Stone's Throw from Porn

PORNOGRAPHY!!!

Do I have your attention?

According to the October 6-12 issue of Time Out New York, I'm within about 300 feet of two of their eight top-rated neighborhood sex stores in all of New York City. I can only imagine how thrilled my family is about my apartment choice.

Here are a few select excerpts from my local sex shops:
Most succinct title: Big Piss, Volume 1 ($29.99)
Come here if: You're looking for that '70's wood-paneling vibe and you don't mind an odd hint of vinegar in the air.
Most potentially painful item: The Fist Dildo ($24.99)

Mind you, I subscribe to TONY for the restaurant reviews and bar recommendations. Instead I'm told the most disturbing video at Pleasure Video is called "Animal Porn: Eels", and the item with the most versimilitude is the Uncut Foreskin Realistic Cock dildo ($38.99)?? Great, now they just need some vaseline and a dictionary!

And isn't $38.99 a rip off? Personally, I'd wait for that baby to hit the discount rack, and then I imagine those things just sell themselves!

p.s. I feel dirty just writing about this

A Korean Delicacy

Two weeks ago I went with some people from the office to lunch at Kang Suh Korean BBQ in Koreatown. Certainly one of the highlights of the meal was our discovering a particular item on the menu: Gaejang & Doenjang Jigae.

I’m told it’s quite a dish, and for only $15.95, it’s definitely nothing to poo-poo at:

There's a flavor here I just can't put my finger on. Is it...is it nutmeg??

Unfortunately, nobody ordered it, so I don't know what actually ends up on your plate.

My Hands Go Well with Pancakes & Waffles

Why does my left hand smell like maple syrup right now? I haven't had syrup in months. I didn't even eat breakfast this morning.

You think it's funny, but seriously, it smells like i just slapped Aunt Jemima in the face.

Who Wants to Touch Me?

Let me tell you how famous I am.

I recently found out that Jen Garrett, loyal Red Sox fan and Barq's Red Crème Soda drinker, was beginning a quest: to read and discuss a new blog everyday for a month. Now my first reaction was, "I've been right all along, Red Sox fans are crazy."

But then again, Barq's is really good, and decided to read a few posts and see what she had to say. I was impressed with her diverse picks, so on a whim, I dropped her a note telling her about NYDenizen, with the caveat that I'm new at this, and really have no idea how to blog or what to say when I do. Frankly, I don't even speak English-- these posts are directly lifted from my English-Namibian, Namibian-English dictionary and accompanying common phrases.

Needless to say, I was both extremely surprised and quite honored that she chose NYDenizen as her pick for September 10th! Woo-hoo!! Validation!! Or perhaps just evidence that she couldn't find anything about the Red Sox that day. The title of the post was "The One Where She Finally Loses Her Mind", so I can't dismiss my theory that Red Sox fans are, in fact, nuts.

I do however appreciate that she was willing to overlook the divisiveness of our baseball allegiances (have I mentioned I'm a big Yankees fan?), for the sake of...something. I mean, the last blog she discussed before mine was about a guy who came out to his wife at 48! You're telling me I've got to follow that?? This guy is going through gut-wrenching and constant emotional turmoil; I, on the other hand, make fun of Bush and tell stories about my farts. Well done, Jen Garrett, well done.

Karma does work in strange ways though. The day after Jen wrote about NYDenizen and how her Sox beat my Yankees, the Yanks struck back for a big win today, getting us that much closer to the AL East title. This was a nice treat to help get some New Yorkers' minds off the stigma of today's date, though just a small condolence.

In the end, this shout-out definitely made my day. Jen, however, is convinced that she could easily turn me into a Red Sox fan-- in 20 minutes, no less. Jen, I really appreciate your bringing my blog into the limelight and everything, but you'd have a better chance of making that 48-year-old guy dig chicks. You have been enormously helpful though: I finally have proof that Red Sox fans are, in fact, totally fucking wrong.

Home is Where Wings Take Dream

My friend Matt, a staunch Republican, sent me this video today. I think it solidifies the suspicions we have about our President, and his "use" of the English language.

Only 1229 days, 23 hours, and 42 minutes until we are rid of this "intellectual".
(Thank you to The Bush Countdown Clock for this handy bit of info)

Got a Little (hic) Captain In Ya?

Have you seen these commercials for Captain Morgan's Original Spiced Rum? It's the 30-second spot where they show a bunch of average people in average situations, posing just like the Captain Morgan cartoon on the bottle's label: Hand on the waist, chest puffed out, left leg is hoisted up.

It's a weird commercial. But it gets weirder when the slogan appears: "Got a little Captain in ya?"

Is it me, or are they asking if you literally have Captain Morgan's rum in you, like, now? Next time you watch it, keep that in mind. If it helps, say the words "...and I've just been guzzling rum!" every time the commercial presents a new person in a new situation.

• I'm going through an airport security checkpoint...and I've just been guzzling rum!
• I'm cooking in kitchen in the middle of the day...and I've just been guzzling rum!
• I'm getting a check-up at the doctor...and I've just been guzzling rum!

And it keeps on going. One guy is shown fixing the IT in a corporate server room. Another is working in the stacks of a library. Yet another is shown about to start examining some guy's mouth at a dentist's office.

I've gotta ask-- is this a commercial for recreational drinking, or just a promotion for alcoholism? Are any of these situations ones where you think to yourself, "Sure, this is fine, but man I should be DRUNK!"

These are people at their jobs, mainly in the service industry. How does this sell more liquor?

What this commercial teaches me is that, according to Captain Morgan, life would be better if I was tanked by noon. Well thanks, Captain, but I don't need a commercial to learn that. I could have just asked the bum outside my building for his strategy to success.

I think that if C.M. is gonna advocate my bum's lifestyle, then the new C.M. labels should show the Captain lying in the crevice between two buildings, curled up under a bunch of newspapers, in a puddle of his own urine, with a bottle of rum in his hand.

Don't worry-- we'll make sure the bottle is Captain Morgan's brand, just so everyone knows HE has a little Captain in him.

Insects and New York Real Estate

My building is fairly bug-free, but that's because cockroaches aren't allowed to enter without a broker.

I.D. and the Unintelligent Debate (Update)

As a follow up to my post on Intelligent Design & Creationism., here's an even better article on the evolution "debate", which was published in The New York Times earlier this week. It makes a really fantastic argument of shooting down ID&C.

Link

You Picked This Over a New Lexus?

Here's one way to spend $45,000 really quick.

I Didn't Know "Jewish Idiot" was Spelled with a Silent "Y" Either

An except from last night's conversation between my friend, Michelle, and the random dude who was hitting on her:

Michelle: Oh, you're Jewish? Do you keep kosher?
Guy: Well, outside of the house I don't. I'd say I'm "SK".
Michelle: "SK"?
Guy: Yeah, you know, "pseudo-kosher".

--Pop Burger, 14th St. & 9th Ave.

Then he asked for her number.

He Really Does Grammar Good

From today's BOLDFACE, by Campbell Robertson (New York Times):

...We also asked why [Michael Ian Black] was wearing women's clothing in his few scenes in "The Baxter." Mr. Black replied that he often wore his wife's clothing, like her dungarees, though he added that the jeans were very tight and that he had to use certain special effects in certain areas to convey a virile image.

"I have a reputation to create," he said.

You have to keep in mind, we said, this is The New York Times.

"Oh, right. I have a reputation whom to create. Is that right?"

...And That's Why My Ass is Sore

Note to self: The speed cycling class at your gym is the devil.

25 young women made me look really out of shape tonight.

I think...yeah, I'm gonna cry.

Soundtrack for Walking

Do you ever find yourself walking down the street listening to music, and a song comes on that's perfect for your walking situation? I mean, the beat matches your strides, you keep pace with the rhythm, it's upbeat. If this was a scene from a movie, the song that's playing would be exactly the track you'd use when you scored the film. It's a "life soundtrack" moment.

Think about when The Who's "Baba O'Reilly (Teenage Wasteland)" started playing while Kevin Spacey was jogging in American Beauty.

(By the way, if you have made it this far in, and have no idea what I'm talking about, you should probably stop reading now. Clearly you'll never get it, and you probably have no imagination whatsoever. I'm sorry for you. Moving along...)

A common topic among technology journalists over the last couple of years has been the intelligence programmed into an iPod's auto-shuffle mode. Apple refuses to discuss the algorithm, but for those of you who own iPods, a question has probably crossed your mind. How does the iPod pick the songs it plays?? Some iPod listeners have gone so far to suggest a psychic element to the devices, or at least that it has a primitive brain. Well, that's ridiculous. But sometimes you gotta wonder; sometimes the music is just too perfect.

