doesn't burn to the touch; and just in time for the return of my dear friend rini from the left coast (driving with sister gabi). i'm excited not only to have my friend back but to also get back the person who is my positive inspiration, the person for whom "can't" is mostly a joke.
expect events. like going to this saturday's Rub @ Southpaw.
last night i watched nbc's baby hit me one more time. the concept: washed up bands from the 80's and early 90's return to play half of their one hit and then play some of modern hits by ryan cabrera and los lonely boys and other acts i have not actually heard. and with the exception of arrested development, who still sounded as good as ever, the show was an embarrassing cavalcade of beer guts and thinning hair and tiffany's exposed rack. vote for me! i have boobies! i think you're alone now, tiff.
finally some weather that doesn't burn to the touch; and just in time for the return of my dear friend rini from the left coast (driving with sister gabi). i'm excited not only to have my friend back but to also get back the person who is my positive inspiration, the person for whom "can't" is mostly a joke.
expect events. like going to this saturday's Rub @ Southpaw.
last night i watched nbc's baby hit me one more time. the concept: washed up bands from the 80's and early 90's return to play half of their one hit and then play some of modern hits by ryan cabrera and los lonely boys and other acts i have not actually heard. and with the exception of arrested development, who still sounded as good as ever, the show was an embarrassing cavalcade of beer guts and thinning hair and tiffany's exposed rack. vote for me! i have boobies! i think you're alone now, tiff.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Place 6.14.05
after last wednesday i spent a few days trying to clean up my cough, get my voice back. friday was an important day, after all-- diana was holding a fundraiser for our camp kids, and i figured it's always good to have a person on hand who has been with the camp for a few years, in case people ask about it.
there was gargling and throat drops and sleep-inducing pills and hot nights wondering if i would ever be the same. but in this time, i thought back to the diplo show and something the rice-a-homie said which always rings true for the two of us. we're often in places where we feel uncomfortable, places where we can't get into the flow. spots that are too indie rock or too serious or too tooly. and this was a week of slipping in between the fences, re-finding where the pico fits. here's the tale.
friday comes around and i still rasp my words, clear my throat-- but i can be understood. in fact, i sounded kind of badass, a little method man- sounding. if gully wasn't right about the voice being "so over" then i could have given some ladies a late evening aural thrill.
i made it to the fundraiser early - it was held at a bar in upper midtown, and i was the first person on hand. good thing too, because a couple of people came before diana. one of them was a dumpy young lady who will be studying in a former soviet republic on a fulbright scholarship, and she is the crux of this post.
the whole evening i found myself surrounded by women and while that sounds great, it is hard to "pierce the veil" (more philopimpical wisdom from gully) when you are one of three guys. that is fine; i am not in a big "meet the trim" phase right now. more concerned with earning money and the camp and the future and becoming more positive.
the show and tell was good, the event raised money, and i got into many conversations about what people did. they all were high minded, public servants and non-profiteers, busy following their policy hearts into education and into going overseas and helping out poor countries--
and after a while i was like "enough already."
they talked almost like they're showing off. and in a sense they are; proving to me and everyone else that while they are not making money they are doing even better things, exclusive things. it's a conversational velvet rope. and like lana-p's friend-- and even some of our friends on a bad day-- the tendency to talk about the ills of the world serves not only to illuminate their audience but to prove how much they know, how far they have delved into their program area, how serious they are.
differences of style happens all the time. it's okay, it's interesting, it's illuminating. but ever so often, you realize you are not in your place, with people of a similar mindset. i'd rather do public service and not talk about it; i'd rather have more conversations about entertainment or about the person i am talking to, what makes them tick, what makes them happy. then again, their policy area is sometimes what makes a person tick.
perhaps i should be patient with people. but i'd rather be around folks who understand your sense of humor, who tell you about their work not as a flag but as a point of conversation/ interest.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
post-script.
after the fundraiser - i left after talking to margaret from the high school - i saw victor downtown, two sheets to the wind and having a piss of a time with his marvel comics friends. i was easily in step there, people i knew, and music i liked.
saturday i went to the north meadow to lana-p and her birthdaying friend jules. after dropping more coin than i remember on picnic supplies gully and i ended up in central and everyone was hella good people. the only problem was that after playing ultimate frisbee for the first time, i sweat right through a shirt--
and the rains came.
gully and i ran errands downtown- i picked up my camera i had left at the fundraiser thanks to diana. gully got his hair cut and looked for dijah's shoe store.
then to niffer's backyard; her roommate's brother was having a going-away party that was filled with fraternity boys and good eats.
then to some party on prospect with jill c/ ern/ holiday/ lisa/ garth n' elise. good to talk to ern, in town for one night only and then back to alabama.
after last wednesday i spent a few days trying to clean up my cough, get my voice back. friday was an important day, after all-- diana was holding a fundraiser for our camp kids, and i figured it's always good to have a person on hand who has been with the camp for a few years, in case people ask about it.
there was gargling and throat drops and sleep-inducing pills and hot nights wondering if i would ever be the same. but in this time, i thought back to the diplo show and something the rice-a-homie said which always rings true for the two of us. we're often in places where we feel uncomfortable, places where we can't get into the flow. spots that are too indie rock or too serious or too tooly. and this was a week of slipping in between the fences, re-finding where the pico fits. here's the tale.
friday comes around and i still rasp my words, clear my throat-- but i can be understood. in fact, i sounded kind of badass, a little method man- sounding. if gully wasn't right about the voice being "so over" then i could have given some ladies a late evening aural thrill.
i made it to the fundraiser early - it was held at a bar in upper midtown, and i was the first person on hand. good thing too, because a couple of people came before diana. one of them was a dumpy young lady who will be studying in a former soviet republic on a fulbright scholarship, and she is the crux of this post.
the whole evening i found myself surrounded by women and while that sounds great, it is hard to "pierce the veil" (more philopimpical wisdom from gully) when you are one of three guys. that is fine; i am not in a big "meet the trim" phase right now. more concerned with earning money and the camp and the future and becoming more positive.
the show and tell was good, the event raised money, and i got into many conversations about what people did. they all were high minded, public servants and non-profiteers, busy following their policy hearts into education and into going overseas and helping out poor countries--
and after a while i was like "enough already."
they talked almost like they're showing off. and in a sense they are; proving to me and everyone else that while they are not making money they are doing even better things, exclusive things. it's a conversational velvet rope. and like lana-p's friend-- and even some of our friends on a bad day-- the tendency to talk about the ills of the world serves not only to illuminate their audience but to prove how much they know, how far they have delved into their program area, how serious they are.
differences of style happens all the time. it's okay, it's interesting, it's illuminating. but ever so often, you realize you are not in your place, with people of a similar mindset. i'd rather do public service and not talk about it; i'd rather have more conversations about entertainment or about the person i am talking to, what makes them tick, what makes them happy. then again, their policy area is sometimes what makes a person tick.
perhaps i should be patient with people. but i'd rather be around folks who understand your sense of humor, who tell you about their work not as a flag but as a point of conversation/ interest.
post-script.
after the fundraiser - i left after talking to margaret from the high school - i saw victor downtown, two sheets to the wind and having a piss of a time with his marvel comics friends. i was easily in step there, people i knew, and music i liked.
saturday i went to the north meadow to lana-p and her birthdaying friend jules. after dropping more coin than i remember on picnic supplies gully and i ended up in central and everyone was hella good people. the only problem was that after playing ultimate frisbee for the first time, i sweat right through a shirt--
and the rains came.
gully and i ran errands downtown- i picked up my camera i had left at the fundraiser thanks to diana. gully got his hair cut and looked for dijah's shoe store.
then to niffer's backyard; her roommate's brother was having a going-away party that was filled with fraternity boys and good eats.
then to some party on prospect with jill c/ ern/ holiday/ lisa/ garth n' elise. good to talk to ern, in town for one night only and then back to alabama.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
they came back from brazil... changed 6.8.05
- and last night i went to a dj night lana-p's friend linda put together at cuba libre below cafe del mar. it was cute. you should go. and bring your own fan to the basement. it's the new move. all the kids are doing it. you know you want to.
then joined arroz and samantha at rothko for an afterparty for the M.I.A. show-- she i have no love for-- where Diplo was playing. lana-p, sorry to say this...
but it was poppin', the absolute hotness. small place, a bunch of nerds dancing to music that started off questionable. but with the aid of magstar's sister ryanstar and her friend james, we faked it until the party was started.
we think the party was started by the cat in the white polo and the black symbol yankee hat who was clapping his hands in the air. after enthusiasm like that, how could the whole crowd NOT be houserockin', yeah? yeah. the best part of a show/ dance floor is when there are some tight honeys and i am more concerned with throwing down.
i was introduced to the baile funk/ favela booty bass arroz earlier in the evening. samantha and arroz and d sharma went to brazil to bring the basement bhangra funk to sao paolo, and they returned with brazilian booty bass that won't let you stop - the baile funk. arroz played tracks while we were waiting for panini sandwiches in soho after ba baracus aka concrete x had skipped out on us to rest. how a guy with such a pair of names is a psychiatry resident at NYU, i will never know. "i pity the foo' who with schizophrenia" just don't seem to work.
the downside of the baile funk- i didn't yell very much, but my throat was raw from the get go. i had throat drops and was in the process of getting over my cold. by the middle of the night i was having trouble swallowing and since then i have not been able to speak very much. which, by the way, sucks. it hurtss to swallow and it aches to cough. but it's getting better. i think i might have to go and see someone about this little problem if it continues. let's hope i get better. khadijah has the good advice for the raw of throat.
- and last night i went to a dj night lana-p's friend linda put together at cuba libre below cafe del mar. it was cute. you should go. and bring your own fan to the basement. it's the new move. all the kids are doing it. you know you want to.
then joined arroz and samantha at rothko for an afterparty for the M.I.A. show-- she i have no love for-- where Diplo was playing. lana-p, sorry to say this...
but it was poppin', the absolute hotness. small place, a bunch of nerds dancing to music that started off questionable. but with the aid of magstar's sister ryanstar and her friend james, we faked it until the party was started.
we think the party was started by the cat in the white polo and the black symbol yankee hat who was clapping his hands in the air. after enthusiasm like that, how could the whole crowd NOT be houserockin', yeah? yeah. the best part of a show/ dance floor is when there are some tight honeys and i am more concerned with throwing down.
i was introduced to the baile funk/ favela booty bass arroz earlier in the evening. samantha and arroz and d sharma went to brazil to bring the basement bhangra funk to sao paolo, and they returned with brazilian booty bass that won't let you stop - the baile funk. arroz played tracks while we were waiting for panini sandwiches in soho after ba baracus aka concrete x had skipped out on us to rest. how a guy with such a pair of names is a psychiatry resident at NYU, i will never know. "i pity the foo' who with schizophrenia" just don't seem to work.
the downside of the baile funk- i didn't yell very much, but my throat was raw from the get go. i had throat drops and was in the process of getting over my cold. by the middle of the night i was having trouble swallowing and since then i have not been able to speak very much. which, by the way, sucks. it hurtss to swallow and it aches to cough. but it's getting better. i think i might have to go and see someone about this little problem if it continues. let's hope i get better. khadijah has the good advice for the raw of throat.
the updates. 6.8.05
the past few weeks in one post
- still gainfully unemployed. still looking.
- excited because the friends are returning.
- partied with party monster dave s, wrote with mjr before his hawaiian five-o adventure, celebrated haylz' job move into the profit world plus met her friend hope who inspired me to do the Nike sponsored Run Hit Wonder, saw gully and descha, saw silver get lornley on his birthday, actually saw lana-p who seems to have a boy entourage.
- got some new slang. "trim" for the female genitalia, thanks to peter; and "patio" as an aftermath of the term "deck" from pixel. there is an entry for patio... but not as cool as ours, where patio means cool. so, just like when the word of the day is "legs," spread the word.
- have had long discussions with molly about buffy the vampire slayerand angel.
- watched posha get married. it was hot, it was outdoors, the food was great but i over did the spice. that's what my tummy said the next day. damn, my stomach was pumpin' out material like tupac. i caught up with leah and dia and tulip and abe and ian and arif and hina, plus the bride and the groom. and somehow i ended up at a table with cami, who i met at sweatband kurt's kentucky derby party. cami works with a southern yankee named martha. and cami's brother and i laughed about dave brown's giants.
the past few weeks in one post
- still gainfully unemployed. still looking.
- excited because the friends are returning.
- partied with party monster dave s, wrote with mjr before his hawaiian five-o adventure, celebrated haylz' job move into the profit world plus met her friend hope who inspired me to do the Nike sponsored Run Hit Wonder, saw gully and descha, saw silver get lornley on his birthday, actually saw lana-p who seems to have a boy entourage.
- got some new slang. "trim" for the female genitalia, thanks to peter; and "patio" as an aftermath of the term "deck" from pixel. there is an entry for patio... but not as cool as ours, where patio means cool. so, just like when the word of the day is "legs," spread the word.
- have had long discussions with molly about buffy the vampire slayerand angel.
- watched posha get married. it was hot, it was outdoors, the food was great but i over did the spice. that's what my tummy said the next day. damn, my stomach was pumpin' out material like tupac. i caught up with leah and dia and tulip and abe and ian and arif and hina, plus the bride and the groom. and somehow i ended up at a table with cami, who i met at sweatband kurt's kentucky derby party. cami works with a southern yankee named martha. and cami's brother and i laughed about dave brown's giants.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
To Answer Nicky Brooklyn's Question:
*from urbandictionary.com*
a holla back girl:
A girl that is willing to be treated like a doormat or booty call. She is a girl that will allow guys to do whatever they want with her and will just wait for them to 'holla back' at them.
just an FYI.
*from urbandictionary.com*
a holla back girl:
A girl that is willing to be treated like a doormat or booty call. She is a girl that will allow guys to do whatever they want with her and will just wait for them to 'holla back' at them.
just an FYI.
Friday, May 20, 2005
The Music Baton:
passed on from Greg
Total Volume of Music Files on my Computer:
14939 files; 66.21 GB of music
The Last CD I Bought was:
It might have been The Thrills' Let's Bottle Bohemia, which might be one of the 5 worst albums I have ever purchased.
Song playing right now:
Russian Futurists, it's not really cold when it snows
5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:
Minus the Bear, hey! is that a ninja up there?
