Always at least 1

It's that time of the year again. Company Holiday Party time. This year my company dressed down their party due to the "uncertain ecomonic climate" that exists (re: we're all fucked and probably going to be fired). We still had a few functions in the office though. Regardless of where the party is being held, there is always 1 or 2 individuals who make a complete and utter fool of themselves during these things. This year was no exception. I won't name any names but suffice it to say they put on a good show for the rest of us. Even me, the one in the elf costume (longer story) was revelling in the stupidty of others during the party. The best part is that it was held in the office so the inevitable videos and pictures that are floating out there make it even better. At least in a club you can chalk it up to being in an outside party environment. What kind of excuse do ya got if you're being an ass in your own office space?

People Go Down

Not once but twice last week I saw people get injured on my way through the city. On Thursday I was walking to work when a middle-aged woman dropped like a sack of spuds, hit her head on the pavement and blacked out. She was bleeding slightly from a cut on her head and was unresponsive. As a security guard called for help on his radio, I put a paper towel to her head and tried to wake her up. She came to but was still unresponsive. She sat up by herself and when I asked again if she was ok she looked at me and asked me why. I told her that she passed out and hit her head on the pavement. She asked me 3 times where she was. Totally out of it. By then a cop and an EMT arrived. I explained what happened then was on my merry way again. Yesterday, as I was driving up 57th street, a motorbike in front of me was hit when a car did a Uturn in the middle of the road. The front of the car hits the bike which was doing 25 miles an hour. The biker, wearing a helmet, does a helicopter spin in the air and lands on the ground. The front car bumper and the bike were a wreck. I stopped my car, got out and immediately called 911 to get help. When I got the the injured biker he was being helped by a couple of people. He seemed dazed but was able to sit up. He might have had a fracture in his wrist but otherwise seem fine. As the cops showed up I knew there was not much more I could do. The dude might need a tiny cast and would have quite the headache to deal with but other than that, he was ok. My job was done. I got back in my car and left. I'm like Superman who has no powers and can't fly.

Old Ladies

I voted today. Wheee!!!
Everything went pretty smoothly. I was in line for a total of 15 minutes and I feel that was some sort of record. Nothing seemed to be of any problems save for one. Old ladies in the line. It seems that old ladies have patience problems. I'm not sure why they are in a rush. They're almost dead anyway. At the polling center, I was in front of an old lady who was eye balling every person who came in and went to a different line as if they were trying to pull a fast one on poll reps in order to cut. She even made a comment to one individual about being on the wrong line when they were in fact on the correct line. Old Bag.
My friend told me that while she was waiting on line and person a few people in front of her was joined by a friend who was just chatting and nothing more. Not cutting in. One old lady spoke up about not letting that person cut in. The girl on line said, "relax, she is from Canada and can't even vote." Old Bag.

Plastic Thingy

I just got a new phone at work. On the call screen at the top they left on the flimsy plastic sheet to protect the screen. I appreciate that. I also took it off the first second I got it. I see the screen better without it and it looks nasty when you keep it on. However, I noticed a bunch of people just leave it on. I don't get that. Why leave it on? It looks hideous. Take it off damn it, take it off! Are you too busy to just peel it off? What's up with that?

Secret Speech

What's up with people who talk on their cell phones and hold their mouths over the phone while they talk? What are they trying to do, keep the conversation secret? If I can hear them or even read lips, will I know some amazing new fact and crush their soul at the same time? I refuse to believe that these people are talking about information that is so sensitive that they don't want other people to know what they are saying. Maybe it could be that they want to smell their own breath while they talk. "Hi hun, I wanted to call so that I could smell my own breath while on the phone to you. If you're wondering, I smell like cheese."
This is the opposite of people who are too loud on their phones in very public places. Either way, the person who covers their mouth and the person who speaks too loudly in public are total douche bags. They should be locked in a room with the asshole who talks on his ear piece and looks like he has tourettes. Then give them all only 1 bar of reception. The mouth coverer's game is up, the loud talker talks louder and loses his voice and the tourettes guy looks like a bigger idiot because he is now talking even louder to himself.

Real Townie

I've thought of myself as a real New Yorker for a while now. I grew up (threw up?) on Long Island and moved into the city 5 years ago. I think it became official the other day when I got stopped twice on the walk to work by people to ask me questions. That right, I walk to work in Manhattan.
The first stop was a woman on 57th Street asking me where the closest bus stop was across town. I told her it was between 6th and 7th instead of at the corner. She thanked me and I was off again. The second stop was next to 30 Rock where a woman who was with her 2 kids and husband asked me whether or not going to the top of 30 Rock was better than the Empire State Building. I told her it was because the lines were shorter, the price was cheaper, the view was better since you see Central Park and the Empire State building, and finally, the coolest part that the kids would love, once in the elevator the lights go off and the ceiling becomes transparent and you see yourself shoot all the way up. She thanked me as that sold them on it.
Yup, I was pretty proud of myself.

V.I.P.

It's that time of the year again when the leaves start changing and the temperature starts dropping and the U.N. Assembly does it's shtick and fucks with all of mid-town Manhattan. For a whole week the top leaders of the world come to NYC and talk their winded talk and congest traffic for 3-4 days. I walk to work everyday and it's amusing to have to wait for a motorcade to go by or see beefy suits with ear pieces swarming every big hotel or even seeing every available police officer standing in the middle of the streets doing nothing. It's probably the best time to commit a crime elsewhere in the city. Who's gonna be there to stop ya?
Anyway, I can see how it can be annoying to most New Yorkers. Why do you need all this security? Where are we, Beirut? I don't think these people are very important at all. I agree with Booger in Revenge of the Nerd II. They are all V.I.P.s... Very Immense Penises.

Babies Can Go Almost Anywhere

I thought it would be hard to bring a baby out when you want to go somewhere and have adult time. I was wrong. I went to Octoberfest this weekend with the wife and baby and, although it was very crowded, we were able to get in and find a nice section to lay a blanket out for the her. The wife and I proceeded to have some beer and enjoy the music and festivities. The next day we went to the park and again laid the blanket out for the little one and let her watch us as we played badminton. She seemed to enjoy the day and made little of no fuss at either occasion. Outdoors is fine. Indoors...not s o much. It's not that I think the little one would be a terror. It's just that I'm a bit skeptical of going on a plane for example with the little one. I don't want to be that guy. I hate it when kids are in a movie theather or a plane. You cannot escape. I was hoping to wait until she was at least 6 before bringing her into such places. We'll see.