Today was one of those "life soundtrack" moments. As I walked home from work down 6th Avenue, steady pace, smoothly slaloming between pedestrians (busy taking touristy snapshots of the ESB or who are just standing idly because they're homeless and crazy), my iPod finally frightened me with its talent.

First came the funk. That recognizable intro. "Play that Funky Music (White Boy)" came on, and it was good. Yes, I have "Play that Funky Music" in my music collection. Needless to say, I was incredibly pleased with this serendipitous choice of music. Let me put it this way: If you've ever experienced PtFM while strolling down the street, it's like watching Travolta strut down the sidewalk in Saturday Night Fever. There's soul. There's a hop in your step.

This was good walking music. You couldn't find a song any better than this, right? I mean, right?

****

The iPod has a brain. It has a brain. There is no way a simple electronic device could pull this off. I have 4,000+ songs on my iPod, and yet it looked into its soul (yes, I'm flipping sides, this thing definitely has a soul...and complete self-awareness too, for that matter) and tried to figure out if it could somehow out-do itself.

It did.

5 seconds before PFM ended, it began to cross-fade to the next track. Suddenly, in came that familiar drum intro and a distinctive high-hat. Then, boom, in comes the bass with a funky 70's twang.

Ve-ry su-per-stitiouuuuussss....
Writing's on the waaaallllllllll,
Ve-ry su-per-stitiouuuuussss....
Ladder's 'bout to fall
Thirteen month old ba-by, broke the lookin’ glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past.

Stevie Wonder. Superstition. One of the finest songs of any generation. iPod, you have made my day. And I am a true believer.

When you believe in things that you don’t understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition ain’t the waaaaayyyyy...

I.D. and the Unintelligent Debate

Verlyn Klinkenborg had an excellent editorial in the New York Times today that is one of the best syntheses I've read in recent time about the "evolution discussion." Rather than try to synopsize her thoughts, just have a read from the source.

My hope is that this issue will die quickly so that people can move on to discussions that help us move forward as a culture. For now, people have chosen to reawaken a medieval debate about a campaign that doesn't deserve to be called "a theory."

A scientific hypothesis that survives experimental testing becomes a scientific theory.

Intelligent Design and Creationism are not scientific, nor are they theories. ID&C (which are one and the same in essence) are as much a science as alchemy is. An insubstantial attack on a well-tested theory does not implicitly deem the attack scientific. It does not even make it credible.

I hestitate to quote a comedian, but I think Bill Maher hit the nail right on the head Friday night when he said:

The reason there is no real debate is that Intelligent Design isn't real science. It's the equivalent of saying that the Thermos keeps hot things hot and cold things cold because it's a god... Stupidity isn't a form of knowing things..."Babies comes from storks" is not a competing school of thought in medical school. We shouldn't teach both; the media shouldn't equate both.

This should not become a war of beliefs, nor should this be a battle of religions. Whether you believe in science should not preclude you from finding comfort and peace in religion. However, the fact that 45% of this country chooses to ignore tested and established theories of Earth's age (4.5 billion years old) in favor of the Bible (which says Earth is less than 10,000 years old) frightens me dearly. We are rejecting testable knowledge in favor of a claim that has no proof. There is no proof.

With each generation, cultures amend their collective knowledge with a revised--and hopefully improved--set of facts and conclusions. Even the apparently immutable Catholic Church has changed its mind on positions. As scary and disturbing as it might be for some, science has helped generate new information that can lead to these position changes.

Over time, people have allowed the strongest explanations of our existence on this planet to drive our understanding of the universe. Now an emboldened few are trying to convince the vulnerable masses otherwise. And they are not supplying us with the second strongest theory, or the third strongest.

Instead, the so-called "alternative" they provide is untestable, unreliable, and truly unscientific. That so many are giving this movement its chance to destroy our education and our science is simply unbelievable.

Promoting My Friends

Here's a little shout out for two friends that have managed to make their way into the public eye in the last few weeks:

First, Ms. Mallory Stuchin. Mallory has proven her mettle writting about what the French refer to as "doin' it". Sorry, my mistake; the French actually call it "Le Doin' It."

Yes, it's about making sweet, sweet love. I'm not even talking Barry Manilow sex. I'm talkin' Barry White sex. In the laundry room. In a college dorm. Freshman year. Hopefully using a rubber. Cuz it's nasty in the laundry room.

No I mean it. It's really nasty down there, what with lint and detergent puddles everywhere. At least I think that's detergent...

I'm also a fan of the article because Mal's picture is from my birthday party. So like, if this article leads to book deals, fame, and fortune, well then I'm just saying I wouldn't be averse to being taken out for a nice dinner or given a Maserati or something.

Mallory, you're a real-life Carrie Bradshaw (with a better nose) and have shown true potential here. Keep up the good work. Friends tell me that they're more than willing to help in your research for future articles. On that note, allow me to deeply apologize to Blake, a dear friend and Mallory's older brother, who likely will want to kill me for putting his sister and sex in the same thought.

By the way, Mallory's 8-years-old.

(Sidebar: Mallory's not really 8-years-old. I was just trying to upset the prudes who frown upon sex with minors.)

The next person I'd like to call up to light a candle is my Poppy Murray-- no wait, he cut the challah. So, I guess instead, let's talk a bit about Ms. Risa Needleman.

Risa opened her first art gallery last Friday night, and it was stupendous. Presented by The Risa Needleman Gallery, it focuses on diverse works of contemporary Latin American art. There's really some interesting, beautiful work, so I recommend swinging by her show at 186 Orchard Street (at Shimna) before it ends on September 3rd. Risa will be the one napping on the couch when you walk in. Only disturb her if you plan on buying something.

Speaking Of Thrusting

When journalists queried Egoyan about the movie's possible ratings difficulties at a media luncheon at the Cannes Film Festival, the director said:

"I guess I'm naive. I really had no idea it would be a problem. I just heard the deciding factor could be thrusting. Apparently, anything over three thrusts and you're in trouble. Well, nobody told me. I didn't even do covering shots, so there's nothing I can cut away to. This is what you get."

Link

Everything Ends

Did anyone else watch the finale to Six Feet Under? That was a lot harder than I thought it would be...

Karl Rove is a Shitty Tipper

Oh man, have they got one nasty STD...

Until today, we could only assume the likes of Howard Stern, Karl Rove, and yes, lounge lizard Tom Jones were terrible with gratuities. We could also assume that they have small penises, but that's besides the point.

My friends, a new day is upon us. A day when we raise our arms in the air, put them back down, go on the Internet, and read BitterWaitress.com's "Shitty Tipper Database".

Search for family members!
Search for friends!
And before you make fun of those two groups, search for yourself and make sure you haven't been blacklisted.

According to these sultans of the service industry, even a 12% tip justifies some degree of vitriol! Though it's for the 4% and under crowd that they reserve the right to sprinkle a little jizz in your New England Clam Chowder.

Coming Soon: Ads on Your Forehead

Apparently New York "advertecture" is on the rise.

Many of us locals are pretty disappointed about the horrific crime recently commited against the Flatiron Building.

Well, it looks like this trend is spreading.

Sleeping on the Toilet

I'm waiting for a colleague to call me back. I've been waiting for the last 3 hrs. Every 45 minutes or so, he'll call, we'll talk for about a minute, and he'll need to jump off again. I get about a sentence in. Sentence and a half if I speak fast.

If it wasn't for this guy, I could have justifiably gone home at lunchtime. Today is the really light day between finishing one major 3-month-long project, and starting the next one tomorrow.

I want these hours of my life back. I could have been just as productive at home in my apartment... sleeping.

And yes, I realize I could have just gone to the men's room, sat down with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands and snoozed for a bit, but I didn't think of it in time. Ingenius idea? You're damn right it is. This is the greatest way ever to power nap for 10 minutes. If anyone asks why you were gone so long, blame a gastrointestinal infection. How can they question that? What can they say, "Prove it"?!

Uncomfortable with faking a GI condition? Blame the exotic cuisine that gave you food poisoning from dinner and kept you up all last night. Kills two birds: explains your short sabbatical from your desk AND justifies your tired, bloodshot eyes! Jackpot!

Not that I've ever done this or anything. It just seems like it would be a clever...(ahem)... nevermind.

All I know is that 3 hours and 27 minutes have passed, and I've been reduced to doodling pictures of the glass pyramid at The Louvre on a notepad I stole from the Toronto Hilton 3 months ago, and reading an article about why Americans love Ranch dressing. And I'm fascinated.