Ghostface Killah, tooken back
Queen, don't stop me now
De La Soul, i am i be
Dismemberment Plan, face of the earth
(With nods to 5 others:
Hum, suicide machine
Merle Haggard, if we make it through december
Twilight Singers, railroad lullaby
Marvin Gaye, inner city blues (makes me wanna holler)
Sufjan Stevens, detroit, lift your weary head)
I'm passing this along to:
Neverecho,
MJunior,
Pixel,
Silver,
Tobias.
unless gully, hetha, erica, marge, deb, fieser, or fuzzy would like to take up the questions.
passed on from Greg
Total Volume of Music Files on my Computer:
14939 files; 66.21 GB of music
The Last CD I Bought was:
It might have been The Thrills' Let's Bottle Bohemia, which might be one of the 5 worst albums I have ever purchased.
Song playing right now:
Russian Futurists, it's not really cold when it snows
5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:
Minus the Bear, hey! is that a ninja up there?
Ghostface Killah, tooken back
Queen, don't stop me now
De La Soul, i am i be
Dismemberment Plan, face of the earth
(With nods to 5 others:
Hum, suicide machine
Merle Haggard, if we make it through december
Twilight Singers, railroad lullaby
Marvin Gaye, inner city blues (makes me wanna holler)
Sufjan Stevens, detroit, lift your weary head)
I'm passing this along to:
Neverecho,
MJunior,
Pixel,
Silver,
Tobias.
unless gully, hetha, erica, marge, deb, fieser, or fuzzy would like to take up the questions.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
where's summer? is she smoking the salmon herself? 5.19.05
i love how a funeral brings a family together. and brings tate donovan back, looking svelte and sharp. i like him better in non-black suits but... what's with that shit eating grin? and sister haley is back. i like the way she takes off her overshirt. nice stretch. ladies, learn that method. so far, this is crappy. seth and summer all holding hands. talking sensitive. where is the effing drama? on 90210, they wrote off that blonde kid with a gunshot and a scenes from the next episode. i'm a heartless bastard. sandy cohen, though, gets in a dig or two: a terrible father in law; and if you can't rest in peace, i am sure heaven could use a few more mcmansions.
the kirsten drink count! we have a new drinking game! we're on 2 already... full bottle, a wobble, and argument, and a smash!
we begin with a treatment center, before the funeral; sandy is sensitive and wants to "keep it brief." i bet an intervention is coming. they were great on HBO's lifestories. and seth discovers the brochure for the treatment center! you know, kiki don't look like no drunk. knowing she's a raw-food-ist, i wonder what they make her drink instead of liquor. does a raw foods diet preclude liquor? isn't vodka processed potato? ahh, it can be made from processed grain, or grapes.
and now... the intervention. kiki strikes back. is it me or does seth just not seem like kiki's son at all? they're not very mother/ daughter- i mean son.
it's 8.45 and kiki's going to rehab? waaaaaaay too early. she's gonna run away. and next season say "seth can do it, why can't i?" but for now, she's contrite.
++++++++
gamma rays of hate shooting out of your eyeballs? 1 girl, 2 brothers, it's all a little legends of the fall. -summer
and yet another revenge of the sith video game product shot! and another bravery song, honest mistake. i hear this song... uh, too much. the kids go to the bait shop in search of relief from the tensions of life; little do they know they are about top face the harsh reality of asian gangsters and gunfire. that place is So going to have metal detectors next season.
oh... drama. trey and bimbo are... snxxxxx.... gun.... snxxx.... cocaine.... snxxxx.
seth - we just came from my grandfather's funeral.
trampy blonde - well. he's probably pretty old.
"who's the bitch now, huh?" trampy blonde says. isn't that the catch phrase from "the new guy" starring dj qualls and jermaine dupri? but- yo, trampy newport girl done buss off a shot! or would y'all prefer "lick off a shot?" maybe "squeeze some reounds?" or "buck one?"
the trampy girl is jess. ryan's heard it all before from his brother. but did y'all know trey's really british? like mischa? and ryan lays down the "you gotta go" law. don't we all want to see ryan go off the stanford or berkeley and become a sensitive poet, rehashing james dean and writing furiously under the influence of coffee, a couple of skinny suburban girls working on their theater lines and talking about moving to new york? maybe he just needs to go to NYU. but then he'll become a criminal. or this criminal. or this criminal. or maybe trey should go to nyu with trashy. and while there he can adopt a british accent-- which the actor, Logan Marshall Green, actually has in real life. okay, NYU kids, respond away.
oh, no! rissa has a boo-boo! she was near gunfire! and summer is the good times, take care of people kid we all love. she's a care bear with care bear countdown powers! she's good mood bear! therapy bear? exposition of character emotion bear?
++++++++
tate/ jimmy cooper wants to stay in newport? with julie coop? marisa comes home to find her parents... together! but isn't it creepy to take over caleb's house? is marisa happy or... conflicted? and the mystery other child is coming home?
++++++++
the way things have been going i bet that's oliver. -seth
hey, how come ryan's so effing pale? ryan resolves to settle it with trey once and for all... trampy wants to go to vegas with trey? steal her stepdad's beamer? what a naughty naughty girl!
ryan - what are you gonna do, shoot me? is that how this ends?
trey - how this ends is up to you, says trey.
ryan walks away, seemingly afraid of the gun in trey's hand. trey puts down the piece and ryan tackles him low. excellent technique. ryan has a future in football. there is a beating, the table breaks- and marisa shoots him? in the back? don't worry, trey is alive. she hit the other side of the chest, away from the heart. man, the oc is hard. dudes get shot in the back by cosmogirl. whatever that song was, the one playing in the heartfelt moments, it has to go.
was that repetitive and annoying tune a ryan adams song?
and we have to get "what are you gonna do, shoot me?" out of the american phrase book.
i love how a funeral brings a family together. and brings tate donovan back, looking svelte and sharp. i like him better in non-black suits but... what's with that shit eating grin? and sister haley is back. i like the way she takes off her overshirt. nice stretch. ladies, learn that method. so far, this is crappy. seth and summer all holding hands. talking sensitive. where is the effing drama? on 90210, they wrote off that blonde kid with a gunshot and a scenes from the next episode. i'm a heartless bastard. sandy cohen, though, gets in a dig or two: a terrible father in law; and if you can't rest in peace, i am sure heaven could use a few more mcmansions.
the kirsten drink count! we have a new drinking game! we're on 2 already... full bottle, a wobble, and argument, and a smash!
we begin with a treatment center, before the funeral; sandy is sensitive and wants to "keep it brief." i bet an intervention is coming. they were great on HBO's lifestories. and seth discovers the brochure for the treatment center! you know, kiki don't look like no drunk. knowing she's a raw-food-ist, i wonder what they make her drink instead of liquor. does a raw foods diet preclude liquor? isn't vodka processed potato? ahh, it can be made from processed grain, or grapes.
and now... the intervention. kiki strikes back. is it me or does seth just not seem like kiki's son at all? they're not very mother/ daughter- i mean son.
it's 8.45 and kiki's going to rehab? waaaaaaay too early. she's gonna run away. and next season say "seth can do it, why can't i?" but for now, she's contrite.
gamma rays of hate shooting out of your eyeballs? 1 girl, 2 brothers, it's all a little legends of the fall. -summer
and yet another revenge of the sith video game product shot! and another bravery song, honest mistake. i hear this song... uh, too much. the kids go to the bait shop in search of relief from the tensions of life; little do they know they are about top face the harsh reality of asian gangsters and gunfire. that place is So going to have metal detectors next season.
oh... drama. trey and bimbo are... snxxxxx.... gun.... snxxx.... cocaine.... snxxxx.
seth - we just came from my grandfather's funeral.
trampy blonde - well. he's probably pretty old.
"who's the bitch now, huh?" trampy blonde says. isn't that the catch phrase from "the new guy" starring dj qualls and jermaine dupri? but- yo, trampy newport girl done buss off a shot! or would y'all prefer "lick off a shot?" maybe "squeeze some reounds?" or "buck one?"
the trampy girl is jess. ryan's heard it all before from his brother. but did y'all know trey's really british? like mischa? and ryan lays down the "you gotta go" law. don't we all want to see ryan go off the stanford or berkeley and become a sensitive poet, rehashing james dean and writing furiously under the influence of coffee, a couple of skinny suburban girls working on their theater lines and talking about moving to new york? maybe he just needs to go to NYU. but then he'll become a criminal. or this criminal. or this criminal. or maybe trey should go to nyu with trashy. and while there he can adopt a british accent-- which the actor, Logan Marshall Green, actually has in real life. okay, NYU kids, respond away.
oh, no! rissa has a boo-boo! she was near gunfire! and summer is the good times, take care of people kid we all love. she's a care bear with care bear countdown powers! she's good mood bear! therapy bear? exposition of character emotion bear?
tate/ jimmy cooper wants to stay in newport? with julie coop? marisa comes home to find her parents... together! but isn't it creepy to take over caleb's house? is marisa happy or... conflicted? and the mystery other child is coming home?
the way things have been going i bet that's oliver. -seth
hey, how come ryan's so effing pale? ryan resolves to settle it with trey once and for all... trampy wants to go to vegas with trey? steal her stepdad's beamer? what a naughty naughty girl!
ryan - what are you gonna do, shoot me? is that how this ends?
trey - how this ends is up to you, says trey.
ryan walks away, seemingly afraid of the gun in trey's hand. trey puts down the piece and ryan tackles him low. excellent technique. ryan has a future in football. there is a beating, the table breaks- and marisa shoots him? in the back? don't worry, trey is alive. she hit the other side of the chest, away from the heart. man, the oc is hard. dudes get shot in the back by cosmogirl. whatever that song was, the one playing in the heartfelt moments, it has to go.
was that repetitive and annoying tune a ryan adams song?
and we have to get "what are you gonna do, shoot me?" out of the american phrase book.
Interim. 5.19.05
Yesterday I learned that picnics in parks with art history PhD's will inevitable turn into commentary about different sub-breeds of dogs, and marveling at babies. I suppose that's better than staring blankly at conversations about portaiture or pre-Columbian pottery. While interesting, it leaves me without much to say. As we all know, I like to talk.
Today, it's caffeine with Arroz's sister Kiri and her Sunny Disposition. And tonight? The OC's season finale. This viewer is hoping that it will be chock-full of Josh Schwartz' best writing, pop references, and one-liners to blog about.
Yesterday I learned that picnics in parks with art history PhD's will inevitable turn into commentary about different sub-breeds of dogs, and marveling at babies. I suppose that's better than staring blankly at conversations about portaiture or pre-Columbian pottery. While interesting, it leaves me without much to say. As we all know, I like to talk.
Today, it's caffeine with Arroz's sister Kiri and her Sunny Disposition. And tonight? The OC's season finale. This viewer is hoping that it will be chock-full of Josh Schwartz' best writing, pop references, and one-liners to blog about.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Limiter 5.17.05
Today—before I addressed the strange odor by showering—I was watching the Larry Elder show to get myself all incensed. He was lamer than usual but Dr. Phil gave some advice during a commercial break—kind of a One to Grow On, if you remember those.
The good not-quite-doctor tells us that parents should not talk about their money issues/ woes, for the children will then take on some of the emotional responsibility, some of the stress, and then worry about asking about the $10 they need for a class trip.
That’s crap advice. Shouldn’t children of a certain age—let’s say by 10 or so—have a sense of what their financial limits are? Instead of asking why they can’t get some toy? Shouldn’t they learn how to be more efficient? I didn’t need the Trapper Keeper with the Hulk on the cover when a sturdier folder with a metal binder would do; it helped to have a sense of where my dad’s money was going; and to better understand that I couldn’t have every GI Joe. Granted, there was the GI Joe theft incident… but I was a juvenile so you didn’t hear it from me.
The good not-quite-doctor did not specify ages, but the children displayed in the commercial were in the 10-15 range and on some no-curb Florida street. And by that age, kids should know a little bit about their parents’ limits, instead of becoming bitter that they can’t have so and so from MTV and this and that from the mall. We all have limits that define our personal responsibility. It’s better to understand that the parents can’t afford it versus the parents are mean hoarding miserly bastards.
Today—before I addressed the strange odor by showering—I was watching the Larry Elder show to get myself all incensed. He was lamer than usual but Dr. Phil gave some advice during a commercial break—kind of a One to Grow On, if you remember those.
The good not-quite-doctor tells us that parents should not talk about their money issues/ woes, for the children will then take on some of the emotional responsibility, some of the stress, and then worry about asking about the $10 they need for a class trip.
That’s crap advice. Shouldn’t children of a certain age—let’s say by 10 or so—have a sense of what their financial limits are? Instead of asking why they can’t get some toy? Shouldn’t they learn how to be more efficient? I didn’t need the Trapper Keeper with the Hulk on the cover when a sturdier folder with a metal binder would do; it helped to have a sense of where my dad’s money was going; and to better understand that I couldn’t have every GI Joe. Granted, there was the GI Joe theft incident… but I was a juvenile so you didn’t hear it from me.
The good not-quite-doctor did not specify ages, but the children displayed in the commercial were in the 10-15 range and on some no-curb Florida street. And by that age, kids should know a little bit about their parents’ limits, instead of becoming bitter that they can’t have so and so from MTV and this and that from the mall. We all have limits that define our personal responsibility. It’s better to understand that the parents can’t afford it versus the parents are mean hoarding miserly bastards.
Monday, May 16, 2005
I'd Gladly Pay You Tuesday 5.16.05
I'm rounding into shape, a little slowly but a little surely. But Gothamist's posts on hamburgers and hamburger blogs is making me hungry... and I still have to do some garden-style chopping, hacking, and pruning.
Beyond that, Eben/ Kandle's gathering was good times. I came late and my cookies went over well, but there were lots of people I wish I had talked more to. And an episode of Buffy with Niffer. That is all for now.
I'm rounding into shape, a little slowly but a little surely. But Gothamist's posts on hamburgers and hamburger blogs is making me hungry... and I still have to do some garden-style chopping, hacking, and pruning.
Beyond that, Eben/ Kandle's gathering was good times. I came late and my cookies went over well, but there were lots of people I wish I had talked more to. And an episode of Buffy with Niffer. That is all for now.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Comets With Big Ass Tails 5.14.05
Where You Been, Pico?
