Intermission

While I want to bring you Part III this evening, I am slowly but surely losing steam so instead, I figured that I would bring to you my commentary on a commercial that I have seen lately and thought about during my second screening of Harold and Kumar.

The commercial is the one where the grandmother is sitting by herself in her kitchen waiting for either dinner or maybe she is waiting to be taken to the hospital to die... anway, she is clearly waiting for something... And the voice over says something to the affect of "Don't worry just tell your grandmother that you were smoking pot or getting high instead of coming over for dinner..." (for the record that is the worst paraphrase ever.)

Anyway, the gist of this PSA is that this imaginary grandchild has placed smoking weed over and above spending time with the living dead, i mean grandma. And that this has caused something horrible to happen to her. Now instead of just assuming that this was the craziest commercial ever, I actually did a quick google search on this before I started to write this entry and not surprisingly the stoners of the world, which at various points in my life, I have been a card carrying member, have commented on this commercial in only the detail that weed can invoke.

Now although many were funny, my favorite had to be the one that questioned the actually reality of this commercial in that there is not a stoner on the earth who faced with the possibility of a full on meal from grandma as the commercial depicts would have missed this meal. Instead, they would have smoked up and then headed over to grandma's house to eat the shit out of that meal. Trust me on this one, I have done it... I mean I know someone that did... But truly, this is exactly how I felt about this commercial because either the kid smoking the sticky icky would have been there chowing down, or he never would have scheduled dinner with grandma in the middle of a school week. (For those that do not know, high school kids would only schedule this meal for a Sunday afternoon.)

And in reality, is this what pot leads to, I mean from what I can recall and it is not much, I usually spend most of the times that I have smoked pot sitting on a couch playing video games, and sure I might have forgotten some plans but those plans were expendible. And really what affect does missing dinner have on grandma, I mean are we supposed to make the leap that once you fail to appear that grandma torches her house and then heads out and murders the entire town of Grandma? Well, I did a search for that story and surprisingly, I just ended up on IMDB reading over 100 reviews of B horror films that were all made in Kansas.

So I guess until the point comes when grandma ends up going on that statewide killing spree due to the bastard grandkid smoking a joint, we can all ignore this commercial. And maybe those that made it, can focus on how if you are on a high school budget with a weed problem that pretty much is all the money you have or how the walk from your couch to the kitchen when stoned is actually the pot world equivalent of running a marathon.

Sorry grandma.

Sheepshead Bay II: Stranger in a Strange Land

So to continue my tale of woe, I rode the Q into the deepest and darkest parts of Brooklyn. I was told that where I was going I would be some where near Coney Island, which basically meant that in terms of my knowledge about Brooklyn, I would be somewhere between the middle and FUCKEN NO WHERE. I do know that on my way, I went over the Manhattan Bridge, which is otherwise known as the Bridge I have never used. During this voyage, I believe I went through some parts of Brooklyn where I easily could have found a convenient way to get shot by just getting off the train and being white. (I am not being racist as that was not the intention of that comment, there are just places in Brooklyn where it is very easy for your ass to get SMOKED.)

Interesting note: most of my trip was on a subway car that was above ground. Now, I am not sure how most people feel about this but to me, it is always weird when I am on a subway ca above ground. I mean I love it, but for some reason, I feel like I have done something wrong or am somehow betraying my fellow man because instead of smelling urine and sitting in darkness, I am actually smelling urine but the sun is shining in. It fucks with a person I guess.

Anyway, I finally arrived in the Bay after a good half an hour on the train and found myself in Brooklyn's own Russian enclave. I mean everywhere I turned there were signs in Russian and the name Vladimir was the only name that appeared on any of the Real Estate signs. But yet no signs of either sheep or their heads. Surprisingly, I had a pleasant walk from the subway station to the location of my deposition albeit 20 minutes. Apparently the MTA feels that since this is the land that time and the thawing of the Cold War forgot, only one train within a thirty minute walking distance is sufficient. Of course this is the same MTA that thinks that suspending trains during the Holiday Season on the weekends nonetheless is easily justified especially when it is the only train that gets me and people like me from Brooklyn into Manhattan and vice versa...I love them guys....Thankfully, the only thing that saved me from turning around, going back to the office, and savagely beating my boss who sent me out into Siberia was the Dunkin Donuts that I found located right next to the location of the deposition. And one extra large Hazelnut Coffee black, I was a happy little camper...