This, after one of life's great mysteries was finally answered for me: "When white doves are released during a special event, where do they go?" Pleasantly, I learned that if they're real doves, they likely are hit by a car or starve to death. If they're not real doves, they usually survive because companies will use white homing pigeons who return to their trainer after release.

So, the doves either die... or turn out to just be city rats with wings? Wow, that's not the most diappointing fact I've ever learned about anything. Ever.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think my GI problem is acting up again. I'll be back in 20...

The Pillowman

Until tonight, I didn't know you could make a comedy about killing children.

Okay, that's not entirely true, but now I have your attention. In a way, you can't make a comedy about child killers. However, The Pillowman, a Broadway play whose run ends this month, managed to do something pretty close. All the while, it managed to keep you laughing, yet it maintained this awful sense of dread of the inevitable. In fact, I really wouldn't go so far as to call it a comedy at all. Rather, it was more like a sharply bothersome drama wrapped in laugh-out loud hilarity. Did I mention how disturbing it was? Cuz it's that too.

The show starred Billy Crudup and Jeff Goldblum, among others. Crudup plays Katurian, a writer who is interrogated about the content of his work (such as children giving their fathers razor blade-filled apples to eat), and, more frighteningly, their similarity to child murders that are occurring in the same town. Goldblum and his partner interrogate both him and his challenged brother about the murders. That's where things get interesting.

I have yet to see anything, stage or screen, where Billy Crudup isn't fantastic. Tonight's performance has strengthed what I like to call my "Rules of Crudup" (or what used to be known as "You Have a Little Crudup on Your Sleeve"):

• Crudup is a great actor (see Almost Famous, Big Fish, or this play, for example)
• Crudup has great hair-- long, short, doesn't matter-- the guy's got a great mop

I also have a list I've compiled about things I've learned about Jeff Goldblum:

• Goldblum is a weird dude

Anyway, great play. Couple of stories:

First, during the curtain call, Goldblum gave a little speech about The Actors' Fund, and how it's important to recognize the contributions they make to actors and others. Clearly a serious speech. Mid-sentence, the curtain falls, Goldblum's eyes get wide with surprise, and everyone just stops clapping. People hang around for a few more seconds, realize the curtain is not coming back up, and everyone files out the door. And Goldblum never finished speaking! And no one seemed to mind!

Second, I ran into David Hyde Pierce in the lobby. I introduced myself and complimented him on his fantastic job in Spamalot! (which is hilarious). He thanked me, we left it at that, and one thing struck me as I walked away: For as put-together as he was in "Frasier" as Niles, he is that much of a schlub in real life. I mean, scraggly hair, wrinkled and untucked shirt. Just... wow.

By the way, as I am about to publish this post, I realize how poorly this follows my previous post about hypothetically kicking the crap out of children... because The Pillowman is about murdering children. Yeah, this might be in bad taste. Actually, the previous post was definitely in bad taste. Sorry, Mom.

Kicking the Crap Out of 5-Year-Olds

Let me preface this by saying a couple of things:

1. You are NOT too good a person to discuss this topic.
2. You are NOT too smart a person to discuss this topic; my office is mostly comprised of graduates from Penn, Princeton, and Harvard. We spent our entire lunchtime analyzing all of the different permutations of how this scenario could play out.
3. I do NOT advocate the assault of 5 year old children. This discussion is purely hypothetical, and will help you find your strengths, weaknesses, and most importantly, your boundaries.

Now, I feel like I lost you about the time that I said the words "assault of 5 year old children". So I'll stop here and just direct you to follow this link.

I can't lie, it's hilarious, provided you don't take yourself too seriously.

Here's 40+ pages of people discussing this very topic.

Planting Potatoes

I received this story in an e-mail a few months back. I rediscovered it while cleaning out my Inbox, and felt it was fairly amusing:

An old Jewish man lived alone in the country. He wanted to dig his potato garden but it was very hard work as the ground was hard. His only son, Saul, who used to help him, was in prison for Insider Trading and Stock Fraud. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Solly:
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
Love,
Papa

A few days later the old man received a letter from his son:

Dear Papa:
For heaven's sake Dad, don't dig up that garden, that's where I buried the money & stocks.
Love,
Your son, Solly

At 4 am the next morning, a team of FBI agents and local police arrived at the old man's house and dug up the entire garden area without finding any money or stocks. They apologized to the old man and left. The next day the old man received another letter from his son:

Dear Papa:
Now you can plant the potatoes. That's the best I could do for you
under the circumstances.
Love,
Your son, Solly

Moron of the Sea

Thanks to Arielle for finding this quote. It proves that not all parents fullful their obligation to lock the stupid kids in the basement until they're 40:

"Oh, no. I'm so totally blond. I don't think anyone would take me
seriously if I wasn't blond." -Jessica Simpson

Does she hear herself speak?

And who in the world lied to poor Jessica and told her she's being taken seriously??

"I never intentionally posted a blog entry. Period." -Rafael Palmeiro

"I never posted a blog entry. Period." -Rafael Palmeiro

TFW

My boss has a few favorite business acronym:

TFW - Totally Fucking Wrong

Fortunately, I haven't received this scarlett letter on any of my work. But still, it's harsh.

We were on a conference call a few days ago, and he just starts scrawling TFW all over the documents the client sent us. He throws the phone on mute and just starts repeating "Totally Fucking Wrong... this guy is Totally Fucking Wrong". Meanwhile the rest of us are rolling in our chairs. Just imagine the fallout if he didn't mute the phone the right way. That could have made for a great story.

He even started pulling Post-Its off the pad, scribbling TFW on a sheet and sticking it to the wall. It's 4 days later, that Post-It's still hanging on. Now I'm not even sure why he still has it up.

I guess terms like that are just par for the course in the office. Everyone's got their own consulting speak:

• If something elicits choices from customers, it's choiceful.
• When we implement something into a client's office, we're functionalizing it.
• Everyone loves McKinsey's term, MECE (sounds like mee-see), which means "mutually exclusive, collectively exhaustive"
• Everything needs to be QA'd or QC'd ASAP, and make sure you BCC it to the VP and the MD.

I guess perhaps it makes us all more efficient. Perhaps it saves a breath or two. Perhaps we can avoid 15 extra keystrokes when jotting down an email to the team. And perhaps we as business people are just better performers with all of these cocamamy terms to help us out each day.

Or perhaps we're just totally fucking wrong.

Sir Mix-A-Lot is rolling in his grave...Wait, is he dead?

A recent IM conversation between me and Blake:

Blake:

Target has rewritten Sir Mix-a-Lot's notorious 1992 hit, "Baby Got Back," and made it the centerpiece of its back-to-school ad campaign. Says a company spokesman, "There isn't anything particularly offensive about changing the meaning of the song from 'backside' to 'backpack' -- it's a short trip. No one is particularly offended along the way, maybe someone's mom won't like it, but offending mom has been a good way to sell the kids for a long time."

Me: what a great sound bite
Blake: i am horrified
Me: okay, what a "great" sound bite
Blake: there's got to be some kind of rule against taking dirty songs and making them family-friendly
Me: i've actually seen that commercial and thought to myself "really? this is where we're at now??"
Blake: what's next? Food Emporium remixing 2 Live Crew tracks to "Me So Hungry"?

This is why we're friends.

The Tale of a 6-Pound Burger

This is just so (sniff) beautiful...

Thinking on an Elevator

This ever happen to you: You enter an elevator with at least one other person, and press the button for your floor. Then you get that little thought.

Please don't pick a floor lower than mine.

Inevitably, if you even entertain that idea, they will DEFINITELY pick a floor that comes before yours. Oftentimes, they select the very first floor up, and you just want to grab that person by the throat and ask them why in the world they need an elevator to go up one floor?! ONE!

It elicits a very personal reaction too. I think I actually began to hate these people. Don't you sometimes start to believe they're doing this on purpose just to piss you off? Maybe they are.

There's just something so pleasing about a direct elevator ride to your floor. It's like catching all the green lights on the road, getting bumped up to 1st class for free on an airplane, or just having a really good BM.

Today, however, sucked. I live about halfway up my building, and six people entered with me. Mathematically, each one had an equal probability of picking a floor higher than mine or lower. 3 above, 3 below, I can deal with it. But then I got that little thought.

Turns out they all lived on different floors, and all below me. It's like ELEVATOR CONSTIPATION. The whole process is slowed, you become increasingly frustrated with each passing moment, and there's nothing you can do but simply wait it out until everyone unloads.