Avoiding this week's graduation activities. In fact, I think I owe the school an undergrad transcript or something. Been home, watching a bit of TV and sending out some resumes. Trying to get back into sync with the rest of the world, rejoin the human race. Trying to remember who the rest of these elusive friends of mine are. Avoiding showers and apparently, lotion. I can write my name on my skin. Thinking about the sports blog but not sure what my first post will be. Making new penpals and plotting trips I cannot afford.
An aside: good to hear from you, youthlarge , but Glavine remembered how to pitch yesterday against the St.L. Cardinals b-squad. And as for the OC, I fell asleep 15 minutes before the beginning… missed the whole thing. Thanks to neverecho for the recap. Even though you didn't tell me Theresa came back.
Pumpkin Park
The multi-week celebration of Eben and Kandle turning a combined 60-palooza ends tomorrow in Prospect Park like an epic, cross-cultural/ four-dimensional battle for the ultimate chalice, one that will bestow—...no. That is not the way to go in this post. I may be rusty but the hint at pomp is unnecessary here; it will be explained a little farther down—no peeking.
It’s supposed to rain today. I hope not. Not for the birthday kids’ sake; instead, because I do not want to waste the time I have spent plotting out pumpkin cookies. Either pumpkin oat or pumpkin chocolate chip or maybe even pumpkin raisin—I consulted neverecho and she thinks the third is “nuh-uh” and the first is “good” and the second warranted an “idea” email introducing the idea of cream cheese frosting. In the Am I must get the actual chips. If I thought they would work I would add white chocolate chips. But they will not…
The Sound of Suckage
VH1 showed their 50 most awesomely bad metal songs last night. Those who know me well know that this is the kind of show I am likely to get incensed about; only my opinions are correct, after all, and I hate watching smarmy kids who never listened to the music or who were barely old enough to be into it making the funnies about the bands. Don’t get me wrong; the reason I love many of the featured songs and have them on my IPod is because they’re pretty silly. But to have the channel that played Amy Grant on repeat when I was growing up now tell me that a “metal” song can only be about biting off the heads of bats and Satan is curious. No matter how the channel has changed their brand into something cool and retro.
“Metal” is in fact a misnomer in VH1's hater hands, spanning the bat-biting Ozzy and Black Sabbath to the Los Angeles post-punk glam/ hair bands such as Mötley Crüe to the Danzig to apparently Marilyn Manson and Limp Bizkit. Within this clump is a wide range of styles. The Kiss/ Black Sabbath/ Alice Cooper days were about shock value and arena rock. AC/DC and early Van Halen just rocked. The Crüe and Poison wanted to avoid herpes, find warm places to sleep, and get chicks to buy them whiskey and blow. And then there are the derivative bands, the rats on every musical ship. Considering the Insane Clown Posse and Fred Durst’s repeated musical mistakes adds a completely different fanbase/ culture/ musical style to the proceedings.
The bands on VH1’s list shouldn’t be judged on the same criteria. It’s easy to pick a crappy song that Britny Fox of Jackyl did. They couldn’t play their instruments. By the late 80’s the bands were mailing in their performances, had high pyrotechnics budgets from Atlantic or Geffen Records, got advice on their bad love ballads from Bob Rock, and got their hairspray and Ibanez guitars for free.
Quiet Riot’s song about partying was bad—as is almost every song that is written for the express purpose of “blowing out speakers” or staying “up all night.” It’s unoriginal, reminiscent of Lionel Richie telling us to dance on the ceiling, and that is the criteria to call a song lame. When the song is obviously boring, even by the standards of the time, like top pick “the Final Countdown” by Europe, that is too good criteria. Also: when a song is pompous, like the aforementioned Europe song. When a song is creepy like Winger’s “Seventeen.” When the singer has a dumb ass affectation like Mike Tramp of White Lion. When the singer reaches that unbelievable, nuts on a counter being smashed by mallets sound.
Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again was hilarious, and was obviously written to get girls in the arenas and panties off after the high school dance. You could look at who was way into the song and be like “target.”
My top two would have been the same, I admit, but the order switched: Europe’s retardculous pomp followed by Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.” I wish I had a copy of that song, but it always offended me. And I LIKED Warrant.
The song, first, and foremost, has lead guitars guest played. Like a guest star in a sitcom? And played by CC DeVille of Poison. Who could play his instrument but mostly cared about the solos because they got the chicks with teeth. The obvious merits of “without teeth” will not be brought up, but I know you were thinking it. Now, having a guest guitarist is fine but if you know the music, it’s not complex. What were Warrant’s 2 guitarists doing in the interim? Giggling about cherry triangles in women’s laps? Yelling at singer Jani Lane the immortal lines "I stirred the batter and she licked the beater?" The innuendos in the song were limp and I didn’t get half of them then. Cherry Pie model Bobbi Brown’s next claim to fame was 12 years later on Blind Date. Even for a party song, this song was coke-addled stupid, even topping Ratt for boring lyrics and Trixter for cheesy clichés.
I am going to make a metal mix for Liz. If you want one… let me know. Maybe I will make one when I can afford the peroxide blonde, playground teased hair wigs and makeup kits I’d like to send with the music.
Avoiding this week's graduation activities. In fact, I think I owe the school an undergrad transcript or something. Been home, watching a bit of TV and sending out some resumes. Trying to get back into sync with the rest of the world, rejoin the human race. Trying to remember who the rest of these elusive friends of mine are. Avoiding showers and apparently, lotion. I can write my name on my skin. Thinking about the sports blog but not sure what my first post will be. Making new penpals and plotting trips I cannot afford.
An aside: good to hear from you, youthlarge , but Glavine remembered how to pitch yesterday against the St.L. Cardinals b-squad. And as for the OC, I fell asleep 15 minutes before the beginning… missed the whole thing. Thanks to neverecho for the recap. Even though you didn't tell me Theresa came back.
The multi-week celebration of Eben and Kandle turning a combined 60-palooza ends tomorrow in Prospect Park like an epic, cross-cultural/ four-dimensional battle for the ultimate chalice, one that will bestow—...no. That is not the way to go in this post. I may be rusty but the hint at pomp is unnecessary here; it will be explained a little farther down—no peeking.
It’s supposed to rain today. I hope not. Not for the birthday kids’ sake; instead, because I do not want to waste the time I have spent plotting out pumpkin cookies. Either pumpkin oat or pumpkin chocolate chip or maybe even pumpkin raisin—I consulted neverecho and she thinks the third is “nuh-uh” and the first is “good” and the second warranted an “idea” email introducing the idea of cream cheese frosting. In the Am I must get the actual chips. If I thought they would work I would add white chocolate chips. But they will not…
VH1 showed their 50 most awesomely bad metal songs last night. Those who know me well know that this is the kind of show I am likely to get incensed about; only my opinions are correct, after all, and I hate watching smarmy kids who never listened to the music or who were barely old enough to be into it making the funnies about the bands. Don’t get me wrong; the reason I love many of the featured songs and have them on my IPod is because they’re pretty silly. But to have the channel that played Amy Grant on repeat when I was growing up now tell me that a “metal” song can only be about biting off the heads of bats and Satan is curious. No matter how the channel has changed their brand into something cool and retro.
“Metal” is in fact a misnomer in VH1's hater hands, spanning the bat-biting Ozzy and Black Sabbath to the Los Angeles post-punk glam/ hair bands such as Mötley Crüe to the Danzig to apparently Marilyn Manson and Limp Bizkit. Within this clump is a wide range of styles. The Kiss/ Black Sabbath/ Alice Cooper days were about shock value and arena rock. AC/DC and early Van Halen just rocked. The Crüe and Poison wanted to avoid herpes, find warm places to sleep, and get chicks to buy them whiskey and blow. And then there are the derivative bands, the rats on every musical ship. Considering the Insane Clown Posse and Fred Durst’s repeated musical mistakes adds a completely different fanbase/ culture/ musical style to the proceedings.
The bands on VH1’s list shouldn’t be judged on the same criteria. It’s easy to pick a crappy song that Britny Fox of Jackyl did. They couldn’t play their instruments. By the late 80’s the bands were mailing in their performances, had high pyrotechnics budgets from Atlantic or Geffen Records, got advice on their bad love ballads from Bob Rock, and got their hairspray and Ibanez guitars for free.
Quiet Riot’s song about partying was bad—as is almost every song that is written for the express purpose of “blowing out speakers” or staying “up all night.” It’s unoriginal, reminiscent of Lionel Richie telling us to dance on the ceiling, and that is the criteria to call a song lame. When the song is obviously boring, even by the standards of the time, like top pick “the Final Countdown” by Europe, that is too good criteria. Also: when a song is pompous, like the aforementioned Europe song. When a song is creepy like Winger’s “Seventeen.” When the singer has a dumb ass affectation like Mike Tramp of White Lion. When the singer reaches that unbelievable, nuts on a counter being smashed by mallets sound.
Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again was hilarious, and was obviously written to get girls in the arenas and panties off after the high school dance. You could look at who was way into the song and be like “target.”
My top two would have been the same, I admit, but the order switched: Europe’s retardculous pomp followed by Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.” I wish I had a copy of that song, but it always offended me. And I LIKED Warrant.
The song, first, and foremost, has lead guitars guest played. Like a guest star in a sitcom? And played by CC DeVille of Poison. Who could play his instrument but mostly cared about the solos because they got the chicks with teeth. The obvious merits of “without teeth” will not be brought up, but I know you were thinking it. Now, having a guest guitarist is fine but if you know the music, it’s not complex. What were Warrant’s 2 guitarists doing in the interim? Giggling about cherry triangles in women’s laps? Yelling at singer Jani Lane the immortal lines "I stirred the batter and she licked the beater?" The innuendos in the song were limp and I didn’t get half of them then. Cherry Pie model Bobbi Brown’s next claim to fame was 12 years later on Blind Date. Even for a party song, this song was coke-addled stupid, even topping Ratt for boring lyrics and Trixter for cheesy clichés.
I am going to make a metal mix for Liz. If you want one… let me know. Maybe I will make one when I can afford the peroxide blonde, playground teased hair wigs and makeup kits I’d like to send with the music.
Friday, May 06, 2005
it's oh bananas oh bananas oh bananas 05.05.05
summer is no ho.
and her spitting the mouthpiece out was kinda hot. the bob jones university reference- judgment day? oh, this show was written by an east coaster. effing liberals. pissing on the moral values of the anti-miscegenation u. if not for that little fact... but i like my doughnuts in the "assortment" variety.
but after this episode i am never leaving my wife/ girlfriend in the company of a hot guy, especially not one with stubble. lucky for me, i can't get a woman within spitting distance. that's the wrong reference.
ok, it's wrong of me to say but that was the best car accident scene i have seen in a while.
mostly, two hours of OC that didn't thrill; i am off to make presentation like the afghan whigs make party. well... tanner will get that one. if he reads the blog.
summer is no ho.
and her spitting the mouthpiece out was kinda hot. the bob jones university reference- judgment day? oh, this show was written by an east coaster. effing liberals. pissing on the moral values of the anti-miscegenation u. if not for that little fact... but i like my doughnuts in the "assortment" variety.
but after this episode i am never leaving my wife/ girlfriend in the company of a hot guy, especially not one with stubble. lucky for me, i can't get a woman within spitting distance. that's the wrong reference.
ok, it's wrong of me to say but that was the best car accident scene i have seen in a while.
mostly, two hours of OC that didn't thrill; i am off to make presentation like the afghan whigs make party. well... tanner will get that one. if he reads the blog.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
don't panic 4.30.05
hitchhiker's guide was very good. the don't panic was downplayed and some changes... but it was good. and as dorky as i wanted it to be. so they "make the blog," i'll let you know i shared twizzlers with jaime if you catch my meaning and rachel giggled to my left, i was in a jaime/ rachel sandwich. the rachel sister is a pistol even though she can't see over counters and nicky marie will soon be free of her fundraising shackles. they may take you life, but they'll never take--
kandle's party was very good too, even including the headbutts and getting home @ 6 am. niffer came through and we danced with the girls of bad touch to the late 80's house/ r&b. there was vodka, i grew paper tits, the amandas played ratt and journey in the other room, we all realized that we were old as we waxed nostalgic about the best rock bands, caroline and i sat in the corner and yapped about those same bands with rachelle. later i will have fully beaten my kidney into a drunken pulp with most of the same kids at zippy's crucial bbq. and sanded and painted gully's new number 1 spot.
*if i had music i would leave this post cueing up 50 cent's "this is 50."
postscript:
samuelito's drunken master/ night in the clink mix:
1. robert johnson # drunken hearted man
2. mighty mighty bosstones # i'll drink to that
3. project pat # crash da club
4. minus the bear # monkey!! knife!! fight!!
5. the alkaholiks # only when i'm drunk
6. bounty killa # warlord nuh business
7. (irish drinking song?) # fuck you i'm drunk
8. mystikal # ready to rumble
9. rolling stones # street fighting man
10. dj shadow + dan the automator # fists of curry
11. gangstarr # suckas need bodyguards
12. d12 # fight music
13. fugazi # waiting room
14. shyne w/ kurupt + nate dogg # behind the walls
15. plaid # last remembered thing
16. pinback # concrete seconds
17. burning airlines # sweet deals on surgery
18. prince paul # handle your time
19. da lench mob # lost in da system
20. tool # prison sex
21. james carter + the prisoners # po' lazarus
hitchhiker's guide was very good. the don't panic was downplayed and some changes... but it was good. and as dorky as i wanted it to be. so they "make the blog," i'll let you know i shared twizzlers with jaime if you catch my meaning and rachel giggled to my left, i was in a jaime/ rachel sandwich. the rachel sister is a pistol even though she can't see over counters and nicky marie will soon be free of her fundraising shackles. they may take you life, but they'll never take--
kandle's party was very good too, even including the headbutts and getting home @ 6 am. niffer came through and we danced with the girls of bad touch to the late 80's house/ r&b. there was vodka, i grew paper tits, the amandas played ratt and journey in the other room, we all realized that we were old as we waxed nostalgic about the best rock bands, caroline and i sat in the corner and yapped about those same bands with rachelle. later i will have fully beaten my kidney into a drunken pulp with most of the same kids at zippy's crucial bbq. and sanded and painted gully's new number 1 spot.