And even though, I will be posting the next part of this saga in just a bit (read: years, it could be years).... I end El Douce right here...

Promises Promises

I apologize for not getting a part two out for my story, but I am off to catch a train to Hartford, CT. There I will be watching my schools of higher learning, UConn and Rutgers, face off in a football game for the ages. As such, I will finish the story on Sunday.

I am off like a prom dress.

SHEEPSHEAD BAY IN THE HOUSE(Part I)

So this AM, I woke at 8:15 in order to prepare for my great adventure to the Sheepshead Bay area of Brooklyn or Eastern Long Island as they probably call it out there. In order to achieve my goal and after performing my morning ritual of OCD like tendencies. (is the coffee pot off, did I turn the space heater off [shit it's summer], what about the AC, all of which are performed because I firmly believe that I will somehow cause my entire house to ignite in some blazing inferno of Hell), I entered the NYC underground in order to make my journey to this morning's deposition. If you recall from this morning's post, I was going to be part of a deposition where our retired custodian was going to kill my chances of winning as his final FUCK YOU to the City of New York and the Board of Education. And the reason it was at his house and that I was not defending him is that since he was retired, we no longer were his employer and thus, plaintiff could subpoena him at any time in order for us to lose our attorney-client privilege.... as such, he was basically a hostile witness scratch that, he was a hostile witness.

Anyway in order to get to his place, I had to take the L train into the City to Union Square and then head back into Brooklyn over the Manhattan Bridge on the Q train. The estimated time from stophop.com or whatever the hell it is called was an hour and half, which made me extra special happy at 1 AM this morning.

So I finally left my house at 8:50 AM to get to this place by 10. I knew that I was probably cutting it close or would be late but I always think those trip planners are plus or minus an hour on their estimated time predictions. Plus, the sheet said I was only in reality traveling 8.9 miles.

Needless to say, I made it to Union Square by 8 and even successfully transferred to the Q... which is where I leave this entry for now...

I have to get to a Deathcab for Cutie concert.... and yes, I am Seth Cohen.

It's Like That

And that's the way it is...

I hate alot of things in life. I hate how I have to head to Sheepshead Bay tomorrow in the AM for a deposition of some guy who is basically going to house the case I am going to try to defend at some point during trial... and I hate how I am never going to meet someone who actually will appreciate what the fuck is going on in my head.. I mean for CHRIST'S SAKE, I am a mother fucken genius....

But really for the last year, one of the things that I have hated on almost a daily basis is the St. Louis Cardinals who since losing to the Red Sox last year have been bitching to everyone including Tony LaRussa's mom about how they would have beat my boyz if they had a healthy pitching staff. (REALLY?) Finally tonight, I have news for those Bud swigging ass fuckers.... YOU'RE TEAM CANNOT WIN WHEN IT MATTERS... I mean you just lost to the Astros and last year you got swept... meaning that there is no World Series title until atleast 2006... and yet, each year, you were the team to WIN IT ALL... So Cardinals' fans have another Bud or whatever beer company is based there and built their mansion on the plant to achieve tax exemption, and wait till next year....

Oh and enjoy when they blow your stadium up this year... I am really sad you could not bring the title home... and by really sad, I mean eat my ass... LOSERS...

Official New Yorker

Well it's official, on October 6, 2005, I went into Manhattan to the DMV Express or whatever it is called near Madison Square Garden to obtain my official New York State Driver's License.
It was a sad day because I knew that by the end of my trip to the DMV, I would no longer possess a Connecticut State Driver's License, which I have held in different versions since I was 16 years old. Now to some, it may seem a bit odd to lament about the turning over of a license, and all of the other events of my life in the last nine years.

Now originally, I had intended to make this voyage into the Big City early in the morning of the day after my birthday. However, I soon realized after I woke massively hungover and with a very puffy face that the trip was probably best taken at some point in the afternoon so that I did not look like I had just been released from Central Booking. Anyway, I finally made my way over there around 2:30 in the afternoon still a little groggy but figuring that any sense of numbness I was experiencing would simply serve to lessen the pain that I would experience once I turned over my old friend.

Now, even though most DMV stories are true tales of woe that involve long lines, the loss of hours off of one's life, and much cursing, my experience was relatively painless probably because I was there on a Thursday during the middle of the day. Anyway, I filled out a form, passed an eye test, and then got my picture taken... all within thirty minutes of stepping in the door. After which I was given a number and told to wait until called... Soon I figured my old license would be a thing of the past and my new license would be in hand...