(I also may have been the first person to ever use and discuss the term "elevator constipation." Just saying.)

I'll tell you though, every time these neighbors of mine pushed a button, it was like a little man in my head would scream "GODDAMNIT!!!" and kick me the inside of my skull.

This is probably why I get nosebleeds.

Get Arrested

Annyong!

For all those who are already Arrested Development fans, rejoice.

For all of those who aren't, what the hell are you doing?

In case you missed all or some of the 2nd season (or you just need to see more of Tobias' balls, never-nude shorts, Gene Parmesan, GOB's magic, $5000 suits-- come on!!, a Lucille, a loose seal, Lucille drinking, rehab, Lucille 2, prosthetic hands, The Final Countdown, Ice the Bounty Hunter, the corn baller, promise rings, Girls With Low Self-Esteem, Abu Ghraib, wives with huge cans, tear-away pants, Sugarfoot, Spring Break--wooo!!!!, Motherboy XXX, Mrs. Featherbottom, 250cc's of George Sr., Les Cousines Dangereuse, and Franklin Comes Alive), I have good news! [And can you tell I'm excited?]

Fox is replaying the whole second season starting TOMORROW in weekly TWO-HOUR blocks to get you all caught up. That's right. From 8-10pm every Friday, you're gonna TiVo this bitch because it's too good to miss. Don't make a huge mistake and miss this.

This is all in anticipation of the new season beginning Monday, September 15th at 8pm (brand new time slot).

FOX should be paying me for this kinda promotion.

Oh, and you're welcome. That's in anticipation of you thanking me later.

Adios Hermano.

p.s. 29 A.D. references. I rule.

NBA Draft 2005

Went to the draft w/Blake & Brett today. I think this was Blake's 6th year in a row. This was the maiden voyage for the rest of us.

For me, the highlight came about 20 picks in. Things were really getting exciting, people were cheering, lights were flashing, and basically I got really excited and-- well, I think I ran up on stage, and everything was hazy and people were screaming, and it was just so exciting and...

I got drafted.

I'm not sure exactly how this happened.

I'm gonna need to move to Milwalkee now and start practicing before the season gets rolling. I don't think my family will be too happy either. I think I was supposed to attend a cousin's Bat Mitzvah, but I might have a night game.

Ignore me, I'm being ridiculous. It was a lot of fun, and now I'm going to bed.


NBA Draft 2005 at the Paramount Theater


Ready for Broadcast

Sunsets from 12 Stories Above The Street

I've started to try to appreciate the simpler things in life. I recently read an article about how the French can take 10 minutes to eat a single piece of chocolate. And while I'm not trying to mold myself into a cheese-eating, surrender monkey (kidding, I just really like that nickname), I think there's something to it.

However, as long as I'm talking about the French, here's a funny way to waste 20 seconds: Go to Google. Type "french military victories" and hit I'M FEELING LUCKY. Enjoy.

So as I was saying, I'm trying to pay more attention to my senses. I take my time with chocolate now too. Also, I've begun to... ah, well let's see. What else do I do? I know I do other stuff now. I eat choc-- no, already mentioned that chocolate thing. Well, there was this time that this girl and I-- no, that's not appropriate. Damn it, I thought there was more stuff. This is, well, this is slightly embarrassing now. I knew I wanted to lead with the chocolate example, but now that I'm here I just feel a need to keep typing thinking that a new idea would come to mind and clearly that's not happening so at this point I should probably change the subject in hopes that no one has noticed that my grammar punctuation and aversion to run-on sentences have regressed slightly and suddenly this more of a question of stamina than anything else and a contest that no one else besides me is playing called "Who Can Keep Typing Without Stopping Never Stop You Sonofabitch Never Fucking Stop" that tests nothing other than the apparent diarrhea of my brain and oh god someone please give me a reason to end this sentence with something interesting and surprising and entertaining and--

(The phone rings. I need to take this. A friend just invited me to North Carolina to see The Rolling Stones. Perfect, that'll do.)

So maybe all of that stuff I said before is merely a bad excuse to eat more chocolate. Especially dark chocolate.

[Moving on] Aside from justifying my own gluttony, I've found a great way to decompress on those days when I can escape from work at a decent time. Reading the newspaper on the roof of my building has really become one of the best parts of my day (at least on weekdays that don't rhyme with Fursday or Thriday). And while we're all going to ignore what that says about the remainder of my normal activities, it has become a nice unspoken pleasure. Hot girls in bikinis don't really hurt the situation either. But may I say something to these ladies for a moment? YOU CAN'T GET TAN WHEN THE SUN IS BELOW THE HORIZON! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING UP HERE?? HOW DID YOUR PARENTS NOT EAT YOU WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG?

When I think to do it, I bring my camera up there too, in hopes that the smog that collects in pollution-riddled wasteland called Jersey (named after small African bugs that eat garbage and human feces for survival-- look it up, I know you won't) can refract the low-angled sunlight in such a way as to color the sky for a pretty kick-ass sunset.

Fortunately, tonight was pretty decent:

Amber Dusk

Looking West

Too Close for Comfort

On Friday night, there was a shooting across the street from my building. Turns out some rappers and magazine execs were involved. Amazingly, no one actually died, even though the main "target" (if you can call someone that) was shot in the head. The guy's in critical condition.

From the way some of the witnesses told it to me, there should be at least one guy dead right now.

I'm not really sure how to feel about this. I guess in a city, things like this happen. In a big city, it happens even more.

When I got to the scene around 2:30am, the whole block was saturated with ambulances and squad cars. Police were searching up and down the block with flashlights looking for who knows what-- blood, weapons, bullet casings? Apparently two guys were even chased down the street before they were apprehended, and perhaps shot in the extremities to slow or stop them. When I showed up, the street was illuminated with flashing lights, casting an alternating blue or red glows onto the surrounding buildings. People who sleep with their blinds open were probably in for a real show if they were light sleepers.

By the time the sun came up, you'd have never known anything had happened. The yellow police tape had been cut down. Joggers swiftly strode along the sidewalks. The bar where the incident began was full the very next night. Young 20-somethings strolled up and down the street wearing J.Crew button downs, halter-tops, and expensive jeans, looking for the next party at which to look fabulous and drink too much expensive vodka that's been ruined by a Red Bull. Unwitting, attractive, white girls stood idly on the sidewalk chatting on their Motorola Razrs exactly where a young black man of a similar age was nearly murdered by a bullet lodged in his brain not 24 hours earlier.

For all I know, the bullet's still in his brain.

In a city this big, it's impossible to dwell on this. You can run though a "what-if" scenario for every person in this city, and still not be satisfied. What if I had been lazy and decided to just grab a beer across the street at the bar where the fight began? Hell, even a busboy was hit with 3 bullets!

What if I had decided to walk home on the north side of the street instead of the south side? And what if I had left my party 30 minutes earlier? What if a bullet managed to miss its intended mark and made its way down the sidewalk to other pedestrians? It becomes absurd.

Living in a city this big, if you're looking 5 minutes back, you're 10 minutes behind schedule.

So in spite of the London bombings, you have to ignore the what-ifs. Instead, you pack your bag, jump down to the subway and hope the random bag checks aren't going to inconvenience you long enough to miss the next train, and render you too late to read CNN.com at work before your boss shows up. That's about as much control as you have so what does worrying do?

Read the Metro section of The NY Times. New Yorkers know that an attack in this city isn't of question of "if". It's "when". And yet most people can't or won't change their behavior. It's too overwhelming. Can you blame them?

It's nearly impossible to predict where the next bomb will go off, or even when the next shooting is gonna go down. So what can I do? This weekend, I'm going to put on my J.Crew button down shirt and jeans, grab my Motorola cell phone, and enjoy myself. Provided the worst injury I suffer is a liver no worse for the wear, I'll consider myself fortunate.

I just hope that busboy's okay.

Still Running in Slo-Mo

Two days later, and I'm still furious at Hasselhoff. If I see that rat bastard again, it's on.

Hear that, Hasselhoff?

I SAID HEAR THAT, HASSELHOFF!?!?

Toilet Paper & Roller Coasters

Do you ball or fold your toilet paper?

Have you ever given thought to that before? Will you now? At least the next time you start to take some off the roll?

It's a simple question, and yet it begins to expose the very fabric of your existence on this planet. There's no in-between on this. People do one or the other, and I've never heard of switchers. Never.

This also conforms to my other theory on people: Either you really like roller coasters, or you don't. There is a very hard split among the populace. Even as you read this, you know exactly where you fall.