*if i had music i would leave this post cueing up 50 cent's "this is 50."
postscript:
samuelito's drunken master/ night in the clink mix:
1. robert johnson # drunken hearted man
2. mighty mighty bosstones # i'll drink to that
3. project pat # crash da club
4. minus the bear # monkey!! knife!! fight!!
5. the alkaholiks # only when i'm drunk
6. bounty killa # warlord nuh business
7. (irish drinking song?) # fuck you i'm drunk
8. mystikal # ready to rumble
9. rolling stones # street fighting man
10. dj shadow + dan the automator # fists of curry
11. gangstarr # suckas need bodyguards
12. d12 # fight music
13. fugazi # waiting room
14. shyne w/ kurupt + nate dogg # behind the walls
15. plaid # last remembered thing
16. pinback # concrete seconds
17. burning airlines # sweet deals on surgery
18. prince paul # handle your time
19. da lench mob # lost in da system
20. tool # prison sex
21. james carter + the prisoners # po' lazarus
Monday, April 25, 2005
the unlinked post 4.25.05
i will get back to blogging again soon; though i don't know why i should. here is an inaptly-named trilogy of reasons not to blog:
1. everything i want to say is too personal. like how i hate people who cannot use proper grammar/ grammar rules at all. how i would like to go on and on about how it's very boring to read people's posts on what they ate for dinner. how i would like to give advice such as "west indian/ caribbean men, stop hitting on homely, funny-looking white women. yes, they will be flattered and yes, they may take you home to help them with their dancehall or hip hop riddims; but then they go and tell their friends and we all get objectified and pigeonholed." i am a culprit too. friends, help me stop. i'm not the hottest fella but really... help me stop.
2. i have a burr up my ass. so when i talk about how stupid my little brother is, i don't want to hear the advancement of that concept, or memories of other times when my brother is stupid. i will insult him myself. he's family, after all. i am protective. there is more but it would personally attack some readers, and since i have 5, i don't want to cut out 40% of my readership. suffice to say, i am sensitive and have a burr up my ass. constructive commentary and criticism is good, but a person should know when they have crossed constructive and are being a jackass. silver.
3. i ain't got no job.
4. it's time to start working on fiction, on the NEW AND IMPROVED short story club, and on the new sports blog, which will hopefully enlist the skills of m-jr and perhaps other people, and will have shorts posts such as this:
i am so happy for adrian macpherson - the seminole, the gambler, the arena football qb, and now the 5th round pick of the n'awlins saints. aaron brooks' 14-40 passing days are bad quarterbacking. the team doesn't win, the offensive system is "chuck it long and go get it;" one of these days, the new orleans football franchise should try having a couple of winning seasons in a row before they become an NFL europe outpost, or before the fans sober up and start throwing spiked beads at the players.
5. i was up at almost 1 am this morning; and not just because i dutch oven'd myself. hours before an AM meeting that should be disastrously funny, i was thinking about how i should get a date book. electronic ones are uninspiring; iCal and Palm's calendar's annoy me; a wall calendar is too large to take with me; and pocket planners tend to have lines when i want open space. maybe a long flat week-long top-flipping book. then i realized it's true what some friends have said-- i am finicky.
hitchhiker's guide comes out this weekend. i'll be going with m-jr, the wondertwin, the lovely jaime, rachel, and el-d the curly.
p.s. last week i was in the park with samuelito and lana-p and we saw this couple lovingly plucking each other's eyebrows. seriously. thanks for the pic, lana.
p.p.s. what's the bug in your saddle?
i will get back to blogging again soon; though i don't know why i should. here is an inaptly-named trilogy of reasons not to blog:
1. everything i want to say is too personal. like how i hate people who cannot use proper grammar/ grammar rules at all. how i would like to go on and on about how it's very boring to read people's posts on what they ate for dinner. how i would like to give advice such as "west indian/ caribbean men, stop hitting on homely, funny-looking white women. yes, they will be flattered and yes, they may take you home to help them with their dancehall or hip hop riddims; but then they go and tell their friends and we all get objectified and pigeonholed." i am a culprit too. friends, help me stop. i'm not the hottest fella but really... help me stop.
2. i have a burr up my ass. so when i talk about how stupid my little brother is, i don't want to hear the advancement of that concept, or memories of other times when my brother is stupid. i will insult him myself. he's family, after all. i am protective. there is more but it would personally attack some readers, and since i have 5, i don't want to cut out 40% of my readership. suffice to say, i am sensitive and have a burr up my ass. constructive commentary and criticism is good, but a person should know when they have crossed constructive and are being a jackass. silver.
3. i ain't got no job.
4. it's time to start working on fiction, on the NEW AND IMPROVED short story club, and on the new sports blog, which will hopefully enlist the skills of m-jr and perhaps other people, and will have shorts posts such as this:
i am so happy for adrian macpherson - the seminole, the gambler, the arena football qb, and now the 5th round pick of the n'awlins saints. aaron brooks' 14-40 passing days are bad quarterbacking. the team doesn't win, the offensive system is "chuck it long and go get it;" one of these days, the new orleans football franchise should try having a couple of winning seasons in a row before they become an NFL europe outpost, or before the fans sober up and start throwing spiked beads at the players.
5. i was up at almost 1 am this morning; and not just because i dutch oven'd myself. hours before an AM meeting that should be disastrously funny, i was thinking about how i should get a date book. electronic ones are uninspiring; iCal and Palm's calendar's annoy me; a wall calendar is too large to take with me; and pocket planners tend to have lines when i want open space. maybe a long flat week-long top-flipping book. then i realized it's true what some friends have said-- i am finicky.
hitchhiker's guide comes out this weekend. i'll be going with m-jr, the wondertwin, the lovely jaime, rachel, and el-d the curly.
p.s. last week i was in the park with samuelito and lana-p and we saw this couple lovingly plucking each other's eyebrows. seriously. thanks for the pic, lana.
p.p.s. what's the bug in your saddle?
Thursday, April 21, 2005
back to watch the OC 4.21.05
what's with the goofy mid-sentence cuts in this episode? was that FOX or was that a quirky directing move? and can some of these plotlines slow down enough for funny quips and snappy patter? we have returned to fistfights and the calling of other men "bitch" and i for one am overjoyed. i dig the little wisps of air brushing marisa's locks before the kiss.
and trey's just out of prison so he's allowed one obvious mistake. where were the little drug vixens when i was in high school? at stuyvesant? or at spence?
death cab was so much better at the black cat. they didn't start with lightness. they started with new year and moved into movie script ending and then company calls. then ended with transatlantacism. am i right, gully? i do hope this appearance on the OC makes them villa-in-france money; this and their major label debut.
>>you don't have to pay me to murder your husband<<
julie looks good in the american beauty red petal repose. "it looks like one of your movies" is a hot ass line, though. miss cooper's friend is...oops. that's a PI taking her p-i-c. and while caleb has a charming voice, this is the creepiest marriage i have seen since i last got divorced. man, was that something. something cold.
>>what's from the earth is of the greatest worth<<
summer is the hotness. zach is so up to something. it's all the look-backs. and body sprays? a comic book body spray? what geek would buy that? would it smell like fresh comic book? like norse sweat? like the air after cyclops' eyebeams? at least this is an interesting plotline. and here is another site about cyclops, 'cause he's my favorite, no matter how lame people think he was in the movie.
i know nothing about wine. luckily for me, silver is a classy classy guy. now, about everyone's favorite raw-foods dieter, kelly rowan-- i mean, kiki-- snnxxxx, snxxxx, sorry, fell asleep. started drooling.
p.s. while orlando bloom is a good looking fellow, i don't even think he could kick MY ass.
what's with the goofy mid-sentence cuts in this episode? was that FOX or was that a quirky directing move? and can some of these plotlines slow down enough for funny quips and snappy patter? we have returned to fistfights and the calling of other men "bitch" and i for one am overjoyed. i dig the little wisps of air brushing marisa's locks before the kiss.
and trey's just out of prison so he's allowed one obvious mistake. where were the little drug vixens when i was in high school? at stuyvesant? or at spence?
death cab was so much better at the black cat. they didn't start with lightness. they started with new year and moved into movie script ending and then company calls. then ended with transatlantacism. am i right, gully? i do hope this appearance on the OC makes them villa-in-france money; this and their major label debut.
>>you don't have to pay me to murder your husband<<
julie looks good in the american beauty red petal repose. "it looks like one of your movies" is a hot ass line, though. miss cooper's friend is...oops. that's a PI taking her p-i-c. and while caleb has a charming voice, this is the creepiest marriage i have seen since i last got divorced. man, was that something. something cold.
>>what's from the earth is of the greatest worth<<
summer is the hotness. zach is so up to something. it's all the look-backs. and body sprays? a comic book body spray? what geek would buy that? would it smell like fresh comic book? like norse sweat? like the air after cyclops' eyebeams? at least this is an interesting plotline. and here is another site about cyclops, 'cause he's my favorite, no matter how lame people think he was in the movie.
i know nothing about wine. luckily for me, silver is a classy classy guy. now, about everyone's favorite raw-foods dieter, kelly rowan-- i mean, kiki-- snnxxxx, snxxxx, sorry, fell asleep. started drooling.
p.s. while orlando bloom is a good looking fellow, i don't even think he could kick MY ass.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
well, convict, time to open your present 4.14.05
>>an OC recap<<
i want to live in california. all i have to do is have a hot house with a pool and a winding walk down and people will just come to my house. yes this is the house. come inside the rager, dude!!! but who comes to a party with a four-foot bong in hand? and who brought the concert-style sound system? at least trey can act like a bouncer. and get a little tail-- hey, he's out of prison, he can call it a little tail. or okay, i can. and the teddy bear... that was a bit much.
where was trey in the threesome? and i really thought this would be the ep where trey and marissa get it on.
and... no, wait. addendum. i want to live in california and throw drug free parties.
now, how much coffee do these kids drink? it's like crack rock to them. marisa, summer, seth, zack, are never in the student lounge without coffee. aren't there coffee lines? don't people go coffee crazy? does somebody spill on the video games?
marguerite moreau is hot. that's why she's on television, i suppose. but what happened to the show life as we know it?
julie cooper threw a shirt at a ratt concert. my favorite bad band. i wonder if i look like that when i get drunk and the hard rock comes on? and daughters? julie cooper only has one daughter. and a creepy afterthought in boarding school.
>>an OC recap<<
i want to live in california. all i have to do is have a hot house with a pool and a winding walk down and people will just come to my house. yes this is the house. come inside the rager, dude!!! but who comes to a party with a four-foot bong in hand? and who brought the concert-style sound system? at least trey can act like a bouncer. and get a little tail-- hey, he's out of prison, he can call it a little tail. or okay, i can. and the teddy bear... that was a bit much.
where was trey in the threesome? and i really thought this would be the ep where trey and marissa get it on.
and... no, wait. addendum. i want to live in california and throw drug free parties.
now, how much coffee do these kids drink? it's like crack rock to them. marisa, summer, seth, zack, are never in the student lounge without coffee. aren't there coffee lines? don't people go coffee crazy? does somebody spill on the video games?
marguerite moreau is hot. that's why she's on television, i suppose. but what happened to the show life as we know it?
julie cooper threw a shirt at a ratt concert. my favorite bad band. i wonder if i look like that when i get drunk and the hard rock comes on? and daughters? julie cooper only has one daughter. and a creepy afterthought in boarding school.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Mondays are for studying 4.11.05
This weekend we celebrated Ray-Ray’s birthday. She has soft lips. Heh. Sister Sorky is a funny kid. And a blast from the past came through named Ellie, who lived in my old dorm room 107 back in the day. I couldn’t remember why I knew her and I think that was it. I walked into my old dorm as a junior to see what set of ass clowns had taken my old tripe and they weren’t ass clowns at all. Good kids.
In two days I will be free to write more interesting prose and posts. For now, here is a mix. Also, I think I will start a sports-only blog. I bet you would all be really into it.
a mix made because all of my mixes are for women. this one is made with silver in mind but he will never get it because unlike my hs classmate i do not believe in the social man date as discussed in the nytimes. no matter how many times it's just me and silver out, or having dinner, or cuddling with basketball. you didn't read that.
1. mirah, million miles
2. the go! team, huddle formation
3. jhae f. bumba, lindsay lohan freestyle (big ass titties)
4. thingy, mayday
5. ac newman, most of us prizefighters
6. d'angelo, alright
7. the delays, wanderlust
8. sufjan stevens, for the widows in paradise, for the fatherless in ypsilanti
9. death from above 1979, romantic rights
10. fall out boy, where is your boy tonight?
11. pinback, concrete seconds
12. iron and wine, grey stables
13. little brother, the yo-yo
14. lyrics born, callin' out
15. tahiti 80, heartbeat
16. mclusky, friends stoning friends
17. the legends, breaking time, breaking lines
18. the earlies, bring it back again
19. thingy, my room has a TV
20. nappy roots, slums
21. stars, the big fight
This weekend we celebrated Ray-Ray’s birthday. She has soft lips. Heh. Sister Sorky is a funny kid. And a blast from the past came through named Ellie, who lived in my old dorm room 107 back in the day. I couldn’t remember why I knew her and I think that was it. I walked into my old dorm as a junior to see what set of ass clowns had taken my old tripe and they weren’t ass clowns at all. Good kids.
In two days I will be free to write more interesting prose and posts. For now, here is a mix. Also, I think I will start a sports-only blog. I bet you would all be really into it.
a mix made because all of my mixes are for women. this one is made with silver in mind but he will never get it because unlike my hs classmate i do not believe in the social man date as discussed in the nytimes. no matter how many times it's just me and silver out, or having dinner, or cuddling with basketball. you didn't read that.
1. mirah, million miles
2. the go! team, huddle formation
3. jhae f. bumba, lindsay lohan freestyle (big ass titties)
4. thingy, mayday
5. ac newman, most of us prizefighters
6. d'angelo, alright
7. the delays, wanderlust
8. sufjan stevens, for the widows in paradise, for the fatherless in ypsilanti
9. death from above 1979, romantic rights
10. fall out boy, where is your boy tonight?