Adult View-Master

I've recently gotten very interested in buying 3D View-Master reels. I bought a couple reels from the 70's, which was when I last used this device. I was wondering if they created adult themed reels but I haven't found any on-line. Not that I would buy them, I just want to know what looking at bikini models in 3D would look like. Yeah, I know you can look at live bikini models but the novelty of 3D View-Master bikini models would be interesting. Anyway, the best part of View-Masters are that you only need one had to view them. Think about that one.

70's Rehash

I was looking at a picture of a coworker's parents house and could not stop looking at the wall paper. It was like the 70's popped a huge zit and it exploded all over the kitchen. I remember my grandparents having something similar in their kitchen as well as all their bathrooms. In retrospect I feel that it wouldn't be too bad of a style to have today. I'm not saying cover the whole apartment in this tacky show of splendor. Maybe one bathroom could have it. It seemed you didn't have a good bathroom back then unless you covered it in outrageously bad wall paper. My cousins old house had a bathroom with wallpaper that had greek sculptors on it, half of which seemed to be having an orgy. Really weird stuff. These days, most people opt for bare white walls and possibly a trim at the top or bottom. If I get around to it one of these days I might actually try to recreate this awesomeness in my own bathroom. Of course, the wife will never go for it. She doesn't share my vision.

We Are All Lottery Winners

I find it problematic when someone tells me that they have never won a thing in their life. They are of course referring to the lottery or a raffle or any other chance event. I find this a problem because each and every one of them have won the biggest lottery of all time. Here's how I see it:
Everybody, including you, has or had a dad. Your dad, at an early age like around 12, figured out how to masterbate. With each ejaculate he produced anywhere from 50 million to 150 million individual sperm. Figure he wacked off on average once a day for many years until he finally found a woman to do it for him. Your dad has lots of sex with many of these women and each time he ejaculates he produces 50 million to 150 million sperm. Eventually, after all those years of fucking girlfriends and strangers he will meet you mom. He has lots of sex with your mom and each time he ejaculates he produces 50 million to 150 million sperm. At some point, either on purpose or by accident, during one of those sex sessions that produces 50 million to 150 million individual sperm, 1 of those little guys of the trillions of spermatozoa that your dad produced over the course of his entire life, makes it to the promise land and fertilizes one of your mom's eggs. And that little lottery winner is you.

ViewMaster

I decided to purchase some old 70's 3D ViewMaster reels on ebay. I grew up looking at them and although the weird still claymation aspect of the images is rather tacky compared to today's reels, I loved it anyway. I am going to try to get 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Dracula, Wolf Man, Frankenstein and Godzilla. I can probalby get all of them for like $12. I don't actually have a ViewMaster yet but I figured if I can get the reels then getting a ViewMaster will be the easy part. I want to give them to my kid when she gets a bit older. I think trying to get nostalgic with your own kid is half the fun of making them. The other half is actually making them.

Parking Debate

I'm not a big fan of people who hold parking spots for other by standing in them. Yesterday, I came home and saw a coveted spot to park in and was about to take it when miraculously I saw another spot 2 cars in front of that spot. I figured I'd take that one as I was lazy and could be 2 cars closer to my apartment. However, a woman was standing in my way. She said she was holding the spot for someone. Kind of retarded as I believe that the first car to get to the spot should have it. I didn't make an issue out of it as I got the first spot I saw and parked there anyway. Still, the principle for me at lease is that you can't hold a spot for someone by just standing in it. I wish I could throw eggs at people as well as other cars from my car who I deem to be retarded. Not in a Special Olympics way but rather a you should know better but don't way. Too many assholes driving on the road and standing in the street.

Free Toppings

If you're like me you love a true NYC dirty water dog. For those that don't know what these are, they are the hot dogs you buy anywhere from $1 up to $3 from a hot dog/pretzel vendor in the street or the park. On Monday, I happened to have been in Central park with the fam and decided on getting some dirty waters. A true New Yorker will know that the only things you can get on them are kraut, onions, ketchup or mustard. You say what you want specifically or if you want it all you tell the vendor you want a dog with everything. The dogs themselves come in 2 sizes, regular and large. A true New Yorker also knows that anything you get on your dog does not cost anything extra. I asked the vendor for 1 small dog with kraut and one large dog with everything. The Central Park dogs are a bit more than the street dogs because of the location so the small one is listed on the cart for $2 and the large for $3. When the vendor gave me the 2 dogs he asked for $7 in return. I asked what for as the sign clearly said a total of $5 for those 2 dogs. He then took a ripped card board sign out that said large dogs are $4 and toppings extra. I lost my shit on this dude. I said that was bullshit since the price was fixed as his cart sign mentioned and toppings were never extra in the cost anywhere in the city. I yelled at him for trying treat me like some Okie tourist who might not know better. He quickly gave up the fight and took the $5 for the 2 dogs he had just handed me. What an asshole.

Political Dream

I had a dream last night. Obama was a police man who, along with a sidekick who was not Joe Biden, was in a Mississippi town trying to find his dad. The other police officers were giving him a hard time and brought him to the county lock-up. He was trying to get people to recognize him and nobdy knew who Barack Obama was. As he was sitting in jail, there was only one person who could get him out. John McCain shows up and every one knows who he is so they let Obama out because he asked them to. Very Heat of the Night-ish.

Not sure what this means.

anonymous people

I was walking along the river with my baby the other day. I had the carriage turned around and wheeled her backwards so the sun wouldn't hit her directly in the face as she slept. It's a 2 way path that people use to walk or ride their bikes. There are a lot of bikes that ride through during the day and it can sometimes be a hazard when they come zooming by. No matter what the situation is though, the walking pedestrian should be given the right of way and the biker should slow and use caution when riding on the path.
As I was walking, a middle-aged man came riding around me and yelled as he rode by for me to move more over to the side. I was not exactly in the middle and there was plenty of room for him to pass. I lost my shit. I yelled at him to turn around, come back and tell me what he had said instead of saying it as he rode by like an anonymous coward. He turned around and owned up to his beef and we had some kind words for each other. I had a few more words for him about his mother as he started to ride away and another biker lightly hit his bike from behind. He said, "look, you cause accidents." I said, "You are an accident." He rode away in disgust. I told him to tell his mom that I said thanks.
I don't like it when people say things from afar or anonymously. It's pretty douchy and makes you look like a tool. Man up, get off your bike or high horse and tell what you think to my face.