To clarify, this is not a question about whether you ever ride a roller coaster. This question is attitudinal, not behavioral. What I'm discussing is whether you really enjoy it, or really don't. One test is to ask yourself, "When the cars slow down as they approach the loading cabin for the coaster, am I relieved that it's over, or severely diappointed?" Again, hard split.

Few things in this world are as black and white as these two subjects. There's really no gray. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. And is probably a communist.

And in case you were wondering, I fold, and I love roller coasters. So, ah....now you know.

Running in Slo-Mo with No Shirt On

Location: Bloomingdales, Men's sunglasses department
Time: 2:05pm
Accomplices: Matt & Davey
Situation: David Hasselhoff, who looks really gay since he's been dying his hair a light brown, walked by me and bumped my shoulder as he passed. Never apologized. Big mistake, Hasselhoff. Big. Mistake.

I don't know what I'm gonna do. Here you are, 6'5" of tanned, 53-year-old meat who is so masculine that your CD's have gone #1 fifteen times in Germany (Who the hell goes #1 in Germany?? Kernkraft?). And here's me...ah...pissed because you bumped into me.

I'd say my odds are pretty good, my friend. Prit-tay, prit-tay, prit-tay good. I mean, if you didn't have the most awesome first name ever, I would have just ended you on the spot. But you bought yourself some time with that. Well played, Knight Rider. You're smart.

Anyway, watch your back, lifeguard. That's right, I'm looking right at you, big daddy. Mark this: you'll rue the day you crossed me. Or at least, you'll feel slightly remorseful. I hope.

I'm always ready, I won't let you out of my siiiiight (I'llllllll be reaaaaady..... I'llllll be reaaaady)

Oh, and if you see Brande Roderick, can you tell her I say "hi"? Thank you David.

Books No One Wants to Read

"...Moving from cashing in on fictional kidnappings, to cashing in on real ones, there's Ashley Smith. She's the woman who's heroism consisted of not dying when taken hostage by Altanta courthouse shooter, Brian Nichols.

"Her upcoming book will tell the story of how she's been inspired by Christian best-seller 'The Purpose Driven Life.'

"So... she's getting paid to write a book...about how she read another book?!?! That's not a book!

IT'S A BOOK REPORT!!

"Why don't I just shop around my manuscript about how much I enjoyed 'Where the Red Fern Grows'???"

-Lewis Black, BACK IN BLACK on The Daily Show

Actually Famous

Allow me to begin this appropriately: Brett Pearlman is the man.

I use the power of this blog very rarely, but when you're responsible for taking me to my very first movie premiere, then hell, you're getting a damn Hot97-style shout-out.

I just got home from the New York premiere of The Island, and let me say that this is a hell of a film. It's everything you'd expect from Michael Bay. He's the guy who did both Bad Boys films, The Rock, Armageddon, and Pearl Harbor. And The Island doesn't disappoint. Did I say "ridiculous"? Cuz it was ridiculous.

The night begins as expected: speeding through 30 blocks of traffic in 5 minutes to make it to the theater on time. God bless whoever programmed the traffic lights last night; it was scary how perfectly they changed. Okay, this isn't interesting at all.

Upon arriving at the theater, we walked down the red carpet, past the paparazzi, and enjoyed every minute of it. Quite an experience. We were at the Ziegfield Theater, and the most noticable part of the premiere experience is that when the movie begins, it simply begins. No trailers, no dancing popcorn. It's just-- lights down, movie starts. That alone is cool. It's also incredible how interactive the audience gets -- constant cheers and applause when anything big happens.

But then the movie ends, and on to Roseland Ballroom we go for the after-party. The whole place was done up like the movie. They've got models of adult-size human embryos surrounding the entrance and hall as you walk in, all of the waiters are wearing costumes from the movie, etc-- it's incredibly overwhelming. I even got to briefly chat with Steve Buchemi and Sean Bean (006 in the James Bond flick, GoldenEye). Both were enormously gracious, but while Buscemi appeared to be moving around constantly, Sean Bean actually appeared to want to chat. I even made him laugh when his date began to sniff the mashed potatoes at the buffet and I made a face at him to say "What in the world is she doing??" He actually laughed out loud. Needless to say, Sean Bean is my new favorite actor.

Meanwhile, Buscemi was drunk off his ass.

It's all so remarkably silly. Wanna stand next to Michael Clarke Duncan, just to see how big he really is? Sure. Steal the sign on Sean Bean's table, just cuz it's funny? Go ahead.

But where was Scarlett Johansson??? I know she came to the party, but we couldn't find her! And that almost ruined my night. Almost. Granted, it would have been the perfect beginning to a story of how we met, locked eyes, fell instantly in love, and lived happily ever after... but alas, no. Did I mention how drunk Steve Buscemi was? Did I mention how cool Djimon Hounsou was? Did I mention how badly I needed to pee? All true.

Now that you have my immediate reaction, I need to go to bed. But what a hell of a night, and I just needed to get that out. It's so easy to give in to the superficiality of it all (I'd be lying if I told you that most of the people weren't beautiful), but it's suprisingly easy to get caught up in it. After talking to Buscemi, I couldn't NOT smile, clink glasses with Brett, and acknowledge a mission accomplished. And for those who know me, I can't begin to explain how pissed I am that I didn't bring a camera. This entry would have been a whole lot more interesting with pics of me with Michael Clarke Duncan, Michael Bay, Steve Buscemi, Sean Bean, and some gigantic Italian guy that I definitely recognize from something but couldn't place at all.

Well, I'm giddy like a schoolgirl. I better cut this off now. Thanks for reading.

Oh, random things I forgot:

• Pauly Shore was there. Here's the weird part (though I guess just seeing him there is weird enough): When we walked into the theater lobby, there was only one celebrity being interviewed by the press. Pauly Shore.
• Two words: Open Bar
• Two more words: Mini Cheeseburgers...
• ...and cornbread
• Mickey Dolenz of "The Monkees" was there just hanging wearing a fedora

Almost Famous

What a day! I was out with the parents for dinner, and in the span of 30 minutes, I ran into two huge celebrities.

First, I dined next to Christine Ebersole. Yes, that Christine Ebersole.

After a celebrity sighting like that, I could barely walk! I just mean, wow. THE Christine Ebersole. Not only was she in Ghost Dad, My Girl 2, and Richie Rich, but she played the evil senator in Black Sheep. How can one woman be involved with so many classics??? It boggles the mind.

So like I said, I could barely walk. I managed to stumble about a block down the street, contemplating my existence and wondering if Christine Ebersole realizes how she's a semi-recognizable actress who gets that, "I think that person is famous, but I can't recall one thing she's ever done" look at restaurants. Who do I practically run over?

Mo Rocca.

I know, I know. How did I not go into sensory overload at that point? But I managed to keep it together long enough to say, "Hey you're Mo Rocca! You're the comedian who used to be funny on the Daily Show, and then was hired for Larry King Live during the Democratic and Republican conventions in 2004 and was about as amusing as syphilis." Well, except for the time he called the DNC an "Obamarama." That got a chuckle.

I admit it. That was harsh. In all fairness, he is funny on occasion and I'm just tired so I felt like ripping on the guy. In reality, I didn't say word one to him. But he does look fairly young (especially when he's wearing an old undershirt), so for the first couple of seconds I knew I recognized him, and considered whether we went to college together. So I made that "I recognize you but don't know your name so it's better we keep on walking" face and nodded my head, as if to say "What is up?" He looked at me and nodded back.

I was about to say hi, but quickly arrived at a startling realization: Mo Rocca is not my friend. Mo Rocca is Mo Rocca. So on I went, mildly surprised with how unexciting pseudo-celebrity encounters can really be.

A Few Bits of Random Crap

Coolest feat of strength I've ever seen.

Where the hell is this?

"You will soooo be glue soon!"

Hey kid, do you like muffins?

Perhaps you like to dance instead?

Finally, is this not the happiest music video ever?

Big ups to my brother for assisting in today's compilation.

On Cabs and Flatulence

After a crazy night on the town, I was taking a cab back to my apartment at around 2:30am.

Without warning, I farted. Loud. I mean, really loud. It's something about those upholstered seats...

I think I scared the crap out of the cab driver. He almost swerved out of his lane. I pretended to be asleep in the back seat.

The End.

Millionaire (Part Deux)

It's the night before my audition for "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?".