11. pinback, concrete seconds
12. iron and wine, grey stables
13. little brother, the yo-yo
14. lyrics born, callin' out
15. tahiti 80, heartbeat
16. mclusky, friends stoning friends
17. the legends, breaking time, breaking lines
18. the earlies, bring it back again
19. thingy, my room has a TV
20. nappy roots, slums
21. stars, the big fight
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
dine in brooklyn. 4.6.05
i hate dinner, as you all know. but dine in brooklyn? sounds like the move. next week, april 11-20th. it's on like kublai khan. check the link for restaurants in your hood.
(thanks to gothamist)
i hate dinner, as you all know. but dine in brooklyn? sounds like the move. next week, april 11-20th. it's on like kublai khan. check the link for restaurants in your hood.
(thanks to gothamist)
Monday, April 04, 2005
the day of the year where there is hope in cincinnati and pittsburgh 4.4.05
and not just because it's nathan's birthday.
my pregame comment is for new mets manager willie randolph. willie. never ever use the word "battled." it was art howe's catch phrase last year and watching the mets battle was like watching a quadriplegic in quicksand reaching for the rope. you can do your subway commercials with joe torre, but don't use the b-word.
5 strikeouts from this year's fantasy hero, jeremy bonderman. and it's only the second inning! 11 strikeouts from martinez and only one ugly home run! a homer and double from beltran. mmm, beltran. 2 double plays from david wright. hm, david wright. you still my boy, blue.
UPDATE: sweet jeebus, man. thank you, closer braden looper, for allowing a hit and then back to back home runs, giving the reds the win. it's because you're a christian conservative, right? and you don't want new york to win? that was super, looper. at least you battled. arrrrrgh.
it's baseball day.
also, the anniversary of the assassination of the reverend dr. martin luther king.
and to switch gears, more cheesecake! emmanuelle chriqui is distilled hotness, pictures show her 'nuff respeck.
and not just because it's nathan's birthday.
my pregame comment is for new mets manager willie randolph. willie. never ever use the word "battled." it was art howe's catch phrase last year and watching the mets battle was like watching a quadriplegic in quicksand reaching for the rope. you can do your subway commercials with joe torre, but don't use the b-word.
5 strikeouts from this year's fantasy hero, jeremy bonderman. and it's only the second inning! 11 strikeouts from martinez and only one ugly home run! a homer and double from beltran. mmm, beltran. 2 double plays from david wright. hm, david wright. you still my boy, blue.
UPDATE: sweet jeebus, man. thank you, closer braden looper, for allowing a hit and then back to back home runs, giving the reds the win. it's because you're a christian conservative, right? and you don't want new york to win? that was super, looper. at least you battled. arrrrrgh.
it's baseball day.
also, the anniversary of the assassination of the reverend dr. martin luther king.
and to switch gears, more cheesecake! emmanuelle chriqui is distilled hotness, pictures show her 'nuff respeck.
the new single is duck + cover 4.4.05
with b-side: swing + miss
aw, damn, i missed joel.
ACE
my wu-tang style is avoidance. i can define a problem in simple words, come up with solutions, and find ways not to complete the tasks. though not such a big fan of people, i know the best way to avoid the mundane is to immerse in conversation, slipping from group to group to place to place, deft in ducking and shirking--
for example, this weekend. i missed out on classmate ana's downtown party and studied a little. that is the rare case of unavoidance, bucking the trend... for about 40 minutes.
the next morning when i should have been searching for work i was packaging my old mp3 player for sale, telling lana-p about the violence of sin city, and still made myself late. the rice-a-homie was angry to have missed the previews. i'd seen them already, it seems, and they were not that interesting. in fact, they were long, especially the movie about the dogtown skateboarders. sin city was bomb ass.
i dipped uptown, stopped by the post office that saturday afternoon, with the wind bowing my umbrella out and bending a line of the frame 70 degrees. midtown was filled with siren sounds, and people leaving ringling brothers circus. they left slowly and they leapt in my way.
then over to the east side for 20 minutes of basketball with mjunior and nicky brooklyn and their friend kurt/ martha/ [i forget] in a dark bar, waitress hovering over us like she had OCD.
7.15: i faced the height of avoidance. a few days previously i promised to attend an engagement dinner/ celebration for a high school mate named jen. i should have been home working. or going to events held by starla or schnapp or classmate nenee or simply watching basketball. and i thought about not going, getting back to what's important for me, versus what might annoy others--
all of that warbling is to say i had a great time. and i will hire zoco as my personal cook if that whole pharma marketing thing doesn't work out.
though she is already married to her army man, the engaged jen has not had the ceremony. so our mutual friend zoco decided to toss a surprise dinner/ reunion. myself, elle-marie, two mothers, and jen r who has blossomed into a very hot swan. not that she was a duckling but she looks all adult. still makes bad star trek jokes, though, still sweet and goofy.
but the avoidance--
DEUCE
i met up with mjunior downtown, and sat in odessa with him/ countess ruby/ and nicky brooklyn. they were in a strange mood. but i remembered why i like them. the sharp towel whip-snap of the countess, the hard-to-read laughter of nicky b.
of course i ended up in queens, playing mvp baseball. because i am addicted. stayed to watch the baseball game. yes, that was sunday night and i arrived saturday. as long as no one smells me, i'm straight.
one issue to bring up-- mjunior and the wondertwin love a place on queens blvd called eats. solid food, little cafe/ restaurant that has a mix of families and made-up queens women, gold's gym enthusiasts, and young folks who have discovered the secret sunnyside of queens. solid little place. except for the coffee.
i am not always the most perceptive person. so it took until the second or third cup of coffee at eats to realize that i was drinking perhaps the worst coffee i have ever had. a little burnt, and just... not good. not a single taste, but lightly bitter. milk didn't help and sugar made it taste worse. now i am aching a little, the feeling i remember from drinking starbucks' coffee, but then i wanted to drink it all, take my refills, and keep talking about the wondertwin's brilliant television idea. which will involve your favorite ex-television and movie stars. some of them even getting shot.
not for real, you sick bastards.
quit volunteering to pull the trigger.
what?
you can't do that, that's illegal--
just read on--
TREY
there is a dark wood-paneled bar on the upper east side, where even new york's rich and famous, cultural and athletic elite, can find a place to stay under the radar, and get their drink on. some afternoons, after isiah thomas stops taking shots of cognac, stumbles off the chair, and starts calling rival basketball General Managers with ridiculous trades, george steinbrenner walks in.
and the a rotund bald man shuffles in, shades drawn in case the ny post reporters or the guy who beat his ass in the upper east side diner should recognize him. some money exchanges hands for a job well-- or poorly done-- by a man named wells.
think about it. wells got slapped around last night like he was auditioning for pimps up, ho's down. the balk? way to gift wrap one, pal. and why else would he hit giambi twice? who would want to hit giambi but the yankees, the team angry and trying to find a way to cut giambi, for the steroids as he was suspected to have done.
just a thought. the boys building mate sara was very sweet too.
p.s. next week, ray-ray will be in town to do up her birthday in the style that only syracuse and high-end hookers know well.
with b-side: swing + miss
aw, damn, i missed joel.
my wu-tang style is avoidance. i can define a problem in simple words, come up with solutions, and find ways not to complete the tasks. though not such a big fan of people, i know the best way to avoid the mundane is to immerse in conversation, slipping from group to group to place to place, deft in ducking and shirking--
for example, this weekend. i missed out on classmate ana's downtown party and studied a little. that is the rare case of unavoidance, bucking the trend... for about 40 minutes.
the next morning when i should have been searching for work i was packaging my old mp3 player for sale, telling lana-p about the violence of sin city, and still made myself late. the rice-a-homie was angry to have missed the previews. i'd seen them already, it seems, and they were not that interesting. in fact, they were long, especially the movie about the dogtown skateboarders. sin city was bomb ass.
i dipped uptown, stopped by the post office that saturday afternoon, with the wind bowing my umbrella out and bending a line of the frame 70 degrees. midtown was filled with siren sounds, and people leaving ringling brothers circus. they left slowly and they leapt in my way.
then over to the east side for 20 minutes of basketball with mjunior and nicky brooklyn and their friend kurt/ martha/ [i forget] in a dark bar, waitress hovering over us like she had OCD.
7.15: i faced the height of avoidance. a few days previously i promised to attend an engagement dinner/ celebration for a high school mate named jen. i should have been home working. or going to events held by starla or schnapp or classmate nenee or simply watching basketball. and i thought about not going, getting back to what's important for me, versus what might annoy others--
all of that warbling is to say i had a great time. and i will hire zoco as my personal cook if that whole pharma marketing thing doesn't work out.
though she is already married to her army man, the engaged jen has not had the ceremony. so our mutual friend zoco decided to toss a surprise dinner/ reunion. myself, elle-marie, two mothers, and jen r who has blossomed into a very hot swan. not that she was a duckling but she looks all adult. still makes bad star trek jokes, though, still sweet and goofy.
but the avoidance--
i met up with mjunior downtown, and sat in odessa with him/ countess ruby/ and nicky brooklyn. they were in a strange mood. but i remembered why i like them. the sharp towel whip-snap of the countess, the hard-to-read laughter of nicky b.
of course i ended up in queens, playing mvp baseball. because i am addicted. stayed to watch the baseball game. yes, that was sunday night and i arrived saturday. as long as no one smells me, i'm straight.
one issue to bring up-- mjunior and the wondertwin love a place on queens blvd called eats. solid food, little cafe/ restaurant that has a mix of families and made-up queens women, gold's gym enthusiasts, and young folks who have discovered the secret sunnyside of queens. solid little place. except for the coffee.
i am not always the most perceptive person. so it took until the second or third cup of coffee at eats to realize that i was drinking perhaps the worst coffee i have ever had. a little burnt, and just... not good. not a single taste, but lightly bitter. milk didn't help and sugar made it taste worse. now i am aching a little, the feeling i remember from drinking starbucks' coffee, but then i wanted to drink it all, take my refills, and keep talking about the wondertwin's brilliant television idea. which will involve your favorite ex-television and movie stars. some of them even getting shot.
not for real, you sick bastards.
quit volunteering to pull the trigger.
what?
you can't do that, that's illegal--
just read on--
there is a dark wood-paneled bar on the upper east side, where even new york's rich and famous, cultural and athletic elite, can find a place to stay under the radar, and get their drink on. some afternoons, after isiah thomas stops taking shots of cognac, stumbles off the chair, and starts calling rival basketball General Managers with ridiculous trades, george steinbrenner walks in.
and the a rotund bald man shuffles in, shades drawn in case the ny post reporters or the guy who beat his ass in the upper east side diner should recognize him. some money exchanges hands for a job well-- or poorly done-- by a man named wells.
think about it. wells got slapped around last night like he was auditioning for pimps up, ho's down. the balk? way to gift wrap one, pal. and why else would he hit giambi twice? who would want to hit giambi but the yankees, the team angry and trying to find a way to cut giambi, for the steroids as he was suspected to have done.
just a thought. the boys building mate sara was very sweet too.
p.s. next week, ray-ray will be in town to do up her birthday in the style that only syracuse and high-end hookers know well.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Friday, April 01, 2005
friday 4.1.05
i recognize those bears and that brick wall. that walk by the tennis courts-- watching last night's college basketball 3-point shooting + slam-dunk contest, i quickly recognized the WUniversity! WU in the house! since the final four is held in st louis-- a city without a pro basketball team and a college basketball team that is hit and miss at best at SLU, and no great facilities to speak of-- well, it was good to see the old fieldhouse. i don't think i saw any of my classmates there, ever, though. where is your school spirit?!
here is an interesting article tying the final four to the resurgence of st louis. yes, we have heard that one before from the lou. rings in a little bit like the claims that the olympics will jumpstart the NYC economy. kudos to columnist burwell for mentioning how the st louis streets were used to film escape from new york. a couple of nights in brick alleyways converted to dance club parking lots and you'll think you were in the movie too.
back to last night's exhibition- steve lavin taught me well during the 3-point contest-- fingertips in the seams; low center of gravity; drop the ass low; widen the feet/ base; flick with the middle three fingers. i also learned marshall faulk is coming off the bench, and that the dunk contest can be won by a lithuanian who went to eastern utah and then to the university of tennessee - chattanooga, the school with the dumbest mascot.
****
sin city is out! here is a negative review, and here is a positive review. battery park city at 3 pm, be there. arroz the rice-a-homie will be. i might make it too. buy tickets!
****
marshall faulk is coming off the bench?
****
i miss the mets already. opening day is monday and i am going to have to find a bar.
****
this has to be an april fool's joke:
SOUTH ORANGE, N.J. -- Seton Hall guard J.R. Morris has declared for the NBA draft, the school announced Wednesday.
Morris, a junior shooting guard, averaged eight points and 3.5 rebounds in 79 career games with the Pirates. He was averaging 10.1 points and 5.8 rebounds through 21 games in the 2004-05 season before coach Louis Orr suspended him for academic reasons.
"This is something I have been preparing for my whole life," Morris said. "I sat down with coach Orr and told him that I felt I was ready to take my game to the next level. I feel I am ready to take this step."
good luck, son.
i recognize those bears and that brick wall. that walk by the tennis courts-- watching last night's college basketball 3-point shooting + slam-dunk contest, i quickly recognized the WUniversity! WU in the house! since the final four is held in st louis-- a city without a pro basketball team and a college basketball team that is hit and miss at best at SLU, and no great facilities to speak of-- well, it was good to see the old fieldhouse. i don't think i saw any of my classmates there, ever, though. where is your school spirit?!
here is an interesting article tying the final four to the resurgence of st louis. yes, we have heard that one before from the lou. rings in a little bit like the claims that the olympics will jumpstart the NYC economy. kudos to columnist burwell for mentioning how the st louis streets were used to film escape from new york. a couple of nights in brick alleyways converted to dance club parking lots and you'll think you were in the movie too.
back to last night's exhibition- steve lavin taught me well during the 3-point contest-- fingertips in the seams; low center of gravity; drop the ass low; widen the feet/ base; flick with the middle three fingers. i also learned marshall faulk is coming off the bench, and that the dunk contest can be won by a lithuanian who went to eastern utah and then to the university of tennessee - chattanooga, the school with the dumbest mascot.
sin city is out! here is a negative review, and here is a positive review. battery park city at 3 pm, be there. arroz the rice-a-homie will be. i might make it too. buy tickets!
marshall faulk is coming off the bench?
i miss the mets already. opening day is monday and i am going to have to find a bar.
this has to be an april fool's joke:
SOUTH ORANGE, N.J. -- Seton Hall guard J.R. Morris has declared for the NBA draft, the school announced Wednesday.