Strategically Gay

I have another hypothesis. It goes like this: I believe that homo-sexuality is advantageous to the human race. At least it was up until the latter half of the last century. This hypothesis is solely a species related advantage and has nothing to do with any cultural aspects of being gay.
Here's how I figure it. Throughout history, I believe that a certain percentage of the human population has been homo-sexual. As population increases, the number of homo-sexual individuals, both male and female, have increased but the percentage from the whole population has stayed the same. So if 5% of the population is always gay, that stays the same but the overall number of homo-sexuals increases with population increase.
I belive there is a reason for this. I think that the human species has built in mechanisms to slow its own growth. If a percentange of the population is homo-sexual and therefore can not procreate, the population can in theory stay in check before outside forces such as pestilence, hunger, poverty and natural disasters destroy them instead. However, being as smart as the human species are, we have found a way around that little issue with the invention of in vitro fertilization. This way any gay male can have his sperm put into a female or any gay female can have sperm inserted into them. Gay people having children, Voila!
An advantage no more.

Greatest Olympian ever

That title will never have my name after it. I think when you hit your 30's it becomes somewhat official that you will never be a great athlete. I started thinking. Although I wouldn't become a great olympian...ever, I wondered what event I could excell at if I had actually put some effort into it at an early age. The answer: nothing. I could work out day and night and focus solely on one particular sport my entire life and I don't even think I could get past nationals. I mean at anything. This includes ping pong, archery, javelin and hell, might as well throw it out there... curling. I am now inclined to think that my inability to motivate myself to compete in any sport at any early is knowing that I would never be able to take it to the highest levels of sport competition. Knowing this fact has made me feel much better about doing nothing at all. I think that too many people underestimate to power of nothing. It should be revered as the single greatest thing anybody can do. Winning tons of gold medals is great... if you care about that sort of thing. Me, I like sitting around and watching people sweep brooms on the ice in order to get a large rock as close to the bulls-eye as possible.

Unavoidable Staring

You can call me weird or pervy, I don't care what you think, but when I am on the subway and a girl is wearing a low-cut top that exposes her cleavage, I cannot help but stare. I love the low-cut top that not only has a low-cup bra but a bra that is just slightly too big for her. This allows me to see most of her boobs. I figure, if she did not want me to stare and worship her boobs she would not be wearing those particular items of clothing. She is inviting my stares. Her boobs are like tracker beams that keep my gaze. I am unable to look away and nor do I want to. I sometimes wear my shades so she cannot see what I am looking at. I know I am not the only one who does this. I think it should be a law that all hetero men should stare at a woman's boobs on the subway when she wears a very revealing top. There isn't much about an NYC subway ride that I am fond of but the boob stare is worth all the other hassles.

Outside World

I'm taking a business trip next week to Augusta, Georgia. I don't normally take business trips so this is a new experience for me. When I travel, I go to places I want to see and want to do things in. This will not be one of those places. I am literally forced to go some place I would not normally go. I'm slightly apprehensive as I do not know what the people in this region of the country will be like. Most places I go have relatively normal people and tourists who are like me. This might be a scary place that has scary people. I'll have to stay over night. Maybe these people change at night. Like vampires and werewolves. Maybe not that dramatic but what if they are weird. I might wake up in my hotel room to see a local standing over me, wide eyed and salivating. Maybe I'm being silly but what if this really happens. I won't look so silly anymore.

Best Porn Movie Ever

Here is the concept: A female devil that looks like a hot, saucy Latina goes around enticing married men to cheat on their wives with her by promising and giving the hottest sex they've ever had. The thing is, the wives always find out. Part of the deal with this hot devil as the guys never read the fine print. This continues to happen for 3 scenes which are very hot. We can even throw in the obligatory lesbo scene. It doesn't matter how it happens, it's just there.
Eventually, the she-devil finds one man who she can't seem to entice and the reason is that this guy's wife is even hotter than the devil chick and is better at fucking too. So the story ends on a high note with morality winning and the hottest sex scene in the whole movie because the guy's wife is so hot. Now, the title of the film: The Devil Wears Nada.
Sweet... right?

Retard Kicks

I was talking to a work colleague outside while he was having a smoke. I was complaining that the company didn't have a softball team this year. That kinda sucks because I love playing company softball. I feel I perform better while I'm buzzed, kind of like sex. I'm more relaxed and smack balls better.
We started talking about other team sports we would like to do. Dodgeball, handball, kickball. I loved to play kickball. It seemed so easy to punt the big red ball when I was younger. I also liked being able to peg other children with the ball to get them out. I think the best part of the game was watching people get strikes at the plate. In softball if you whiff, it's a shame. In kickball if you get a strike, you look fucking retarded. It's a big red, bouncy ball coming at you on the ground at 5 miles an hour... and you miss. You simply have to be fucking retarded. I loved to watch it because people always looked pathetic when they missed. I would think about running to the backstop to grab the missed ball and peg them for being so retarded.

Certified Idiots

I saw another odd sign today as I was walking to work. On the side of a truck it read: Certified Document Destruction. Now, it's not as good as Real Egg Substitute but it still got me thinking. What exactly do you have to do to get certified so you can destroy documents? Do you go to school for it? Do you get a license if you pass said course? Someone told me that it means you get a certified document that tells you all your documents are destroyed. That doesn't make sense either. "Sir, here is a certified document saying we destroy all of your Guantanamo Bay torture documents. It list everything we got rid of. No need to thank us." Wouldn't you now need to destroy that document too and if so would they do it and give you a certified copy that the certified document of your files were destroyed?
It reminds me of another slogan I saw on the side of a residential moving vehicle. It read:
We care about your load.

Seriously.

Does any one take the time to think about what they are putting on their commercial trucks before they let them loose in the world to do business? I tend to think they don't.

Air Traffic Control

Is it me or does anyone else think it is retarded when people clap on planes when it lands safely. Like they're all watching an opera and the performance was amazing. Isn't it the job of the pilots to get you down from the air safely? Why would people risk their lives to fly in a metal tube 6 miles in the air if they were scared enough to clap at the end cause there was a remote chance they would all plummet to their death? I think this is insane. The whole clapping thing. It's like people in a theater who clap after the end of a movie. No one can see or hear you asshole. Those actors... not really there.
Maybe the pilots should clap after every plane landing. They should add a loud "Whoo Hoo!" just for dramatic effect too. That'll get the passengers thinking. Are the pilots this excited normally or did we just escape death and didn't even know it? Let's see if they enjoy their vacation then. They won't stop thinking that they'll have to get back on again to fly home. "Whoo Hoo!"