I've been staring at the screen for hours. They sent me an Audition Application that I need to complete and bring with me to the studio tomorrow, and all I've accomplished is managing to make myself feel supremely average right now. Let me show you the questions they ask for this application:

1. What would Meredith Vieira find most interesting about you?


2. What is the first thing you would do with one million dollars?


3. Complete this sentence – You’d never believe it but I…


4. I could be in the Guinness Book of World Records For?


5. What is it about you that the audience will find really compelling?


6. Anything else we should know about you?

Are they serious?? Unless you're an astonaut or the only male on the planet who's ever gotten pregnant, you're probably not that interesting. And now I'm forced to twist and turn every moderate truth about myself to appear worthy of televising. And if you didn't click on the Pregnant Man link at the beginning of this paragraph, you are missing out.

Granted, now that Millionaire has gone daytime, the bar is a lot lower. No offense, but you're sitting at home at 12:30 pm on a weekday watching TV. Are you really the arbiter of what's impressive?? The biggest issue of the day is whether to watch me answer trivia questions like a circus monkey dancing for peanuts, or tune in to "All My Children".

But let's get back to these hot-button questions. What in the world do you say for this stuff? I feel like if you're too sarcastic or funny (read: displaying personality) they won't even take you for the show.

For instance, I think Meredith Vieira would find me interesting because I have 4 nipples and once ate an entire box of tissues because they were making fun of me. Yeah, that's definitely "Millionaire" material. Somehow that might be too highbrow for the 12:30 viewers.

Right now all I think I've got on paper is a story about eating $20 worth of McDonalds, streaking up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art in nothing but my sneakers, and getting mistaken for Tiger Woods in Mexico... for about 5 seconds.

The worst part is that I always make fun of the people on game shows like Jeopardy! who have really lame facts and stories. Which begs the question: how in the world did Ken Jennings think of something new to say for 74 episodes straight?! He's a mormon computer programmer!

A MORMON COMPUTER PROGRAMMER CANNOT BE MORE INTERESTING THAN ME!!!

Why couldn't I have done something really cool in my life, like invent the Piano Key necktie?

Ugh... this is way too hard. Note to self for the future: Be more freakin' interesting.

Oh, and eat fewer carbs.

Bush Photo of the Week

I found out soon after that this picture was photoshopped. Red the Drunk was actually about a foot further away (though not entirely respecting Dubya's personal space), and Blowjob McGee was actually standing face-to-face w/Bushy, handling his tie and not his wang.

Too bad. Fake or not, this still made me chuckle.

Oh, you want to see the original? Well, if you must... I guess it's only fair in the name of honest journalism:

Now with Lime!

When did soda companies decide that we now all want lime in our drinks?

I just tried Coca-Cola with Lime. It's not that great. It's not even much different than normal Coke. It just has a slightly more citrus-y after-taste. And a green plastic cap. With no sweepstakes underneath. Bastards.

First they put cherry in. Fine. Good. I think we're all okay with that, even if it is just repackaged Dr. Pepper after all.

Then they added vanilla. Alright...kind of out of the blue, but still tasty. Look, I had one friend growing up who actually asked for vanilla in his Coke. Only the nice restaurants would even do it. This wasn't bursting with mass-market appeal. Nowadays, half the stores don't even carry it. Hiring Chazz Palminteri as your spokesperson couldn't have helped. I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

Maybe Coke is just starting a conspiracy to monopolize every button on a vending machine. Now, instead of Coke, Sprite, Ginger Ale, and 4 varieties of Shasta that NOBODY EVER DRINKS, Coke feels the need to dominate every option.

I just took another swig of the bottle-- I didn't even taste lime that time. I think this whole thing is a psychological scam to sell more crap we never asked for.

At what point do the people rise as one to slay this monster before it does too much damage. Did we learn nothing from New Coke? You don't mess with the recipe. Now what does Coke do 25 years later? They mess with the recipe! Where does this stop?

Coke...with two scoops of raisins! Coke with BBQ sauce! Coke with Coke -- it's twice the Coke, in half the space!

Maybe they could appeal to the alcoholic demographic, since it's clear that the addition of lime juice is really a poor man's Coca-Cola Gimlet: Coke & Tonic, Coke w/Onions, Coke and Orange Juice (mmm...a coke screwdriver-- whatdya think that tastes like? If you said "ass", you would be correct). Or just give the people what they really want: Coke and Moonshine. Let's not half-ass this. If you want to add something to Coke, why not something that could make you go blind if you consume too much.

While we're on the topic, a green cap should only stand for one thing: Absinthe. There ya go, that's how you sell more cans. Two words: alleged hallucinogen.

Man, I'm just so full of good ideas...

Ed. Note: After re-reading all of this, I’m starting to think I need to reduce my intake of caffeinated beverages.

Did Something Go Bad?

Can someone explain how it is that my roommate and I mop the floors, dust the counters, clean the dishes, shine the mirrors, vacuum the carpets, and wash the sheets...

...yet the apartment smells like old food and the trash compactor room smells like vanilla & flowers?

Batman Watches Me Through My Window

A few weeks ago, to promote the release of Batman Begins, some ad agency put up a city-block-long billboard up across the street from my apartment. It's gigantic. Literally, it stretches across an entire city block:

View of the Block

Besides the fact that it destroys our view and prevents me from seeing if anyone is working in the offices across the street (which determines whether I should close my blinds while I do naked yoga), the fact is that there's a huge Batman head looking in my window. It's chilling.

Skeptical? Imagine this: there you are working on your computer, spending a perfectly nice evening shopping on Amazon.com for the latest Ben Folds CD and perhaps a new spatula, when-- HOLY SCARY PEEPING TOM! BATMAN IS LOOKING THROUGH MY FUCKING WINDOW!!!

This is chilling...

It's not funny. Granted, you get used to the billboard's intrusive presence. But around dusk things get darker, and your pupils begin to dilate thus narrowing your peripheral vision (and the level of detail in what you still can see). And there's still that brief moment between first seeing the silhouette of a head looking in your window and recognizing that it's just a picture of Christian Bale.

And I'll be damned if that brief moment doesn't cause me to soil myself.

Sometimes I want to sneak over there and spray paint the whole billboard black, but the sense of irony that Batman's presence forced me into a life of crime is so overwhelming that I return to searching for the elusive spatula on Amazon.

Blast you, Batman! You'll rue the day you crossed me! Muah ha ha ha!!! MUAH HA HA HA!!!!

Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

To anticipate the publication of my 101 List (stay tuned for that, it's gonna be awesome), I've decided to try to tackle a major item:

Try Out for a Game Show

Well, I submitted an application a couple of days ago to the hit show, "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?", and sure enough, today I got an email from the show telling me that I've qualified for an audition. This by no means guarantees that I'll be on the show. Not even close.

What this does mean is that sometime in June I'll be visiting their offices for a written test and an interview. That is the audition. Should I pass their tests, then I'm "on call".

To actually get on TV and play (come on, best Regis voice you've got:) "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?!", the following needs to happen, in this order:

• I need to pass my audition
• They need to call me
• I need to be available for the day they specify
• I cannot be hit (hard) by a car on the way to the studio, thus incapacitating me or disfiguring me into something too ugly for TV
• They need to select me for the group of contestants
• I need to play "Fastest Finger"
• I need to win "Fastest Finger"
• I need to stay conscious long enough to walk to "The Hot Seat"
• I need to stay conscious while in "The Hot Seat"
• I need to NOT vomit on Regis because I'm so excited

So, pending completion of this list, and assuming no acts of God hit Manhattan a la The Day After Tomorrow until after this is all over, we'll see what happens. I can't get too crazy yet.

But I'm gonna do this. And yes, that's my final answer.

Working at 1.21 Gigawatts!

Great Scott!

Is it weird that I just typed "$1885" into a PowerPoint deck and my mind immediately thought of Back to the Future III?

"It's from the Doc!! He's alive!! The Doc's ALIVE!!"

Get Thee To a CD Store

This is a very simple command: Buy the Marc Broussard CD. It's called Carencro.

"Best CD of 2005!" -me

Rarely have I found an album so consistently strong across every track. I had first heard "Come Around" through iTunes' "Free Song of the Week", and after listening to it for the 50th time in a row, I decided to see if the rest of his music was as amazing.

Yes, it is.

Every song stays with you (Home, Rocksteady, Lonely Night in Georgia). The album is incredibly eclectic, which further adds to its charm. When was the last time you heard me give such a resounding endorsement for a CD?

I think I should be getting a kickback from Marc or his label for this kind of promotion. Do you know how hard it is to sign me for endorsement deals???

The album's like $9.99 at Best Buy or something ridiculously cheap. And oh, I just checked, and it's $9.98 on Amazon! Hot damn!