When was my number was called, I jumped from my seat immediately proceeding to the counter. Once there, I paid my money and forfeited my old license... and in return, I was handed a slip of paper... I looked at the paper, and then at the woman behind the counter, and then back at the paper. Clearly realizing my confusion, the woman informed me that this was my temporary license and a new one would be mailed to me within two weeks. AND clearly, she had to be joking I thought to myself as I had just surrendered something near and dear to my heart and now was being told that in its place, I would have a piece of paper that looked like the registration for the car that I no longer owned. Unable to defend myself and simply stunned, I walked out of the DMV, head hanging, and grasping the piece of paper that would serve as my means of identification for the next two weeks... wishing that I was back in the Nutmeg state where I would have left with my friend that very day... a man without a photo identity...

Thankfully, I am happy to report that today I received my new license in the mail....and not a day too soon as I was getting very tired of trucking my passport around with me in order to serve as my means of access to all thing 21 and older... While this multi-color style license with my picture that makes me look more like a member of the population of Riker's Island than a resident of Eastern Strong Island (Brooklyn) will never replace my old one from the glorious Constitution State, I can now officially and unequivocally state that I am a New Yorker...

A Really Bad Idea

A group of my friends and I have formed a symposium of sorts in the universe of Blog... Although we would love to think that our new endeavor will have a tremendous effect on the human race similar to the Enlightment, we actually just hope you print off the new things we write before you go and take that dump at work.

Check it here.

MIA Excuse

It is time to come clean to you my fine readers about the real reason behind my recent inactivity with the good old blog and quite frankly this is a little hard to say... Alright I will just come clean and say it... I am not an attorney... It's true I have been lying to you all of this time... But really it was not my fault because in fact, I just found out that I have never been attorney and was simply living a life of deception and lies... A lie that I am not dealing that well with that at the present moment...

So what am I if I am not an attorney, well actually, I am a Department of Sanitation worker or as the career is more commonly known, "A Garbage Man." It's true, I am a Garbage Man.

Now you may wonder how a writer of my superior intelligence and intellect has been fooled for so long into thinking that I had a career as an attorney. Well that my friends appears to just be an impressive case of DENIAL. I mean I swear that each day, I wake up, put on my shirt, tie, and even pants if I am feeling frisky and then head to the office to practice the law. I even go or atleast I thought I went to Court each week to argue before a Judge calling him, "Your Honor."

Apparently, however, all of this is a classic case of misinterpreting my own reality, which I realized over the course of this very week while remaining in my office (I think that is what it is called) till around ten each evening. As I sat at the "desk," I realized that each day when I went to work instead of actually practicing the law, I was in fact cleaning up other peoples' garbage or SHIT. In fact, I have been spending so much of my time lately proceeding in this manner that I have begun to leave my own garbage strewn around the office in the hopes that some other poor soul will come in and take up the task of cleaning up my refuse.

And sure this is simply a blatantly obvious metaphor for my actual career, but in fact, it is my reality. I mean each day, I go in to discover another SHIT bomb has gone off in some file that I am dealing with that is solely the direct result of the inability or general incompetence of one of my co-workers or former members of the office. And as stated, I have to be consumed with saving that person's ass because at this point, it has been reassigned to me in order to limit the amount of damage their leftover shit can cause. As a result, my own shit keeps piling up and there ain't shit I can do about it. (pun intended, bite me)

Therefore, I am left with only one conclusion that I am no longer an attorney, and instead, I am member of the Department of Santitation, Department of Environmental Protection, or whatever agency has the responsibility to ensure that the large piles of shit that are accumulating my office and probably the world do not affect the live's of others.

SHIT!

Disclaimer

Just a quick disclaimer before I actually write something real tonight, I am starting to hit the point where I fear that I am repeating myself as I could have sworn that I discussed some of the crap in yesterday's entry numerous times before. Now, I think that really my reason for thinking this has to do with the enormously crappy memory that I have developed due to my "recreational activities," but I figured that I would apologize for any redundancies before I write much more.