Train Wreck

I have a friend whose blog moniker is Train Wreck. This post has nothing to do with her. Sorry, Train Wreck. This post actually has everything to do with an observation I had on the train this morning. I'm standing in the train waiting for the doors to close when a woman about 35-ish attempts to get on the train as the door is closing. Now, she would have cleared it entirely if she was neither one of the following 2 things. 1: a moron and 2: carrying a purse the size a small water buffalo. Unfortunately, she fit both of these descriptions and therefore did not clear the closing doors. First, her head hit both sides of the door like a demented ping-pong ball. Then, as her body slithered through the door, her right arm and the obscenely large bag that was attached to it, got wedged in between the doors. Try as she might, the woman could not get all the way in. A few good samaritans (read: fellow idiots) tried to help her and get the door open... to no avail. I stood there and did nothing. Now, I know you probably think I am a cruel person. Frankly, I don't care what you think. Secondly, I knew perfectly well that the train was not going anywhere. The door operator knows there is a door that is slightly adjar and will open it again to make sure all idiots are safely inside the train. It took a few seconds longer than normal in this instance but I think it was the door operator's way of breaking the monotony of his day with a little train door operator humor. I, for one, liked the guy's style.

Habitual Voyeur

I am a Habitual Voyeur. Love looking at people in various states of undress and sexual intimacy when they don't know I am watching. I once had an apartment in Boston that overlooked an all girls Boston University Freshman dorm. It was as close to heaven as you can get on this planet. Leaving that place was one of the saddest moments of my life. Anyway, I was at P.S. 1 this past Saturday for their Warm Up party. Its really cool. Normally, the place is a modern art museum where a public school use to be. On Saturdays from 3-9pm there is a party in the court yard. Beer, DJ, hipsters. Really nice party on a hot summer day. The best part is that the place is a voyeur's paradise. There are these steps at the front where the stage is and people are just sitting down watching the party dance in front of them as the DJ spins behind them. Every girl seems to wear next to nothing and that includes short skirts. Naturally, while sitting on steps, their skirts are riding up giving full view of plenty of panties. Some weren't even wearing panties. Oh glorious day!

Oxy Morons

I saw a box of food going into a hotel service entrance today that read Real Egg Subsititute on it. Seriously?
What the fuck does that mean?
This is probably a competition thing between egg substitute companies as they try to out maneuver each other for egg substitute supremacy. One of them obviously wanted an edge and made the claim that they are in fact the REAL egg substitute in order to distinguish themselves from the other, fake brand of egg substitute. This leads me to another thought. If one version is the real deal, then how bad does the fake stuff taste. I bet though, if you eat enough of the egg substitute that when you eventually go back to eating regular eggs, the chicken laying stuff will blow your mind.

Fish Toilet

I went to the beach on Saturday. I use to not like the beach but I have grown use to it over the years and now I find it quite relaxing. The water was nice, not too cold. The waves were not exceptionally big but still a nice size to enjoy. As I was being pummeled by the waves, letting the current throw me around, I couldn't help but think that the ocean is just one giant toilet bowl for all of aquatic life. It would be like a fly descending into a human toilet bowl when it goes on vacation. A bit nasty but still very refreshing.

Pervy Claus

Every time I see a guy with thinning white hair and a white beard I think 2 things. 1: he looks like Santa and 2: he does this because he is a pervert. I think the Santa look has a bit of a Pedo feel to it. It's not a coincidence that a lot of child molesters have this look. I don't know what makes men do this when they get to middle age but frankly, I think it's a little creepy. And they are always assholes. It's like they know that they look like Santa and they feel compelled to act the opposite of the good hearted, fat guy in the red suit. Can't you just picture one of them saying to you, "want some candy little girl?" Ew. It's even weirder when you're a guy a they say that to you.

Retarded Quicksilver

One of the many dangers that can happen on the streets of this city is getting hit by some guy on a bike who's speeding through the city streets like he's Quicksilver. I am always mindful of them when I cross the street, looking at on-coming traffic to make sure they are not approaching. Even when the street is packed with cars, they can sometimes come at you from the sides so you have to be careful. I have nothing bad to say about them. I wish they didn't ride so fast but I understand they have packages they need to deliver and I should be watching out for them just in case.
Today however, as I was getting off the bus, I look in the direction of traffic before I headed across the street. I barely took 1 step when this fat retard almost hits me going the wrong way up the street on his bike. I don't mean to use the phrase in a derogatory way. I mean it literally. He was obese and had attributes that were signs of obvious low intellect. He didn't even look back at me as he yelled, "Hey!!!" to get me out of the way. I yelled back, "Hey, fat retard! Come back here! My fist wants to dance on your face!" Fat stupid fuck kept on going. There must have been a free Jell-o give away or something. No time to stop. Must get free Jell-o!

Ass Clown

I was riding back from New Jersey the other day when I pulled up to a stop light. I looked over at the car next to me and saw a middle aged man who was bald up top with curly blonde hair around the sides and back. He was sporting a thick blond mustache to match. He looked like Bozo the Clown's perverted uncle. I could not stop looking at him. Like looking at road kill. Disturbing yet captivating. He apparently noticed I was looking at him and stared right back. He then proceeded to give me an air kiss thinking it would distract me and make me look away. I did not. I stared straight at him and as mock response I licked my lips. He gave a nervous chuckle as he turned to face foward and I could read his lips say "asshole". Yeah, I might be an asshole pal but you're a fuckin' clown faggot, dude.

Oops

Here's an annoying fun fact: People can't help but say "oops" when they almost bump into someone rounding a corner or coming out of a room. I don't exactly know why they say this particular word instead of, oh, anything else. They could say "sorry" or "pardon me" or even "excuse me" would suffice. No, everyone insists on saying "oops" like a fat office secratary who drops her half eaten donut on the floor just out of reach from her pudgy, swollen fingered grasp. When it happens to me I wait for them to say it and quickly, slightly under my breath, say "douche". It kind of sounds like "oops" but not quite. They'll think they heard something different but they're not sure so they keep going. Maybe if I say it enough to the same person, they will subliminally change and start saying "douche" without realizing it. That would make me happy.