If that doesn't sell you, how's this-- I gave a copy to my cousin Jaime and she loves it too. There, now I know you're sold. So don't be a communist, buy this CD. You'll thank me later.

Dancing the Fallujah Jig

Two weekends ago I was down in Washington D.C. for my cousin's wedding. It was lovely, thanks for asking.

Jews in a church, a remarkably disproportionate number of attendees who were taller than 6'6", what's not to like?? It was like "Keeping the Faith" meets the NBA, but with less Ben Stiller-like schlubiness and more college degrees.

The best part occurred about halfway through the reception, as my uncle and I stood just off of the dance floor. We were talking about nothing, when out of nowhere, my uncle perks up, points towards the crowd and declares:

"You know this is a great party-- Hans Blix is getting down!!"

And no joke, there Blixxy was, bustin' loose to the oldies. It made my month.

The Cold on a Warm Day

My sinuses have been taken hostage. I'm in the process of negotiating a release in exchange for some DayQuil. Prospects look grim.

I tried stopping at Whole Foods for some cold medicine. They didn't have any brand name stuff. The only thing resembling a "Quil" was something green called "Umcka" Cold Care. I really like this product. Not because it has a higher alcohol content than normal cold medicine, and not because it's completely useless in actually relieving symptoms.

It's the name.

Think about it: an entire line of pharmaceuticals named after a sound you make when you've got that affliction! You can't tell me you don't make a sound like "UMCKA!" when clearing the phlegm from your throat.

Think about the possibilities:

• An antacid called "Burrp"
• A laxative called "Pfthpt"
• An erectile dysfunction drug called "I...ah...(sigh)...I'm sorry, I just...no, no, I love you...this is my fault...of course you look beautiful...no, Honey, I don't know why I bought the herbal alternative... yes, yes, I'll definitely buy the brand name one next time...oh wait Honey I think it's bac-- no, never mind, false alarm...yes, I suppose you can just go to sleep now, this just isn't happening...(sigh)..."

All coming soon from Nature's Way.

Time to return to work and not breathing.

The Bluth Family Lives!

Brett Pearlman just made my week.

As some of you know, I'm a giant Arrested Development fan. As some of those people know, I've been fanatically hoping that FOX would reverse their plan to not renew A.D., effectively canceling it like Jack & Bobby (bet you haven't heard that one was cancelled, huh?). Kinda reminds me of Family Guy's first episode this season:

Peter: "Everybody I've got bad news. We've been cancelled."
Lois: "Oh no Peter! How could they do that?"
Peter: "Well unfortunately Lois, there's just no more room on the schedule. We just gotta accept the fact that FOX has to make room for terrific shows like Dark Angel, Titus, Undeclared, Action, That 80's Show, Wonder Falls, Fast Lane, Andy Richter Controls The Universe, Skin, Girl's Club, Cracking Up, The Pitts, Firefly, Get Real, Freaky Links, Wanda At Large, Costello, The Lone Gunman, A Minute with Stan Hooper, Normal Ohio, Pasadena, Harsh Realm, Keen Eddy, The Street, American Embassy, Cedric The Entertainer, The Tick, Louie, And Greg The Bunny...."
Lois: "Is there no hope?"
Peter: "Well I suppose if ALL those shows go down the tubes we might have a shot."

Well folks, I speak to you reinvigorated: Arrested Development is coming back!!! There is a heartbeat. There is no flatline. And there may be twins. Just look:

http://www.eonline.com/Gossip/Kristin/Archive2005/050513.html.com/

Holy crap, I'm so full of joy right now.

That's right-- FOX is not only signing the contracts to have A.D. come back for another full 22-episode season, but they're doing it twice-- TWO seasons, 44 episodes, new time slot, and guaranteeing syndication and a few more DVD boxed sets. I'm bursting, Jerry! I'm bursting!

I'm gonna fall asleep with a smile on my face tonight. An A.D. party at my place is a possibility. So is doing G.O.B.'s chicken dance for hours on end. Stay tuned...

Triskaidekaphobia

Word of the Day for Friday May 13, 2005

triskaidekaphobia \tris-ky-dek-uh-FOH-bee-uh\, noun:
A morbid fear of the number 13 or the date Friday the 13th.

Thirteen people, pledged to eliminate triskaidekaphobia, fear of the number 13, today tried to reassure American sufferers by renting a 13 ft plot of land in Brooklyn for 13 cents . . . a month.--Daily Telegraph, January 14, 1967

Past disasters linked to the number 13 hardly help triskaidekaphobics overcome their affliction. The most famous is the Apollo 13 mission, launched on April 11, 1970 (the sum of 4, 11 and 70 equals 85 - which when added together comes to 13), from Pad 39 (three times 13) at 13:13 local time, and struck by an explosion on April 13.

--"It's just bad luck that the 13th is so often a Friday," Electronic Telegraph, September 8, 1996

Some famous triskaidekaphobes:
Napoleon
Herbert Hoover
Mark Twain
Richard Wagner
Franklin Roosevelt

There are many theories about the origin of triskaidekaphobia. In medieval Christian countries the number 13 came to be considered unlucky because there were 13 persons at the Last Supper of Christ. Fridays are also unlucky, because the Crucifixion was on a Friday. Hence a Friday falling on the thirteenth day would be regarded as especially unlucky.

Triskaidekaphobia is a fairly new word (first found in print in 1911) formed from Greek treiskaideka, triskaideka, "thirteen" (treis, "three" + kai, "and" + deka, "ten") + phobos, "fear." The adjective form is triskaidekaphobic. One who fears the number 13 is a triskaidekaphobe or triskaidekaphobic.

Um, it's a belt?

It's described at the most technically advanced piece of clothing since Hypercolor t-shirts. And that's saying a lot:

http://www.scrollingbuckle.com/

Be the hit of the party at your next Star Trek convention!! Make sure you watch the movie on the website of the text scrolling. My cousin says that if this becomes a real NY fashion trend, he's moving out of the city.

POLL (of anyone who reads this):
What is the best thing this belt could say? Feel free to describe both the message, and perhaps the scene it would be funniest.

For instance, imagine your physician's surprise when he walks into your examining room, only to find you sitting there buck naked with this belt on that reads, "No, YOU cough." Hilarity will ensue, or your $29.99 back.

Less Than Star Struck in an Elevator

So I think Adam Mesh lives in my building. Yes, that Adam Mesh, who was famous for a couple of days during his stint on TV where he played two characters:

First, on Average Joe, he played the part of the homely everyman competing for the heart of a beautiful woman who surprised America by choosing a hunk instead.

Then he decided he wanted to show his range as a TV icon, so he became the center of attention on Average Joe 3: Adam Returns, a homely everyman surrounded by fans that are only there because now he's famous. From this group of all-stars, he will chose the love of his life from this artificial environment filled with women performing artificial displays of affection by rubbing their artificial bodies all over him as they hope to score some very real cash.

Hmm, let's see. You just get burned on national television because someone managed to sell NBC on the idea that they could make a show about how, when given the choice, hot women will hook up with hot men. Wow! And now what do you do for an encore? You do it again to other sweet, young women! How does any contestant for Average Joe NOT SEE THIS COMING?! This will not end well for anyone.

If you happen to know the executive who greenlighted this show, please give him my number. I have a great idea for a new show called, "They'll Watch Anything." Every episode, I'll try to sell major sponsors and the mindless masses on the idea that their social preconceptions are completely wrong. The season will end with the most predictable ending possible, and will reinforce every social stereotype imaginable. But the sponsors and masses will be sooo surprised! The credits will begin to roll, and the show will close on a video of me rolling in the money I just made from all of those who stayed with it all season long to see what happens.

In all honesty, I really didn't watch the show. More importantly, that was all one giant tangent.

Basically, Adam walked into my elevator this evening as I got home from work. He hit the button for his floor, and thus began our journey up in the elevator with another girl who was also going up. So there I am, thinking, "Oh, he gained a couple of pounds." I was also thinking, "Didn't he go to college with me? Or was that his sister? Or did they both go? Should I say hi, because if we did go to the same school, then that would be a nice thing to do. Not because he was on TV-- I mean, I'd say the same thing to a stranger with a Penn sweatshirt on. Then again, he'd think I was just talking to him because he was on TV. What do I say to that? 'Actually I think your show was dumb and I could care less about it; in fact I lost respect for NBC for even making it.' No, I couldn't say that, it would be mean and inappropriate, and I don't want to be either. I'm just tired and want to sleep, so now I don't even care about saying hello, I just want a quick dinner and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Well, maybe I should still say hello. Hey, we might even have some friends in commo--"

The doors opened, and he walked out and turned left, while I walked out and turned right. Down the hall I went, turned left ("I should have said hello"), walked down the next hall, took my keys out, got to my door, looked up, and!!!.....