Morris, a junior shooting guard, averaged eight points and 3.5 rebounds in 79 career games with the Pirates. He was averaging 10.1 points and 5.8 rebounds through 21 games in the 2004-05 season before coach Louis Orr suspended him for academic reasons.
"This is something I have been preparing for my whole life," Morris said. "I sat down with coach Orr and told him that I felt I was ready to take my game to the next level. I feel I am ready to take this step."
good luck, son.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
thursday 3.31.05
joel is in town.
the mcdonald's all american game was last night. duke has some players coming in. the theme of the night was white guys dunking. they didn't read the white men can't jump memo... that josh mcroberts is a player. rebounds, has good baby hops, can throw a reverse dunk, will be a duke freshman... and his mother is a MILF.
eben forwarded me an article from ESPN, what if no player went pro early. besides the whole "denying a person the ability to earn a livelihood" argument which was the original rationale, there are reasons for players to go pro early that benefit both the players, the NBA, and the college game. if, of course, they really are going to be picked high in the draft, preferably in the lottery.
- if and when they go back to school, they won't be wasting their time sleeping in and getting tutors to do their work.
- the coaching is probably more developmental in college; but players are undervalued when they come out, costing them a whole lot of money while said players are wiping double cheeseburger grease off their lips, getting sycophants to bring them women and homework, and playing low-level teammate competition who ask for autographs after getting dunked on.
- the college game, especially the march tournament, is better for not having lebron and carmelo, et cetera-- we would expect the same teams to win. and those teams would win more easily-- the way north carolina has been dominant all year. who did they lose to? santa clara with their point guard out, duke who just out-coached them. if no one went pro early, UNC would likely find themselves with even more top-line players; and would likely have a team so dominant they would challenge UCLA's string of 88 straight wins. college basketball is tougher and more unpredictable.
****
a take on bill james' words of wisdom from soxaholix.
****
also, take a quiz. which yankee are you?
i'm mariano rivera. so... i'm old?
joel is in town.
the mcdonald's all american game was last night. duke has some players coming in. the theme of the night was white guys dunking. they didn't read the white men can't jump memo... that josh mcroberts is a player. rebounds, has good baby hops, can throw a reverse dunk, will be a duke freshman... and his mother is a MILF.
eben forwarded me an article from ESPN, what if no player went pro early. besides the whole "denying a person the ability to earn a livelihood" argument which was the original rationale, there are reasons for players to go pro early that benefit both the players, the NBA, and the college game. if, of course, they really are going to be picked high in the draft, preferably in the lottery.
- if and when they go back to school, they won't be wasting their time sleeping in and getting tutors to do their work.
- the coaching is probably more developmental in college; but players are undervalued when they come out, costing them a whole lot of money while said players are wiping double cheeseburger grease off their lips, getting sycophants to bring them women and homework, and playing low-level teammate competition who ask for autographs after getting dunked on.
- the college game, especially the march tournament, is better for not having lebron and carmelo, et cetera-- we would expect the same teams to win. and those teams would win more easily-- the way north carolina has been dominant all year. who did they lose to? santa clara with their point guard out, duke who just out-coached them. if no one went pro early, UNC would likely find themselves with even more top-line players; and would likely have a team so dominant they would challenge UCLA's string of 88 straight wins. college basketball is tougher and more unpredictable.
a take on bill james' words of wisdom from soxaholix.
also, take a quiz. which yankee are you?
i'm mariano rivera. so... i'm old?
You scored as Mariano Rivera. You are MARIANO RIVERA! You're the one that people look to end things, save the day, etc. You're also probably the best at what you do... but in small doses of course. You're only human and can only do so much, but regardless you're awesome and OVERALL can perform well under pressure.
Which NY Yankee are you? created with QuizFarm. |
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
for your reading pleasure 3.30.05
mcsweeney's baseball preview for american and national leagues.
and from the new yorker, set lists about exes.
mcsweeney's baseball preview for american and national leagues.
and from the new yorker, set lists about exes.
Monday, March 28, 2005
revisionist 3.28.05
recovered from a weekend spent with mia and not much sleep. also shooting thing in grand theft auto: vice city. thanks, rice-a-homie! now, back to work.
perhaps it was me... but the michigan state/ kentucky game was some bad basketball. not a thrilling, steal-at-the end classic, but a dumpy, "should we, like, play defense?" debacle.
when you are reading today's nytimes article about the university of north carolina, talent doesn't equal trouble, remember that the university fired matt doherty because of player/ parent unrest and booster unhappiness/ impatience with a freshman-laden team. these are not warm cuddly tarheels.
*since registration is required, here is the article from tom sorenson, linked above, dated 3.29.03:
UNC standing on shaky moral ground
School would be wrong to fire Doherty, who has a chance to be successful
TOM SORENSEN
ANAHEIM, Calif. - To find out what the North Carolina men's basketball team thinks of coach Matt Doherty, athletics director Dick Baddour met with players first as a group and the next day individually, although some brought parents.
What's next? Monday: Meet with players and their uncles. Tuesday: Meet with players and their best friends from high school who think they should go for 30 a game. Wednesday: Meet with players and Shirley, their favorite Waffle House waitress.
These meetings are stacked. When people get the opportunity to talk privately about their boss, criticism invariably ensues. If the relationship between management and labor were working, there would be no meeting.
Got a problem with the coach? How about the time he yanked you from the game and said you couldn't return unless you played defense? Here's an adult who cares what you think. Pay Doherty back.
Few of us know what goes on at practice or in the locker room. If Baddour learns Doherty slammed a player into a wall or engaged in the systematic humiliation that could cling to a kid for life -- and I'm not talking about yelling -- then fire him.
But education isn't what these sessions are about. If the school has decided to dump Doherty, who has three seasons left on his contract, North Carolina will want to collect evidence to support its decision.
North Carolina has never been a school that cavalierly ends the career of its coaches. Chapel Hill is more than the name of a town; it's the moral high ground from which the athletic department operates.
Dean Smith, who for 36 seasons coached the basketball team, remembers the names of his stars and subs and student managers, and their children and grandchildren. Smith is the patriarch and the players are his family. And while they might criticize each other internally, they rise up as one when an outsider does.
Doherty was part of the family, a starter on Smith's 1982 national championship team. Now he is close to being cast out, and the school really ought to explain why.
Is it because he did not make the NCAA tournament this season or failed to recruit a dominant big man?
Is it because of the anger he brings to the job, anger that has strained relationships with some players and ruined relationships with others, anger Doherty has worked to check?
Is it because he did not hire family members as assistant coaches? Is it because he cut back the number of tickets Smith had allotted to friends of the family?
Is it because, even though the Tar Heels appear to be on the way back, they might never come all the way back?
Or is it because once Doherty is run off, North Carolina can make a run at Roy Williams, the superb Kansas coach, family member and Carolina guy?
And if a school does this, if it undercuts a man who might have succeeded had it given more time to him, and less to his disgruntled players and their moms and dads, is it any more moral than anybody else?
recovered from a weekend spent with mia and not much sleep. also shooting thing in grand theft auto: vice city. thanks, rice-a-homie! now, back to work.
perhaps it was me... but the michigan state/ kentucky game was some bad basketball. not a thrilling, steal-at-the end classic, but a dumpy, "should we, like, play defense?" debacle.
when you are reading today's nytimes article about the university of north carolina, talent doesn't equal trouble, remember that the university fired matt doherty because of player/ parent unrest and booster unhappiness/ impatience with a freshman-laden team. these are not warm cuddly tarheels.
*since registration is required, here is the article from tom sorenson, linked above, dated 3.29.03:
UNC standing on shaky moral ground
School would be wrong to fire Doherty, who has a chance to be successful
TOM SORENSEN
ANAHEIM, Calif. - To find out what the North Carolina men's basketball team thinks of coach Matt Doherty, athletics director Dick Baddour met with players first as a group and the next day individually, although some brought parents.
What's next? Monday: Meet with players and their uncles. Tuesday: Meet with players and their best friends from high school who think they should go for 30 a game. Wednesday: Meet with players and Shirley, their favorite Waffle House waitress.
These meetings are stacked. When people get the opportunity to talk privately about their boss, criticism invariably ensues. If the relationship between management and labor were working, there would be no meeting.
Got a problem with the coach? How about the time he yanked you from the game and said you couldn't return unless you played defense? Here's an adult who cares what you think. Pay Doherty back.
Few of us know what goes on at practice or in the locker room. If Baddour learns Doherty slammed a player into a wall or engaged in the systematic humiliation that could cling to a kid for life -- and I'm not talking about yelling -- then fire him.
But education isn't what these sessions are about. If the school has decided to dump Doherty, who has three seasons left on his contract, North Carolina will want to collect evidence to support its decision.
North Carolina has never been a school that cavalierly ends the career of its coaches. Chapel Hill is more than the name of a town; it's the moral high ground from which the athletic department operates.
Dean Smith, who for 36 seasons coached the basketball team, remembers the names of his stars and subs and student managers, and their children and grandchildren. Smith is the patriarch and the players are his family. And while they might criticize each other internally, they rise up as one when an outsider does.
Doherty was part of the family, a starter on Smith's 1982 national championship team. Now he is close to being cast out, and the school really ought to explain why.
Is it because he did not make the NCAA tournament this season or failed to recruit a dominant big man?
Is it because of the anger he brings to the job, anger that has strained relationships with some players and ruined relationships with others, anger Doherty has worked to check?
Is it because he did not hire family members as assistant coaches? Is it because he cut back the number of tickets Smith had allotted to friends of the family?
Is it because, even though the Tar Heels appear to be on the way back, they might never come all the way back?
Or is it because once Doherty is run off, North Carolina can make a run at Roy Williams, the superb Kansas coach, family member and Carolina guy?
And if a school does this, if it undercuts a man who might have succeeded had it given more time to him, and less to his disgruntled players and their moms and dads, is it any more moral than anybody else?
Friday, March 25, 2005
notes 3.25.05
go louisville!
i was hoping that by now cablevision and time warner would stop their pissing contest and get the mets and knicks back on my television. i miss the knicks. i hear they even beat the spurs and the celtics. and jamal crawford finally saw shots he passed up. i love watching jamal. i want to see him play like a not-knucklehead.
additionally, i want to punch salim stoudamire. i think it was the interview with him and lute about how much of a perfectionist salim is, and how tempermental he is. i can just hear him telling all who will listen "i deserve..." like so many other basketball players.
on the flip side, have you seen a game with as little smooth athletic talent as texas tech/ w. virginia? it was like a tough rec league game out there. ronald ross had to reach for his dunk.
as i told silver, i would love to see john lucas on an NBA team. he's john stockton dirty and quick. not good, but quick. he's a charlie ward/ chris duhon type. and he's got that raspy voice.
last night's OC was a little sleep-inducing. faorite line: people never leave and come back. but the episode was lacking in lines. marisa is kind of adorable sometimes, and you have to love the return of the fistfight. tre (tray?) and his swarthy, rugged good looks are a little tired. he must have been quite popular in prison. and caleb... caleb is newport's last don! he's got henchmen! i love henchmen. what's he playing at?
*******
in non-sports related news:
Canada has denied refugee status to a US paratrooper who deserted from the 82nd Airborne Division to dodge combat in Iraq.
-and-
KMart has eaten Sears. It's a mega company, under the name Sears Holding Corporation, but the KMart and Sears names will survive. Read more about the two veteran retailers trying to get into a retail donnybrook with WalMart.
go louisville!
i was hoping that by now cablevision and time warner would stop their pissing contest and get the mets and knicks back on my television. i miss the knicks. i hear they even beat the spurs and the celtics. and jamal crawford finally saw shots he passed up. i love watching jamal. i want to see him play like a not-knucklehead.
additionally, i want to punch salim stoudamire. i think it was the interview with him and lute about how much of a perfectionist salim is, and how tempermental he is. i can just hear him telling all who will listen "i deserve..." like so many other basketball players.
on the flip side, have you seen a game with as little smooth athletic talent as texas tech/ w. virginia? it was like a tough rec league game out there. ronald ross had to reach for his dunk.
as i told silver, i would love to see john lucas on an NBA team. he's john stockton dirty and quick. not good, but quick. he's a charlie ward/ chris duhon type. and he's got that raspy voice.
last night's OC was a little sleep-inducing. faorite line: people never leave and come back. but the episode was lacking in lines. marisa is kind of adorable sometimes, and you have to love the return of the fistfight. tre (tray?) and his swarthy, rugged good looks are a little tired. he must have been quite popular in prison. and caleb... caleb is newport's last don! he's got henchmen! i love henchmen. what's he playing at?
in non-sports related news:
Canada has denied refugee status to a US paratrooper who deserted from the 82nd Airborne Division to dodge combat in Iraq.
KMart has eaten Sears. It's a mega company, under the name Sears Holding Corporation, but the KMart and Sears names will survive. Read more about the two veteran retailers trying to get into a retail donnybrook with WalMart.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
sweet sixteen 3.24.05
tonight i am watching the arizona/ oklahoma state game, in part because salim stoudamire just done shot off his mouth:
"Some reporter just told me the white guy (6-6 Daniel Bobik) is going to guard me," he said. "I don't know his name.
"I don't think anybody can guard me.
"I'm the only one who can stop me."
ohhhkay, salim. though your cousin is damon, and though you shoot 58% on your three-pointers... well, salim might get his shots off but i think channing "charmin" frye and crew won't go home happy.
tonight i am watching the arizona/ oklahoma state game, in part because salim stoudamire just done shot off his mouth:
"Some reporter just told me the white guy (6-6 Daniel Bobik) is going to guard me," he said. "I don't know his name.
"I don't think anybody can guard me.