Harem

I want my own private Harem. I don't need too many girls in it, just enough to keep things fresh. Maybe around 10 at one time. They would revolve in and out of my Harem once I got tired of them or they got too old. Kind of like Menudo. If I could have been anyone in history, I would have been Suleiman the Magnificient Tenth Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. The guy was born into the the greatest situation any person could ask for when being born. The Empire was at its largest so he didn't need to expand further if he didn't want to. Ottoman society was at relative peace so he didn't need to fight if he didn't want to. Being born the Tenth in line had a positive ring to it so he was looked at as the greatest even before he could walk. Above all, he had a Harem that would make Hugh Hefner weep. I don't need the amount of women he had in his, which I heard was in the hundreds, but A few would be nice. It's all I'm asking for.

Lava Balls

Most men take for granted and most women don't know that balls have a mind of their own. People think they just hang there in the sack and do nothing. This is not true. When it is cold out, they shrink up closer to the body for more warmth. When it is warm, they hang loose and sway in the breeze. Even more obscure than that is if you look really close and watch them for a minute or two, you'll notice they move around. The skin around them slinks this way and that like a caterpillar over a rock. It is very hypnotizing. Like watching a lava lamp when you're stoned.
A side note: I've heard they taste good too.

A dog's life.

I asked a friend today what dog she would be if she could be a dog. Her response: One of those ones u shove in ur purse...
Or a Lab

I really don't care what kind of dog I am, I'd just like to be any dog so I can piss on whatever I want, screw whatever I want, poo where ever I want and have somebody pick it up for me. When they bent down I would look at them and say to myself every time, "That's right, kneel before Zod!"

That would be awesome.

Birthday

Today is my birthday. Someone asked me today what my plans were and I told them the following:

Plans...

I was thinking of finding a fat kid and stealing his lunch money. Then I thought I would make fun of a retarded person. I might feel bad for a second but then I'd come to the realization that it's my birthday and for one day out of the year I can do as I want. Besides, I'm not retarded and that's awesome. Finally, I might go to a shady Korean "spa" and end the day happily.

I love my birthday.

Ma.

I saw a guy try to abbreviate the month of May the other day. How lazy do you have to be? September I can understand. Even that word abbreviated is long that the entire word May. This guy must be the laziest human being on the planet. If I looked up Sloth in the dictionary, the first thing I word see is his picture, the second thing I would see is that the word is not abbreviated. That's weird.

Sweat

Where do you sweat? For some they sweat profusely from their arm pits or their head. I sweat on my back. As soon as the temperature rises or I exert myself in anyway, my back is like Niagara Falls. This might sound disgusting to you but I don't care what you think, this is my blog. Besides, you sweat some where and I'm sure it's pretty nasty when excessive. I know girls who get stains on their shirts under their arms when they sweat. I don't have that problem. Thank god too because that's just gross.

Road Side

I get a kick out of the Mexican women who stand by the side of the road at intersections on very hot days. Sometimes selling fruit but more often then not they are selling bottles of water for $1. Now, I'm thinking that it cannot be that cost effective if they are selling it for that price because I can buy $1 bottles of water in any convenience store. Yesterday I was in the supermarket and noticed that there were 35-packs of bottles of water for only $7. Hell, that's an incredible profit margin if you are making $28 on every 35-pack of water you sell by the side of road. On a real hot day, I'd think you could sell as many bottles as your car could hold. You'd have to factor in the cost of ice but it can't be much. The best thing is that if they get too hot, there is plenty of water for them to drink. I'm in the wrong business.

Paper cuts

I am convinced that paper is malicious in nature. There is no better way to explain the paper cut. I think it is revenge for cutting down the trees with which to make the stuff. They feel slighted and in turn react by cutting us like a little Japanese girl yelling, "I'll cut you, bitch!"
Sure, you can crumple up the little bastard and throw him away but his brothers are waiting in line like martyrs to take up the cause and cut you again. It is no use to fight as fighting is futile. I think there is a coalition forming between paper and pencils. They've been in cahoots for a long time now. The pencil, in its own form of defiance, does not physically harm you like paper does. It annoys you by going limp and snapping as you write your words. I hate that. First the pencil snaps, ruining the page for me, and then the paper cuts me adding injury to insult.
I just hope the computer doesn't take up the cause as well and try to electrocute me.

Lefty Smudgy

Who ever created the erasible pen was obviously a hater of lefties. I am a lefty and I feel the wrath of that individual every time I pick up and write with an erasible pen. First of all, the idea behind the erasible pen is ridiculous. If you are that concerned about what you are writing that you might need to erase it and rewrite the word again then maybe you should stick to pencils. Either that or you should stop being a retard and write it correctly the first time around.
A right-handed individual can have a devil-may-care attitude when using one. The problem I have with erasible pens, as a lefty, is that when I use one, my hand is following the pen on the paper. As I write, my hand comes immediately after it, smudging the ink on the paper and giving me a blue splotchy mark on the side of my palm. It's a bitch to clean off too. If I want to avoid contact with the ink I have to write as if I have Cerebral Palsy or something.
There is one good thing about erasible pens.
Whenever I see a blue stain on my palm from an erasible pen, I like to take my frustration out directly on the little fucker. In high school, the hallway lockers had little slits at the top that acted like air vents. If you put the pen in and snap it, the tip comes off and blue ink squirts out in a blob. Sure the locker got stained but so fucking what? It serves the school right for distributing erasible pens to lefties.

Bathroom Reads

Some people don't like to use the office crapper. I don't mind so much. I don't like to use it when someone else is in the room though. I feel weird trying to squeeze one out and someone is a few feet away. What if a loud fart comes out. I know the person can't see me but they might recognize my shoes under the door and match up my shoes later with that individual he heard trumpeting in the john a little while earlier. The Shame!
Other than that, I don't really mind the office loo. I especially like it when someone leaves reading material. Most of the time it's the daily paper or some shitty (no pun intended) client pamphlet that he left there on purpose to annoy the next shitter. However, sometimes you get real lucky and every once in a blue moon someone leaves a Maxim or FHM lying there. That's pure gold. I usually sit around for a good 30 minutes before I finish up when the good stuff is available. I am tempted to take the Maxim with me but I think it is bad karma. Someone else usually winds up taking it but they're shit heads anyway.