A WEEK IN DELAY

For the last week, I have been trying to find some time just to write something or anything. I mean last week was my birthday and although all celebration should have ended on the 5th of October or possibly the morning of the 6th, I decided at some point last week to continue my celebration until some time early Monday morning of the 10th after I completed a pub crawl in the Lower East Side with my partner in crime, Dirty D. While at times, I viewed the events of the last week to be in direct contradiction to my 30 day fast from alcohol, I have come to conclusion (whether right or not) that I am going to have weeks like the one I just had as I am a creature of excess, and as long as a week does not progress into two weeks or more, I should be just fine. The key as my wisest of friends has told me when I recently entered this little slump is to remember that at the end of the day, moderation is what we are striving for and I am confident I can achieve that and so much more... Anyway, my present consumption aside, let me get to some shizzle that has been on my mizzle... (or mind, I have been playing a little bit too much Grand Theft Auto-San Andreas lately)

1. Happy Birthdays go out to Popstar and Pamarama. Today is the DOB of the Popstar while tomorrow, Little Sis Pamarama blows up the birthday scene with the big 25... HOLLA....

2. Work is killing me. I really have nothing to add other than there is NO REASON for me to have come home at ten o'clock tonight as this makes me want to write on this damn thing about as much as it makes me want to ask my roommate, the Jewish Journalist, to take a giant dump on my chest. (albeit a kosher one... and just so it is clear, The Roommate is actually a Jewish Journalist working for a jewish tell all rag in the local metropolitan area.. and although I think the experience he is getting is worth it to him, the constant appearances at crazy Jewish wine parties, cheese tastings, and being exposed to the dirty Jewish political underworld during his weekends nonetheless is starting to really wear on him... I think he may even be converting to Catholicism soon.. I'll be here all night tip your bartenders.)

3. In baseball news, the Sox were eliminated from the playoffs and thankfully so were the Yankees. Now as Bob Jingle has so deftly analyzed in his recent piece, the Sox lacked essentially everything that got them there in 2004, but at the same point instead of dwelling on the decisions that the Sox made this year, I prefer to look at what they did not do and why this means that they are going to win the World Series in 2006. Essentially it all boils down to the fact that the Red Sox unlike their arch nemesis the Mother Fucken Yankees did not panic this year meaning that unlike the Yankees they did not sign every possible pitcher and/or sucky outfielder on the market in hopes that these second rate morons would somehow make the other 200 + million dollars the Boss spent on that shit force of a lineup win a World Series and thus make the season a success.

REMEMBER THE YANKEES SIGNED HIDEO NOMO TO A MINOR LEAGUE CONTRACT... Repeat that to yourself seven times and then remember that he was last effective sometime during World War II when he was flying kamikaze missions in the Pacific... yeah I said FUCK HIM... and judge me....

But back to the point, the Yankees essentially rebuilt an entire pitching staff with Randy Johnson as their number one starter before the entire season started and ended with Randy Johnson and I think the announcers from the YES network as their pitching staff. Now the Red Sox proceeded in similar fashion except that when the wheels came off somewhere in the middle of the season, Theo did not necessarily panic instead he started to use some of his younger guys, made a couple of economical moves, and essentially told the entire Red Sox Nation that we were either going to win with the guys we got or it was the proverbial wait till next year. And I guess the Red Sox kind of split the baby on this one in that they made the playoffs but in the end got swept by the Chi-Sox, who were far superior in the areas that mattered i.e. EVERY POSSIBLE FACET OF THE GAME.

And you know what, I am kind of ok with the overall outcome for the season because I think that by the end of this year, this team was very very tired due to all of the off-season brew ha ha of being the World Champions for the first time in 86 years and thus, saving an entire part of the country from being losers for the remainder of their lives and dying bitter and alone... (actually, Sully, you are still dying bitter and alone.. because you are WICKED RETARDED but that is because you never graduated from Revere High School, you tool. Ok I will stop the simpleton Masshole jokes.) And they still won 95 games... i mean that is unbelievable...

Now, maybe it is true as Bob Jingle constantly reminds me that the Sox may have been better off with Pedro and Derek Lowe, but the problem is that for so many years the Red Sox wasted their off seasons through with the inability to make any moves by the likes of Lou Gorman and Dan Duquette... And since Theo just won us a World Series, I am willing to give the son of a bitch a pass on the season because I believe that in the end, the Sox will be better off without both Pedro and Lowe. (Plus, Pedro's stats from this season are all bull shit anyway now that he is in the NL since he gets to face the equivalent of the ballboy and the dude that throws batting practice every time through the lineup...while Lowe has spent his time in LA screwing the Weather Girl or whomever that bimbo was WHILE SUCKING BALLS.)