"I'm the only one who can stop me."
ohhhkay, salim. though your cousin is damon, and though you shoot 58% on your three-pointers... well, salim might get his shots off but i think channing "charmin" frye and crew won't go home happy.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
backroom 3.23.05
somewhere between innovative and dorky lies this
after a fantasy baseball draft, i look over my squad. besides having a lot of red sox, i really don't have pitching. but i have david ortiz and albert pujols. i don't need 2 second basemen.
i contact mjunior. he is up for the umass basketball job but takes some time to think about the trade. he calls me while being chauffeured home.
let's meet up, he says. you don't have anything that i want but movie-fixer chris (the red sox of LA) wants ortiz, and david wells.
mjunior brings his laptop down and we set up in the town tavern, across from the west 4th street basketball cage. the fat black pussycat has a wireless network for free, apparently, and we pilfer their access. nuge. the bar is busy and cheap, geaorgetown is playing basketball in their ancient, high-school sized on-campus arena which seats about 20.
from there we work out the trade. i end up with pitching. and a first baseman i need to flip for someone else. mjunior gets adrian beltre to shore up his 3B position. chris gets ortiz and some pitching. once it is approved...
this is what the negotiations looked like.
and because this blog needs more cheesecake, here is maria grazia cucinotta, of il postino and the world is not enough. she was a ten minute bond girl. you may remember the opening chase scene in venice with her trying to escape in a hot-air balloon.
somewhere between innovative and dorky lies this
after a fantasy baseball draft, i look over my squad. besides having a lot of red sox, i really don't have pitching. but i have david ortiz and albert pujols. i don't need 2 second basemen.
i contact mjunior. he is up for the umass basketball job but takes some time to think about the trade. he calls me while being chauffeured home.
let's meet up, he says. you don't have anything that i want but movie-fixer chris (the red sox of LA) wants ortiz, and david wells.
mjunior brings his laptop down and we set up in the town tavern, across from the west 4th street basketball cage. the fat black pussycat has a wireless network for free, apparently, and we pilfer their access. nuge. the bar is busy and cheap, geaorgetown is playing basketball in their ancient, high-school sized on-campus arena which seats about 20.
from there we work out the trade. i end up with pitching. and a first baseman i need to flip for someone else. mjunior gets adrian beltre to shore up his 3B position. chris gets ortiz and some pitching. once it is approved...
this is what the negotiations looked like.
and because this blog needs more cheesecake, here is maria grazia cucinotta, of il postino and the world is not enough. she was a ten minute bond girl. you may remember the opening chase scene in venice with her trying to escape in a hot-air balloon.
Monday, March 21, 2005
interloper 3.21.05
sweet jesus i have a lot of homework. and spring break shark attack was awful. featuring the oc's shannon lucio's breasts. now that she's famous, will she ever come back to the oc?
*****
i always believe that the difference between the republican and democratic philosophies is that the democrats want to use government to improve the lot of the people and republicans want to allow the market and individuals to make their own decisions.
yet we have a president who flies back on a sunday to sign a bill to restrict a man from pulling the plug on his wife who has been functionally dead for 15 years. this should be a question of who gets to execute her will in absentia, right? actually, come to think about it, i don't know what the precedent has been-- does a husband/ wife get to decide for their significant other?
i need to find new news to read. you can read some pertinent legal documents here. and here is the oc's shannon lucio. in a bikini.
*****
i have been distracted by this year's ncaa tournament. which has been crazy. west virginia? nc state playing like i always thought they would? oklahoma state in trouble in every game? nuts!
best of all is that i finally got to cap off a weekend of watching basketball with eben and silver. they and i had lunch with megan and matt c and mjunior filled with wings, brews, ballin', and those wisconsin men and women next to us. i did think that one was cute. nice kids. eben, thanks for the gifts-- a basketball net and finger sleeves they wear in basketball.
best of all was the guy a table away from them. he was cheering hard for bucknell, like he reps the bisons. like he should have worn an orange jersey and stuck his thumbs in the armpits to better show the cameras that he went to bucknell. anyway, this mop haired fella sat across from two more socially adjusted friends, howling whenever bucknell did anything positive. we're pretty sure he had a bet of some sort on bucknell to cover the spread; this jackass was yelling at free throw shooters after the game was decided, and stood up to see if the last minute heave went in. we and the wisconsin fans clapped and stomped for wisconsin just to spite this tool.
he reminded me of the guy in vegas who asked me to watch his drink while he went to place a bet. "i'm gonna put some money on west virginia," he said, "so i have a reason to watch."
when that comes out of my mouth, slap the black off of me.
props to vermont and also to the senator and taso who drove down from boston, and to matt k who is whooping my ass like i stole something in every fantasy sport. also props to him and the bird-- your boys can swim! your boys can swim! you are a real man!
sweet jesus i have a lot of homework. and spring break shark attack was awful. featuring the oc's shannon lucio's breasts. now that she's famous, will she ever come back to the oc?
i always believe that the difference between the republican and democratic philosophies is that the democrats want to use government to improve the lot of the people and republicans want to allow the market and individuals to make their own decisions.
yet we have a president who flies back on a sunday to sign a bill to restrict a man from pulling the plug on his wife who has been functionally dead for 15 years. this should be a question of who gets to execute her will in absentia, right? actually, come to think about it, i don't know what the precedent has been-- does a husband/ wife get to decide for their significant other?
i need to find new news to read. you can read some pertinent legal documents here. and here is the oc's shannon lucio. in a bikini.
i have been distracted by this year's ncaa tournament. which has been crazy. west virginia? nc state playing like i always thought they would? oklahoma state in trouble in every game? nuts!
best of all is that i finally got to cap off a weekend of watching basketball with eben and silver. they and i had lunch with megan and matt c and mjunior filled with wings, brews, ballin', and those wisconsin men and women next to us. i did think that one was cute. nice kids. eben, thanks for the gifts-- a basketball net and finger sleeves they wear in basketball.
best of all was the guy a table away from them. he was cheering hard for bucknell, like he reps the bisons. like he should have worn an orange jersey and stuck his thumbs in the armpits to better show the cameras that he went to bucknell. anyway, this mop haired fella sat across from two more socially adjusted friends, howling whenever bucknell did anything positive. we're pretty sure he had a bet of some sort on bucknell to cover the spread; this jackass was yelling at free throw shooters after the game was decided, and stood up to see if the last minute heave went in. we and the wisconsin fans clapped and stomped for wisconsin just to spite this tool.
he reminded me of the guy in vegas who asked me to watch his drink while he went to place a bet. "i'm gonna put some money on west virginia," he said, "so i have a reason to watch."
when that comes out of my mouth, slap the black off of me.
props to vermont and also to the senator and taso who drove down from boston, and to matt k who is whooping my ass like i stole something in every fantasy sport. also props to him and the bird-- your boys can swim! your boys can swim! you are a real man!
what i meant to say in the late saturday post 3.21.05
golly, what a keen birfday! gosh, even though i telephoned my pals a bit late, many of them came out! 23 skidoo! but they bought me alcohol, the devil's blood. icky! cripes, was i wobbly!
for reals, it was hot times. even though pixel and starla and haylz were not there. even though i didn't get lit and pop a cabbie in the nose. boy sammy, your joint takes the cake. you will have a prison bound mix made for you once i am done getting my ass kicked by my current assignments. marge, make fun of the guy.
i forgot to mention matt c was there. craig aka c-lo and tevika. elana showed up all curls and a smiles. the bar was ass-to-ass people and i went to the b-side bar down the block to relieve myself, where i ran into elana again. a-alike took lots of pictures, look at her site for a visual recap.
arroz drove me home and we had mcdonald's in his car. i ate like a drunken cro-mag. and it was strange to flip on elimidate and see this kid who is v. familiar then i remembered-- she was the wild kid danielle crawling on the floor. but she was eliminated in the first round. she was much better looking than the rest and looks good on television.
my throat hurts hard. here is myself, tevika, lana.
golly, what a keen birfday! gosh, even though i telephoned my pals a bit late, many of them came out! 23 skidoo! but they bought me alcohol, the devil's blood. icky! cripes, was i wobbly!
for reals, it was hot times. even though pixel and starla and haylz were not there. even though i didn't get lit and pop a cabbie in the nose. boy sammy, your joint takes the cake. you will have a prison bound mix made for you once i am done getting my ass kicked by my current assignments. marge, make fun of the guy.
i forgot to mention matt c was there. craig aka c-lo and tevika. elana showed up all curls and a smiles. the bar was ass-to-ass people and i went to the b-side bar down the block to relieve myself, where i ran into elana again. a-alike took lots of pictures, look at her site for a visual recap.
arroz drove me home and we had mcdonald's in his car. i ate like a drunken cro-mag. and it was strange to flip on elimidate and see this kid who is v. familiar then i remembered-- she was the wild kid danielle crawling on the floor. but she was eliminated in the first round. she was much better looking than the rest and looks good on television.
my throat hurts hard. here is myself, tevika, lana.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
me hammered. watching elimidate and this kid danielle-- i met her at paradise hotel dave's party. she's fucking crazy and these kids don't even know! wow. creepy to see someone you remotely know on elimidate. ok, props to lori and thorne and arroz and silver and lana-p and gurney and eben and nascar and cappy and a-alike and ray ray and ray ray's hot sister sorky. and veronica and kate from the lou and she's proud. and also and most of all mia. me go sleep now.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Thursday, March 17, 2005
tourney time! 3.17.05
happy st pat's day
tournament day and i am moving sl-l-low. last night i caught some drinks with dijah and her friend bangabi (i think) and we made the crowd at cedar angry, what with the yelling at all.
thoughts for the day:
what exactly is the senate (or is it the house?) going to do with their steroid meetings? make roids more illegal? why so public?
speaking of public, way to go new york post, putting defensive end michael strahan on blast. and people wonder why barry bonds is so reclusive to the media.
tournament-- i think UNC might show well and i hate to say that. i am liking wisconsin, louisville, pacific, UAB, nc state, and UTEP to spring an upset. i gotta get gone, folks, more later.
happy st pat's day
tournament day and i am moving sl-l-low. last night i caught some drinks with dijah and her friend bangabi (i think) and we made the crowd at cedar angry, what with the yelling at all.
thoughts for the day:
what exactly is the senate (or is it the house?) going to do with their steroid meetings? make roids more illegal? why so public?
speaking of public, way to go new york post, putting defensive end michael strahan on blast. and people wonder why barry bonds is so reclusive to the media.
tournament-- i think UNC might show well and i hate to say that. i am liking wisconsin, louisville, pacific, UAB, nc state, and UTEP to spring an upset. i gotta get gone, folks, more later.
Monday, March 14, 2005
wedding plan: wednesday.
a few months back, neverecho approached me with a proposition. las vegas for emily's wedding, with the lodgings paid for, conveniently scheduled around spring break. neither of us had been in the bright lights and seamy aura of sin city. both of us are risk averse, both of us are eager to leave the east coast cold.
we planned to meet in LV around midday, assuming our flights took of as scheduled and our connecting flights did the same.
i spent monday night in the newniversity's library, polishing off some work i should have gotten to earlier, and trying to work on some fiction to take with me. i went home in the morning to find that rain was coming down and i though, hm, i didn't see this in the forecast.
the rain was a bad omen. i woke 3 hours later on tuesday to the howl of a wintry wind and blasting snow. that is never good for airplanes, of course. by evening, airports had delays and cancellations and i had worry. in the District, meanwhile, the snow had left for my northern climes, sitting on us like bitter punishment and leaving my tired ass up half the night on hold, trying to switch to a 4 pm flight from newark.
instead i was rebooked on an 9 pm flight, direct.
didn't sleep much. let echo know where i was. she, meanwhile, touched down, had lunch with emily, and something or other and this and that. i got to the airport with too much time to spare. watched college basketball. i enjoyed the simple broke-assedness of the delta/ song termnial, where i was inspired to actually use the term "ghetto" to describe it. i was happy not to be the people who were there since 6 am.
the flight left at 11 pm. i love waiting on three hours sleep each of three nights. the passengers clapped heartily when we got off the ground. i let echo know when i would come in, and hoped that i would be able to touch down and party at 5 am nyc time/ 2 am pacific.
after all, the city never sleeps.
the vegas airport was spacious and i got the tip to look for the airport shuttle vans. cheap and the driver chatted me up about UNLV sports. the bellagio was still lively, of course, and once i convinced the front desk that my first name and my middle name were the same person.
ate cold pizza. echo and the wedding party were tired of the ghost bar at the palms, so they came back. we drank at caramel in the bellagio. i couldn't tell hooker from not. the groom's name is dave and we talked basketball. he loves illadelph sports.
we're drunk so we drunk dial mjunior.
a few months back, neverecho approached me with a proposition. las vegas for emily's wedding, with the lodgings paid for, conveniently scheduled around spring break. neither of us had been in the bright lights and seamy aura of sin city. both of us are risk averse, both of us are eager to leave the east coast cold.
we planned to meet in LV around midday, assuming our flights took of as scheduled and our connecting flights did the same.
i spent monday night in the newniversity's library, polishing off some work i should have gotten to earlier, and trying to work on some fiction to take with me. i went home in the morning to find that rain was coming down and i though, hm, i didn't see this in the forecast.
the rain was a bad omen. i woke 3 hours later on tuesday to the howl of a wintry wind and blasting snow. that is never good for airplanes, of course. by evening, airports had delays and cancellations and i had worry. in the District, meanwhile, the snow had left for my northern climes, sitting on us like bitter punishment and leaving my tired ass up half the night on hold, trying to switch to a 4 pm flight from newark.
instead i was rebooked on an 9 pm flight, direct.
didn't sleep much. let echo know where i was. she, meanwhile, touched down, had lunch with emily, and something or other and this and that. i got to the airport with too much time to spare. watched college basketball. i enjoyed the simple broke-assedness of the delta/ song termnial, where i was inspired to actually use the term "ghetto" to describe it. i was happy not to be the people who were there since 6 am.
the flight left at 11 pm. i love waiting on three hours sleep each of three nights. the passengers clapped heartily when we got off the ground. i let echo know when i would come in, and hoped that i would be able to touch down and party at 5 am nyc time/ 2 am pacific.
after all, the city never sleeps.
the vegas airport was spacious and i got the tip to look for the airport shuttle vans. cheap and the driver chatted me up about UNLV sports. the bellagio was still lively, of course, and once i convinced the front desk that my first name and my middle name were the same person.
ate cold pizza. echo and the wedding party were tired of the ghost bar at the palms, so they came back. we drank at caramel in the bellagio. i couldn't tell hooker from not. the groom's name is dave and we talked basketball. he loves illadelph sports.
we're drunk so we drunk dial mjunior.
wedding plan: thursday.