Take off music

I think everybody should have music that they need to play whenever they take off in flight. It would seem to be a situation that warranted the need for kick ass music. I used to play the 1st 4 songs on Led Zeppelin 4 when the plane started to taxi away from the gate. It seemed so natural. Black Dog was perfect for the slow motion of the plane away from the gate. It sounds like a jumble of elements that went well with the flurry of activity that surrounded the airplane at a busy airport. As the plane gets to the runway and Rock and Roll comes on, the plane rocks into motion and screams down the runway, the song and the acceleration getting the listener pumped up. The Battle of Evermore just sounds like a song you'd want to hear as you drift through the clouds, the lofty sounds making you want to float out of your seat and fly by yourself. Stairway to Heaven seems an obvious final choice for a tune that should play while the plane rises higher and higher toward the heavens. Not much more to say about that one.
These days I have done away with the four-part production. I simply wait until the plane is just about ready to go down the runway and play the theme song to Dr. Who circa 1980. It has the same effect on me by itself as all four songs from Led Zeppelin did years ago.

Ideal

Not really sure what people think is the ideal age. I know that young kids always want to be older and older folks always want to be younger. I know my own ideal age is 23. I have no real reason for choosing this age. It is not like something happened at that point that made me choose it. I just think that it feels like a natural age at which all people don't need to wish to be younger than or older than it. I liked it because it just seems to be perfect. 21 was still too young as you are trying to figure thinks out still and haven't gotten any real world experience. 27 is too old as you are well aware of the world around you but things aren't as fresh as they were at 23. Besides, it is Michael Jordan's jersey number so at least it has that going for it.

Grape

Sometimes a word is spoken and you say it over and over and over. After a while it just sounds stupid. A friend of mine thinks the word Grape is stupid to say over and over again. I think the word Mumps is just as weird. She disagrees. She is not my friend anymore.

Bacne

Bacne, aka back acne, is down right disturbing. The only decent thing is that the owner of said bacne is never able to view the horror. Only significant others and people on a beach can witness the bacne. I'm not really sure how it came to pass but I thing there needs to be a law that abolishes this condition. A prison sentence is mandatory for anyone who does not get their bacne laser removed in a timely fashion. And there should be another prison sentence to the sickos who like to pop their significant other's bacne. You people make me sick!

Big Umbrella = Big Douche Bag

Walking through the rainy streets of Manhattan is challenging enough on even the nicest days. Try getting from point A to point B on a rainy day and you're liable to get smacked in the face by several cold, wet, obscenely large umbrellas. This is a big city but the streets are crowded with the likes of people trying to get to work or a tourist destination at all hours of the day. During rush hour commute, I like to walk to work instead of taking Mass Transit. This is a nice luxury, I will admit. I've come to terms with the harzards and obstacles that I encounter along my daily route to and fro. However, the large golf umbrellas that some people insist on carrying around over their heads when it rains is down right not cool. And it's always the same rich monkey suit wearing douche bag too. Never the tourist or slacker or hippy or old Chinese woman who carries them. It's the middle age white guy who is not only afraid of getting his $4000 dollar suit wet but apparently the 10 foot perimeter that surrounds him while he walks. These fucks can't even get out of there own way. Hey asshole, leave the stupid thing back at your preppy golf resort and carry a normal size umbrella around this town. The dumbest thing is that they sometimes bloom it open when it's not even raining. Douche Bag!

Can't remember the last time I had a good puke

I honestly can not.
There are 2 kinds of puke. There is the good kind where you feel a bit sick, puke one or twice, then you're fine as if you were never sick in the first place. Then there is the bad kind where you puke so much that you can not stop. You might run out of things to up chuck from your system but that doesn't mean you stop heaving. At that stage it turns into what is known as the dry heave. It feels terrible and it sounds even worse. At least with real puke, the material coming up through your esophagus masks the heaving sound so you only hear the initial retch followed by the splatter of the puke when it finds its target. Dry heaving, not to be confused with dry humping, sounds like the last gasp of a dying giraffe. I don't like those kinds of pukes and I'm sure no one else does either.
The good puke on the other hand is beneficial in several ways. First, your body corrects the minor glitch that is occuring by expelling the bad stuff out swiftly regaining harmony from within. Secondly, the good puke allows the body of an over eager individual who has consumed a bit too much alcohol to say, "hey there big fella, you might want to slow down there a bit." A quick expulsion of the contents tells the over eager individual that the he is not good at being a sprinter when it comes to consumption. Thirdly, it had a rejuvenation quality about it. Like say you've been running and you push yourself too far. You puke when you hit that wall. Afterwards, you feel fresh again (maybe not in the mouth though) and can continue to run. I am not really sure why people run for entertainment. I see nothing fun about. Alas, that is a gripe for another blog.
My point today is I miss the good puke.

Proud of my poo

I realize that poo is by nature a disgusting byproduct of ourselves. I know it smells, it looks nasty and I would never be tempted to eat it. However, occasionally I marvel at the sheer size of some of my poos. Every now and again, I give birth to a turd that is mystical is nature. Yes, I look at my own poo. I think everyone does. They should if they don't already because you need to make sure you have a healthy poo. After all, healthy poo means a healthy you.
Back to the grand poo. Occasionally, I am at a lost for words at the size. I want to take pictures. I want to show someone so they too can stand in awe. It's like a hole-in-one in golf. If no one is there to witness such a thing, does it exist? I know this sound disgusting but I will bet money that at one point in time or another, every single person has had the same reaction to a foot long poo floating in the bowl; a bit of it sticking out like an iceberg lurking through the cold waters in the North Atlantic. It's satisfing is what it is. Physically and emotionally. You want to cry out, "Look what I have created!" If it weren't for the fact that it was poo, I would grab it and lift it above my head and call it "Kunta Kinte!"

Man up

I saw a near altercation today between 2 grown men crossing the street. Here is the situation: 2 men, morning rush hour, crossing a busy Manhattan street before the light changes again. There is a crowd of people all around them and I am behind them several people back walking in the same direction. 1 guy is a 30 something Asian man with headphones on. The other is a late 40 something white guy with strikingly disturbing white hair. I sense he is a real douche bag. In fact, I know he is a douche bag. Asian guy bumps into douche bag as they both cross. Douche mutters something to Asian guy. Asian guy continues to walk forward and mutter something back. The 2 men continue to walk forward and exchange verbal diatribes at each other without missing a step. Neither individual confronts the other other than to say a few snide remarks. This continues for half a block until they both enter the same building. Door holding does not happen. I walk on.
Why couldn't the Asian guy stop, turn around and be a man? Get in the guys face with your egg drop breath and tell the douche bag if a real problem exists or does he need to drop him like the balls on a 12 year old boy going through puberty. Get real for god's sake. Walking on and saying shit under your breath makes you look like the Far East Pussy that you are. The other guy is a total douche bag! I could smell his douchy ass 10 feet away. God, I hate Pussies and Assholes so much.