I got off on the wrong floor.

I'm embarrassed.

Hi Mom

Happy Mother's Day.

Love,
Your Son

A Day Not So Common

Well, today is May 5th, 2005. Cinqo de Mayo. In English, that roughly translates to "sink of mayonaise."

The interesting this about today is that, at 5:05:05 AM/PM, the time will be 05:05:05 05/05/05...

As you might guess, 05/05/05 only comes once in 1,000 years. However, when that date coincides with Thursday (the 5th day of the week), then this spectacular coincidence only comes around once in 7,000 years. That's kinda awesome. Yeah, a little lame and a lot dorky, but awesome still.

Peeing in a Phone Booth

As you can see, many of these posts are just little anecdotes. This post will be no different.
Here's a story from my upstanding, law-abiding friend, Matt. This is how he tells it...more or less:

It was just after graduation this past summer, in Avalon, NJ. The bars closed at 2am, and my buddy Glaz was taking a piss in a phone booth while pretending to be talking on the phone. I needed to piss too, so I took up a position to his left and commenced urinating as well.

Soon after I began pissing on the floor of the phone booth (and a little bit on the walls), cops on bicycles pull up to our booths. Glaz quickly says goodbye, hangs up the phone as if he just got off a call, and begins to back away. I, on the other hand, was blatantly standing there peeing, so the cops ask me what I'm doing. I'm clearly pissing, but decide now would be a good time to pick up the phone. That seemed like a smart idea.

So the cops keep asking me what I was doing, and I say, "Nothing." Now they're giving me a hard time for lying to them, which in my drunkeness, I find ridiculous. And I tell them so.

Then they start telling me that if I give them a hard time, I'll be taken downtown. I guess I scoffed or laughed or something, because they asked me what i thought was funny about this.

I asked how exactly they were going to take me downtown...they're BIKE COPS!

I then suggested that I could ride on the handlebars, at which point they handed me the $150 ticket. Damn it.

And that's why I don't pee in phone booths...often.

George Carlin, on Feminist Language

"When it comes to changing the language, I think [feminists] make some good points, because we do think in language and so the quality of our thoughts and ideas could only be as good as the quality of our language. So maybe some of this patriarchal shit ought to go away.

I think spokesman ought to be spokesperson. I think chairman ought to be chairperson. I think mankind ought to be human kind.

But they take it too far, they take themselves too seriously, they exaggerate.

They want me to call that thing in the street a personhole cover. I think that's taking it a little bit too far. What would you call a lady's man, a person's person? That would make a He-man an It-person. Little kids would be afraid of the boogieperson. They'd look up in the sky and see the person in the moon. Guys would say come back here and fight like a person. And we'd all sing "For It's a Jolly Good Person." That's the kind of thing you would hear on Late Night with David Letterperson!"
-George Carlin, Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics

The True New Yorker

The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding. -John Updike

Atkins on Judaism

You know what would be ironical? If Dr. Atkins ate bread for Passover.

From "the Onion" Headlines Dept.

A few great headlines from this week's "The Onion":

1. Heaven Less Opulent Than Vatican, Reports Disappointed Pope


2. Pope John Paul II, Longtime Owner of Popemobile, Dead At 84


3. Aw, Who'm I Kidding... I'll Never Top 21 Jump Street
   by Johnny Depp


4. Report: Cost of Living Now Outweighs Benefits
   

   "This is sobering news," said study director Jack Farness. "For the first time, we have statistical evidence of what we've suspected for the past 40 years: Life really isn't worth living."



5. Inside: Spring Fashions So Glamorous You'll Practically Shit Yourself


6. Finally, here's one of the best Onion articles ever (this one's not from this week). Read this, if only for the two headlines: Point-Counterpoint: Nigeria

Shabeena-Related Quotables

Shabeena: "My stupid computer is doing this thing... (describes computer problem)"
Colleague proceeds to literally punch the computer until the problem stops
Colleague: "You see: Fixing computers is a lot like raising kids. Punch them enough and they do what you want."
The things people say for shock value...

This next exchange was relayed to me by Shabeena, who happens to hold the same position in the company as Matt:
Matt: "It's my third day here. Who exactly do I report to?"
Shabeena: "Me, bitch."

Never Underestimate The Sneakiness, Sir

I work fairly closely with a guy named Dan, who has a habit of leaving his wallet on his desk. Today it fell, and upon picking it up, I noticed that besides his assorted credit cards and such there was just a single $20 bill. He had quickly run to the bathroom at the time, so I replaced the wallet to its place on his desk and walked away.

Two hours later, I stopped by, and in mid-conversation made an off-handed comment that I have this trick where I can guess the amount of money in someone's wallet merely by weighing it.

Incredulously, he hands me his wallet. I held it in my right hand, bouncing it up and down. I switched it to my left hand. Then back to the right hand. Then in both hands.

This ritual went on for about 20-30 seconds, and as I gave the wallet back to Dan, I confidently announce, "Twenty dollars!" Dan hesitated. He knew I was right, and he was clearly not prepared for such a low-ball guess. Then he shit himself.

Stuttering and stammering, he begged me to tell him how I just did that. I told him it's something I've been able to do all my life, just like Alex P. Keaton can hear the sound of change hitting the floor and can tell you what the coins are. This cracked Dan up, and thus achieved my goal of distracting him with my clever wit long enough for him to forget about how I just tricked him.

But this is why I like Dan. He got the reference immediately.

Here's some other interesting trivia about the hit series, Family Ties, thanks to IMDB:

• It was never revealed what the "P." in Alex P. Keaton stood for.


• Michael J. Fox added the "P." in Alex P. Keaton as an ad-lib in his audition, the writers loved it and kept it. Michael J. Fox almost didn't get the role of Alex - due to the fact that NBC exec Brandon Tartikoff didn't find it believable that Meredith Baxter Birney and Michael Gross would have a son that was so short.


• According to Michael J. Fox's last "Spin City" (1996) episode, Alex P. Keaton became a Junior Congressman from Ohio.


• One year before playing Michael J. Fox's father in Back to the Future, Crispin Glover played Alex P. Keaton's friend in the episode Birthday Boy.


• Tom Hanks played Elise Keaton's brother Ned.


• Throughout the series' run, exterior establishment shots of the Keaton home were never used in any of the episodes, which is very unusual for a family sitcom. The vast majority of all scenes were played out in the kitchen.


• The cast wanted to end the show with the entire Keaton family dying in a plane crash. They absolutely didn't want to do a reunion show in the future.

I miss the 80's...

I'm Stuck in Rehab with Pat O'Brien

Maybe this is only 15 minutes of fame for "Adam" at an "Undisclosed" rehabilitation center, but this is seriously funny stuff.

Plus, after hearing Pat O'Brien's voicemails, I guess he was kinda asking for it.

They're transubstantialiscious, baby!

Dick Vitale's Popapalooza 2005

What's better about this bracket?
a) That they actually have a Pope bracket
b) That it's sponsored by the new low-carb communion wafers called "I Can't Believe It's Not Jesus!"
c) The fact that DUKE is in the bracket as a 4 seed

Amazing.

Aaron Sorkin is a Genius (Part 1)

And now for one of the best movie monologues of the modern day ("Bob's problem isn't that he doesn't get it. Bob's problem is that he can't sell it!"):
The American President - President Shepherd's Address to the Press

Women in Heat

As we all know, females across many species have a period where they are known to be "in heat." Women specifically are more attracted to androstenone (a pheromone), symmetrical and masculine faces, and more attracted to the subject of sex.

Here's where it's funny:

The word for heat, Estrus, comes from a Greek word 'oistrus'
which means Gadfly. Literally, it means 'in a frenzied state' because when the gadflies would buzz around cattle, they would drive the cattle into a frenzied state which resembled the same state they go into when they wanted to mate.

So basically, when scientists refer to a woman in heat, they're comparing them to cows. Ha.
(Thanks to the-vu.com and Oxford Journals for that fun fact)

Liberal Radio Commercials

Air America needs a better variety of commercials. I heard the same ad for The West Wing DVD boxed set 4 times in 23 minutes. At the very least, they should have an ad for the "Tom DeLay Impeachment Fund" or something...

I guess it's to their credit that they really know their listeners! You don't exactly hear them hawking the 1st Season DVD set of The O'Reilly Factor.