i really needed sleep. so i got up at 9 am and watched more conference basketball games. echo and i talked about basketball from our beds, and about her duke blue devils, and about what punks those unc tar heels are. our hotel had an obscured view of the strip and a good view of the mountains. we had time to get room service breakfast before the wedding rehearsal. i realized i didn't have to be there; went upstairs and passed out.
we had brunch in a restaurant in the bellagio called olive. it's dark and well designed and from my seat, i had a few of the fountain show at the hotel. no, soldati, i didn't pee in the fountain. i sat next to the groom's aunt and uncle who paid for the whole high class shebang; i need a benefactor.
the bridesmaids and groomsmen were also with us, and we talked about ultimate fighting through a lunch that laid us all out with gourmet goodness. i think the flatbread pizzas made us all question whether we could eat the entreés; and the dessert had a grapefruit flavored shaved ice cone stuck in a shortcake.
where's the picture of that, echo?
we walked out of the bellagio, which we found was a difficult thing to do. the hotels are self-contained cities, hundreds of staff, dance clubs and restaurants. the bellagio alone has a wing i never saw, the butterfly cage, the ceiling of blown glass, the awnings to make you feel like you're in open sky, a whole upscale mall.
outside, vegas was hot, busy, filled with slow-walking tourists. slot machines everywhere, men and a woman trying to hand out flyers to strip clubs, people asking if we are a couple. the mgm grand has live lions and a chiller mall. and jello shots.
and then there is new york new york. which is my + echo's favorite-- relaxed atmosphere. people who look like i might want to talk to them- versus the bellagio, where everyone looks like the not-quite-classy suburban parent who is letting their cocknoxious side out. everything was at normal human prices and we threw money into the slot machines.
the streets were hot and we bought an excessively large bottle of water. i checked out the sportsbook, multiple tv's and betting options. i sat with a man who asked me to watch his drink; he had to lay a bet on the west virginia game so he "would have something to watch."
echo and the bridesmaids took emily out for coffee. i slept. we ate an okay dinner-- not great, not awful, at vialé at caesar's palace.
i really needed sleep. so i got up at 9 am and watched more conference basketball games. echo and i talked about basketball from our beds, and about her duke blue devils, and about what punks those unc tar heels are. our hotel had an obscured view of the strip and a good view of the mountains. we had time to get room service breakfast before the wedding rehearsal. i realized i didn't have to be there; went upstairs and passed out.
we had brunch in a restaurant in the bellagio called olive. it's dark and well designed and from my seat, i had a few of the fountain show at the hotel. no, soldati, i didn't pee in the fountain. i sat next to the groom's aunt and uncle who paid for the whole high class shebang; i need a benefactor.
the bridesmaids and groomsmen were also with us, and we talked about ultimate fighting through a lunch that laid us all out with gourmet goodness. i think the flatbread pizzas made us all question whether we could eat the entreés; and the dessert had a grapefruit flavored shaved ice cone stuck in a shortcake.
where's the picture of that, echo?
we walked out of the bellagio, which we found was a difficult thing to do. the hotels are self-contained cities, hundreds of staff, dance clubs and restaurants. the bellagio alone has a wing i never saw, the butterfly cage, the ceiling of blown glass, the awnings to make you feel like you're in open sky, a whole upscale mall.
outside, vegas was hot, busy, filled with slow-walking tourists. slot machines everywhere, men and a woman trying to hand out flyers to strip clubs, people asking if we are a couple. the mgm grand has live lions and a chiller mall. and jello shots.
and then there is new york new york. which is my + echo's favorite-- relaxed atmosphere. people who look like i might want to talk to them- versus the bellagio, where everyone looks like the not-quite-classy suburban parent who is letting their cocknoxious side out. everything was at normal human prices and we threw money into the slot machines.
the streets were hot and we bought an excessively large bottle of water. i checked out the sportsbook, multiple tv's and betting options. i sat with a man who asked me to watch his drink; he had to lay a bet on the west virginia game so he "would have something to watch."
echo and the bridesmaids took emily out for coffee. i slept. we ate an okay dinner-- not great, not awful, at vialé at caesar's palace.
wedding plan: friday.
wake and breakfast buffet at the bellagio. the nascar fans were everywhere; there was a race on sunday and the bellagio was teeming in jean shorts, #3 shirts, and tucked shortsleeves. one of those bastards took the booth we were assigned to, though our ticket was there. so lesson to you kids-- get your coffee and orange juice from your server so no dumb couple with super cuts take your spot.
that aside, and after echo's near temper tantrum, that was the dopest buffet. blintzes, kid, blintzes. i wish my stomach was bigger.
the wedding was 3 pm; the bridesmaids, including echo, left early. i called the other brother at the wedding, curtis. we met for drinks by the sports book. he was playing video blackjack and the bartender told me that my drinks would be comped if i was playing. though risk averse i slid a ten spot in the game and chatted with curtis about his writing and webster u. while talking to the bartender about how sticky moving to vegas simply to make money can be, and about the well known bars in vegas curtis looks over. "i'm not gambling with you again." he's at 4 dollars left on his video blackjack game. i'm up at $42.
i printed out my high rolling lootcakes and moved on to the wedding.
it was a short ceremony and emily, who is beautiful to begin with, looked stunning. neither curtis nor i got many good pictures but some are decent. vows were exchanged and all 50 or so people strolled to the gaugin room. or maybe it was another painter. i don't know.
yes, i was in love with the piano player. he played tunes from norah jones and ben folds five and the isley brothers and my request for marvin gaye. he was a fine fellow who has toured with the bar-kays and enjoys living in vegas. for fun dave and emily left us with those twist-bottom confetti exploder things. we pop 'em off and mine go partly into the turkey option. the server poked fun at me and kept asking me to come over to take gold shiny paper from her area. the featured drink was sweet and the eats were excellent. i spent a good amount of time with emily's parents jim and linda, and with dave's uncle, talking about texas while he sat smoking a cigarette alone in the hallway.
we met upstairs for more drinks and a view from the 33rd floor with the newlyweds; then down to club light- myself, echo, chris, curtis, courtney. yes, in the bellagio. it wasn't bad but it's hard to meet people without a couple of women in tow to either make people want to dance near you or to make a fella look like less of a pariah.
famous person sighting: herman edwards. right in front of me on the bellagio floor. rock.
we went to sleep fairly early, but got a visitor who slept over. in the sad way, not in the slap it up, flip it, rub it down way.
wake and breakfast buffet at the bellagio. the nascar fans were everywhere; there was a race on sunday and the bellagio was teeming in jean shorts, #3 shirts, and tucked shortsleeves. one of those bastards took the booth we were assigned to, though our ticket was there. so lesson to you kids-- get your coffee and orange juice from your server so no dumb couple with super cuts take your spot.
that aside, and after echo's near temper tantrum, that was the dopest buffet. blintzes, kid, blintzes. i wish my stomach was bigger.
the wedding was 3 pm; the bridesmaids, including echo, left early. i called the other brother at the wedding, curtis. we met for drinks by the sports book. he was playing video blackjack and the bartender told me that my drinks would be comped if i was playing. though risk averse i slid a ten spot in the game and chatted with curtis about his writing and webster u. while talking to the bartender about how sticky moving to vegas simply to make money can be, and about the well known bars in vegas curtis looks over. "i'm not gambling with you again." he's at 4 dollars left on his video blackjack game. i'm up at $42.
i printed out my high rolling lootcakes and moved on to the wedding.
it was a short ceremony and emily, who is beautiful to begin with, looked stunning. neither curtis nor i got many good pictures but some are decent. vows were exchanged and all 50 or so people strolled to the gaugin room. or maybe it was another painter. i don't know.
yes, i was in love with the piano player. he played tunes from norah jones and ben folds five and the isley brothers and my request for marvin gaye. he was a fine fellow who has toured with the bar-kays and enjoys living in vegas. for fun dave and emily left us with those twist-bottom confetti exploder things. we pop 'em off and mine go partly into the turkey option. the server poked fun at me and kept asking me to come over to take gold shiny paper from her area. the featured drink was sweet and the eats were excellent. i spent a good amount of time with emily's parents jim and linda, and with dave's uncle, talking about texas while he sat smoking a cigarette alone in the hallway.
we met upstairs for more drinks and a view from the 33rd floor with the newlyweds; then down to club light- myself, echo, chris, curtis, courtney. yes, in the bellagio. it wasn't bad but it's hard to meet people without a couple of women in tow to either make people want to dance near you or to make a fella look like less of a pariah.
famous person sighting: herman edwards. right in front of me on the bellagio floor. rock.
we went to sleep fairly early, but got a visitor who slept over. in the sad way, not in the slap it up, flip it, rub it down way.
wedding plan: saturday.
we couldn't pick a place to eat breakfast. we should have hit the brunch buffet. but while walking in the streets, we saw a pair of guys, one with his shirt off and the other with a drink in hand, slurring a conversation about abortion. a homeless fellow with his long hair ratty and crap on his pants, no underwear came down the walk talking and laughing to himself. then proceeded to put his face into the fountain at caesar's and all we saw of him was ass-up, legs in the air.
i knew i would miss the heat and the activity, the all night fever, the lights. but it was time to go home. after listening to a long bit on the growing vegas, less sin, more city. my plane back was on time but i got into an argument with a woman who was straight yapping her day away and not moving her backside into her seat. the crazy woman sitting next to me switched seats and i ended up with a window seat and a space. and outside, american cities were shimmering collections of light, strung together by interstates.
we couldn't pick a place to eat breakfast. we should have hit the brunch buffet. but while walking in the streets, we saw a pair of guys, one with his shirt off and the other with a drink in hand, slurring a conversation about abortion. a homeless fellow with his long hair ratty and crap on his pants, no underwear came down the walk talking and laughing to himself. then proceeded to put his face into the fountain at caesar's and all we saw of him was ass-up, legs in the air.
i knew i would miss the heat and the activity, the all night fever, the lights. but it was time to go home. after listening to a long bit on the growing vegas, less sin, more city. my plane back was on time but i got into an argument with a woman who was straight yapping her day away and not moving her backside into her seat. the crazy woman sitting next to me switched seats and i ended up with a window seat and a space. and outside, american cities were shimmering collections of light, strung together by interstates.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
i'm back like jay-z. 3.2.05
let me hear you say PI-CO! PI-CO!
i come back from my week's retirement, back from the accounting studio, armed with new links. i'm here to say to all you rap n***as reading my blog, y'all got to stop with this bussin' off shots and startin' beefs. yeah, you, 50 cent and "the game." mr game-- or should i call you "the?" this whole firing shots outside of hot 97, shooting in front of 50 cent's company? this is silly. the rest of the black people still feel like you're embarrassing us.
come on, fitty. come on, the. why don't y'all play pool instead? or kubb? it's swedish. go somewhere unique. have a ski-off. make humorous rival porno movies so your fans can comment in semi-understandable i-m english.
50 cent may be "over," but i don't want more t-shirts with his face on them, 5 or 6 albums of unreleased music with g-unit mates tony yayo and lloyd banks, murals, and women in southeast queens crying. end this garbage. we're tired of it. fitty-- aka curtis jackson-- you are not bulletproof. your SUV is. if you were, you would not have bullet holes and bullet scars.
okay, y'all got it? don't make me come up from my studies again.
p.s., everyone else, if you happen to be caught in a rap shootout, remember, don't say "what are you gonna do, shoot us?" they're not going to wise up and drop their weapons.
let me hear you say PI-CO! PI-CO!
i come back from my week's retirement, back from the accounting studio, armed with new links. i'm here to say to all you rap n***as reading my blog, y'all got to stop with this bussin' off shots and startin' beefs. yeah, you, 50 cent and "the game." mr game-- or should i call you "the?" this whole firing shots outside of hot 97, shooting in front of 50 cent's company? this is silly. the rest of the black people still feel like you're embarrassing us.
come on, fitty. come on, the. why don't y'all play pool instead? or kubb? it's swedish. go somewhere unique. have a ski-off. make humorous rival porno movies so your fans can comment in semi-understandable i-m english.
50 cent may be "over," but i don't want more t-shirts with his face on them, 5 or 6 albums of unreleased music with g-unit mates tony yayo and lloyd banks, murals, and women in southeast queens crying. end this garbage. we're tired of it. fitty-- aka curtis jackson-- you are not bulletproof. your SUV is. if you were, you would not have bullet holes and bullet scars.
okay, y'all got it? don't make me come up from my studies again.
p.s., everyone else, if you happen to be caught in a rap shootout, remember, don't say "what are you gonna do, shoot us?" they're not going to wise up and drop their weapons.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
things i learned this weekend: leave a conversation when you hear "you're too good to be true. you're sweet, well-mannered, and not trying to get into my pants."
as a result of such conversations your darling pico has begun to wonder if he is not a little damaged. coupled with some other conversations about lack of trust in people and pessimism, pico feels he needs a little time to himself.
also, pico's been off of his blog game, such as it were. no political rants, no talking about how 50 cent is kind of embarrassing with his crew getting shot at near/ in the the hot 97 studios, no black history month jokes, no comments aimed at the west side stadium boondoggle (schnapp, if you read this, feel free to make a smart ass comment about the linked new york times article). no comments about how my high school peers are writing for the nytimes (3 of them!) and two are rappers-- one whom i actually like and one whose mother i work with (and never knew about his rappin' styles).
so i will be back in a few days, maybe a week-- right before vegas happens.
until then, read about the mets' kris and anna benson. or, since she updated her site, have a longer look at ms. benson.
as a result of such conversations your darling pico has begun to wonder if he is not a little damaged. coupled with some other conversations about lack of trust in people and pessimism, pico feels he needs a little time to himself.
also, pico's been off of his blog game, such as it were. no political rants, no talking about how 50 cent is kind of embarrassing with his crew getting shot at near/ in the the hot 97 studios, no black history month jokes, no comments aimed at the west side stadium boondoggle (schnapp, if you read this, feel free to make a smart ass comment about the linked new york times article). no comments about how my high school peers are writing for the nytimes (3 of them!) and two are rappers-- one whom i actually like and one whose mother i work with (and never knew about his rappin' styles).
so i will be back in a few days, maybe a week-- right before vegas happens.
until then, read about the mets' kris and anna benson. or, since she updated her site, have a longer look at ms. benson.
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