The Power of Nothing

Never under estimate the Power of Nothing. This is where if given the choice between doing something and doing nothing, you choose nothing. There are chores to be done. Doesn't matter. It's a beautiful day to be out side. Whatever. Big important meeting to prepare for. That's nice.
Any of those things are great time wasters but to decide to do nothing at all and sit on your scrawny little ass is sometimes better than doing all those things combined. I personally can spend hours on the couch or in the bed or even sprawled out on a floor somewhere letting my mind wonder. Sure, I might think of the chores I have to do or the big important meeting I have to prepare for but those are only fleeting minutes within the hours of mindless bliss. If I get into a zen like zone, I sometimes even forget what day it is. It's like being drunk but without the hangover.
This is why nap time in Kindergarten is the best time in a persons whole life. 1 hr of forced nothing time on a comfy rug. The very young have so much Power. We adults need to take this Power back and force all people everywhere to take a 1 hr nothing break. People should commit to doing nothing at some point everyday.

I miss slip 'n slide

I loved that shit from the 70's and 80's. I grew up during a time when you had metal roller skates that you put on the bottom of your sneaks. They were sharp and could cut an ankle quicker that a hot knife through butter but I didn't care. Safety precautions were never really an issue back then. Nobody wore helmets or pads when they rode a bike or skated down a neighborhood street. The only person you ever saw doing that was the retarded kid who lived on the corner. Even in the upscale neighborhood we lived in, playing with bricks and dirt and any other weird shit was more fun than playing with over priced Fisher Price crap. The only real fun outdoor toy was the slip 'n slide. We would lay that thing out on the lawn and go crazy for hours. It didn't even matter if the lawn was a well manicured one or not. Some of my friends had what looked more like a desert junkyard than a backyard. More gravelly than grassy. Didn't matter. We'd still lay that slide out and spend hours scraping knees, getting concussions, eating dirt. Fuck yeah that was a fun time!

Old People

Old people bother me. Not because of their advanced age though. I don't like them because they think that being elderly allowed them to get away with doing stupid shit. Having a conversation with the bus driver is a good example. I didn't realize that the 35 year old black male bus driver was best buddies with the 80 year old white woman with hairy legs. Apparently they are because she won't shut the fuck up.
Old Asian women are the worse. Try getting onto an elevator or a train seat once an old Asian woman wants the same thing. They will bite you to get there first. I've seen it. And did you ever notice that old Asian women look like Shar-Peis? Maybe I have an issue with old women. Old men don't really bother me as much. I can really only say that the way an old man dresses is bothersome. Next time you see an old man, look at the way he is dressed and tell me you don't want to throw a blanket over him so the rest of the world does not have to look at his poor fashion sense.
I know one day I too will get old as long as nothing kills me first. There will probably be a 30-something guy who sits on his computer or what ever type of technology they will be using in the future to spew mindless commentary on and rants about being bothered by my kind. That's ok. I'll just be waiting for the bastard on a random street corner one day with a blanket. I'll throw it over him so the rest of the world does not have to look at his poor fashion sense.

Just like me.

People have been asking about my new little spawn and I've told them all the same thing: "She is fairly predictable at this point. She eats, sleeps and poos. That's it". Ironically, I keep getting the same response: "That sound's like me." I then inform them all that they are the 4th, 5th, or 6th person to say that to me. You would think that people in a famous advertising agency would be a bit more creative but I guess not.

dizzy

I love watching little children put their foreheads to a bat handle with the fat part of the bat on the ground and spin around as fast as they can. To help them out I will usually count to 10 to make sure that the get a good amount of spinning done before they lift their little heads up. I like to yell at them playfully to run as fast as they can toward a particular spot. They then run and the fun begins. I laugh and laugh as they jerk this way and that, totally lost of any bearings due to the dizziness. It never gets old. I just had a daughter and one of the things I can not wait to do with her is this dizzy trick. I will get hours of amusement out of it.

A grapefruit out of something the size of a golf ball

I just brought a child into this world. Well, I didn't but my wife did. I'm not into the whole birthing thing per se. I watched her go through 2 hours of intense pushing to get basically no where. Then 5 minutes of suctioning the baby out like a stubborn cork out of a wine bottle. My wife was is tremendous pain and the baby had a coney head. I just get to stand there a photograph it for the future. That's the part I can do well. I can also feed via bottle or change diapers pretty well too. Then again, those chores are a wee bit less painful than the labor process. The funny thing is that my wife has already mentioned that a second one is not completely out of the question some time down the line. I don't know. I'm all for number 2 but after going through the passing through of number 1, I am not sure if that is the Percocet talking or the motherly instinct talking. I would think that after going through such an ordeal, another baby would not even be a thought. Goes to show you what I know. I'll just be there to photograph it.

Superiority complex

I have this theory.
As humans evolved from tree dwelling primates of a million years ago, we began to gradually lose the fur that covered our entire body. As time wore on we started to lose more and more. At one point we were completely covered from head to toe in fur. With the exception of our eyes, palms and soles of our feet, fur covered every square inch of our bodies. This was true for both male and female alike. Eventually, we lost the fur and graduated to hair. We were still pretty hairy as we evolved from Homo Habilis to Home Ergaster and then to Homo Erectus and beyond. Eventually, we became Homo Sapiens Sapiens, the species we are today. Today, we have lost most of our body hair and have plenty of skin showing to prove it.
My theory is that if we are constantly evolving and one of the side effects of this advancement is the loss of our fur/hair, then I believe that bald people are the most advanced humans on the planet. If this were to be true then why do so many bald guys have this inferiority complex? They should all have superiority complexes. The rest of us with full heads of hair are not as advanced as they are.

Home theater

I think the only reason I would ever get a huge house is so that I could put a home theater room in it. The kind you see on MTV Cribs. You would enter the room and there would be a dozen comfortable La-Z-Boy recliners and a big ass screen. I would have my own special chair just like on Cribs that no one is allowed to sit in. I would never go out to the movies again. I hate going to the movies. I hate dealing with people because they are rude, slovenly, low-brow types who think they own the theater. Chairs are being hit, noises are being made, wrappers crinkle incessantly. The absolute worst part of the movie theater experience is when people clap at the end. This isn't a broadway show or an opera performance! They can't even hear you asshole! Most of the time the clapping is for a movie that sucks anyway. I went to see 10,000 BC last night and at the end a few people clapped. Seriously?
In my private theater, no one claps and no one makes any noise. In fact, I'll watch all my movies by my self... naked. Yeah, that's right. I said naked. It's my theater and I can do whatever the hell I feel like.