And then there are the Yankees, whose fan base awoke this morning to headlines of the pending apocalypse as Big George is soon going to unleash the fury that only he can on the ball club with the entire coaching staff, the GM, and many of the players possibly seeking employment elsewhere after the season. AND you know what, he got exactly what he deserved because instead of building a ball club with a certain character like the teams of the late 90's and the Sox of 2004, he basically tried to replace character by simply spending more money. AND yes that was the problem with the Red Sox to some extent but I feel that the Sox are in a far better position to be successful than the Yanks who are looking to make wholesale changes.

And finally, I am happy because I got to shave and now can get some real honest to god sleep and possibly even a date (ah that is unlikely)...

And now, I get to experience the sleep that I so writefully deserve...

Oh and by the way, A-Rod BLOWS!!!

October 5, 1977

Is the day that I entered this world.

Today, I am twenty-eight. I am not sure what if any significance this age has, other than in fact I have aged another year. I don't necessarily feel older, but I guess that I actually am older. I mean everyday that we live, we are technically older than we were the day before as this is how the aging process works.

I am not sad about turning twenty-eight like some people get because they are yet another year closer to turning thirty. Yes, I am closer to thirty, but in reality, there is no reason why because I am older that I have to act or behave in any different manner than I did when I was twenty-seven or even when I was twenty-five for that matter. The changing of one's age does not necessitate a change in one's life or impose some trumped up requirement that we have to suddenly become adults. Life has a funny way of making you an adult when you least expect it so I am not in any rush to force my life down that path.

This evening, I will celebrate this momentous event by watching some baseball with friends, an event similar to most of my evenings in this City. There was no evite sent out and no big hullabaloo planned because I tend to feel guilty if I force people to do anything huge for my birthday. As such, I am not big on making today any more of a deal than it has to be and so friends, baseball, and beer will be more than sufficient to observe the day of my birth.

Happy Birthday Old Man...

Man School

So I am back in Brooklyn after spending the weekend recharging back home with the rents. I had a great time in seeing my mom and dad as well as being able to head out to some of my old haunts. (Shaddy local townie bars.)

Possibly, the highlight of the weekend was the time that I spent at Man School attempting to earn my Man Badge. For those that do not know, Man School is where you go when you attempt to do some type of manual labor whether it be the fixing of a car, chopping of the wood, or any other activity that requires sweat being expended. Since I have moved to the City, Man School, basically, has been out of session because there are limited if NO opportunities to take any of its many courses.

BUT in the wild world of New England, Man School is always in session, and thus, today, I had the opportunity to re-gravel my parents' driveway by filling up a wheel-barrel with little tiny rocks and then spreading them over the entire driveway. This task was necessary because my parents are selling the house of my youth and moving to a gated community (read: Old Retirement Place of Doom). As such, they are trying to spruce the place up to increase the market value, and hence, I found myself shoveling stones today.

And you know what, I loved every minute of it. I mean as you all I know I run a ton, and thus, I have a unusual aversion to the infliction of personal pain. And as I once told a girl who I was trying to get to date me (and failed miserably at doing), I enjoy pain. Scratch that, I love pain because I think that through pain, you are able to gauge the exact amount of energy you are utilizing to complete a certain task and thus can truly calculate your productivity. PLus, there is a sick endorphin rush that comes along with pain. (I am twisted what can I say.)

As a result, today's activity made me feel like I actually accomplished something tangible. And sure, I realize that this task may seem to be mundane to some and a pain to others but at the same time, I loved it if only because it got me away from frittering my life awat in front of a computer screen practicing the law. And so I feel an immense sense of accomplishment as a result of the Man Badge in Gravel Shoveling that I earned today and you can judge me if you want but that Man Badge is mine forever.

Race Results

Well I ran the 5k this morning and finished in an acceptable 19:51, which is right around 6:30 mile pace and earned me 16th place overall. The time is a little off my goal for the race, which was sub-19:00 but considering that I have not worked in any speed work yet, I think this is a great starting point. Hopefully by the time I run my next race, a five miler in Central Park at the end of October, I should be able to run the same pace but for two additional miles.

Popstar, on the other hand, did awesome as she got third place in her division and a prize. (some kind of shampoo hair product..) Even more impressive about her performance is that she did this only days after going on meds for strep throat. She is a stud, what can I say...

Anyway, now we are off to a local dive bar to watch the Sox...

Till later....