Doorman

Even if it looks like the coziest, easiest job in the world I don't think I could be a doorman. Truth be told, they freak me out. They stand at the door and eye you as you walk by their building, sizing you up, taking mental notes. If I were a woman, I'd think they were visualizing me naked (If I were a woman, I'd be damn hot and expect everyone to visualize me naked).
I don't think the job entails too much. Open the door, smile. Sign for packages, smile. Call up when food arrives, smile. Take a bathroom break, smile. Visualize all women tenants naked, smile wider. I guess the only person who couldn't do the job is anyone with bad teeth. It would make the essential part of the job of smiling that much more difficult to accomplish well.
Sometimes there are 2 or 3 guys (It's always men. Why are there no door women?) standing there at the same time, all with those shit eating grins on having a mental gang bang at your expense. The worst part of all are the suits. Part Kaiser Military, part Russian Nutcracker. I'd be afraid that one day, they'd all join up and form an army of wooden soldiers and causing trouble. They wouldn't be there to open doors, sign for packages or undress you with their pervy eyes. It would be at that moment, I am convinced, that New York would fall apart.

So bad they're good.

I was watching American Pie Presents the Naked Mile, which is a quality movie BTW, and decided to look up the movie resume of the main midget in the film. Apparently, he was the bag of weed in Harold and Kumar as well as tie title character in Howard the Duck. I got to thinking about that movie and how awesomely bad it was. I continued the thought some more and reminisced about other movies that were so good because they were so bad. For the sake of keeping this blog under a thousand pages I will name but a few: Midnight Madness, 3 O'Clock High, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (would have been so much better if it was call Buffy the Nun Slayer), UHF, Just One of the Guys, anything with Jean-Claude Van Damme, The Perfect Weapon, Raw Deal (wait a minute, that one is just plain bad), Can't Buy Me Love, Gymkata, Clash of the Titans, Swamp Thing, Cloak & Dagger, Action Jackson, Towering Inferno, Flight of the Navigator, Cocoon II, Who Framed Rager Rabbit.
The list goes on and on.

The lazy eye

I love the lazy eye. I don't have one though. I'm not saying I want one either. I just think the lazy eye is a really funny thing. A professor in college I use to know had the lazy eye. Every class he would choose people in the room to answer a question and everytime they would always have the same reaction. The pupil would look to his or her left then to their right before finally turning back to the professor and saying, "me?". You see, it was hard to tell if he was looking at you or to the person on either side of you. You couldn't tell which eye was the good one and which was the lazy one. Interestingly, he never got fed up with people asking him whether they were the intended target of his question. He would always politely nod with a jovial smile as if to say, "of course I am picking on you my child."
I've come across several people in my life that had this condition. I never made fun of them or called them names. I never poked their lazy eye with a stick to see what reaction it would have. I would just laugh to myself on the inside. Kind of like I do when someone says "do do" out loud. "We don't make lollipops but we do do gum." If I can, like not during a conference call with a client but rather with a friend or store clerk, I stop the person in mid-sentence and question them: "You do do?" Then I laugh. Classic!

233

I've become addicted to the Nintendo Wii that is in my office game room. More than any other, I spend a lot of the time playing the bowling game. I've played some of the other sports but it's bowling that keeps my attention. While waiting for a friend of mine to finish her work so we could go out and drink for St. Pat's, I must have played 10 games in a row. At one point, I got into a zone and hit 6 strikes in a row, 7 in total. My final score was 233. I've never gotten that score either in the game or in real bowling before. The best part was, I didn't have to wear the fungus clown shoes and I didn't have to wait for a ball to return to me. The TV version has all of the benefits of the real version without the nasty sucky parts. And of course, every ball is the right size and the holes are not too small. I've always wondered about that actually. Whenever I went to a bowling alley, all the balls were too heavy and for people with tiny fingers. Who the fuck are these people who can support the weight of a 15lb. ball on match stick sized fingers? Dude!

Flava Flav!!!!

This is a dream I had the other night:
I'm at my apartment (which doesn't look like my apartment). Apparently there is an orgy going on and I'm not a part of it. My wife comes to me and tells me one of the guests was mean to her or something. I turn into Al Pacino and drag the guy outside to the elevator which has a jacuzzi next to it. I beat the shit out of him and come back inside. My bankers are there and they tell me to take all my money out of the bank and just hold onto it. The door opens and the cops have the dude who I beat up and are taking him downtown. I follow in my car. I am now riding along a city street and supposedly following my friends to a party but I lose them. I pull up to a Strip joint where they are suppose to be inside. I don't have any money to get in but the bouncer lets me in anyway. I tell the hostess that I am here to see friends and she directs me to a room in the back. I see about a dozen people there including Paris Hilton and Flava Flav. We hang out for a moment and as people are getting ready to leave I notice Paris coming on to me. I tell her, "I don't want to hook-up with you because I like us as we are now. As friends. I like when I come in to a room and you smile at me and I don't want to lose that." So Paris, my wife and I head to my new apartment which is a super swanky penthouse. Paris says she wants to go to the roof and check out the amazing city skyline view so we head on up. We get to the top and the view is amazing. The building is so big that we need to hop into a car and drive to the edge of the building for a better view. We don't stop the car however. We just cruise around and come back. On the way back we pass a small college where the students are having a crazy party. Students are hanging out of windows and beer is everywhere. We get back to the stairs. Instead of going back down Paris notices a sign that says there is a plumber one flight up. Nevermind that this is the roof. So I go upstairs and sure enough there is a small room for a plumber to work out of. The plumber is kneeling down, facing away fixing something. his plumber crack is showing. I wake up.

Can't touch this

When ever I sit on the subway I make a concious effort not to touch anything with my bare skin. I'll use a glove or a sleeve if I need to hang on but if I can help it, I don't put my bare skin on it. To justify my phobia I noticed today someone standing next to me picking his nose. Of course the first thing he reaches for after finding gold is the subway bar to hold on. Now, he's just one guy. However, I see him and I can't help but think of the millions of people a day that ride the subway and how many of them are searching for gold in their noses as well. They inevitably reach for a part of the subway car to hold on to. This is probably the grossest thing I can think of because these nasty people are out there and they are touching everything. I'm thinking of becoming a bubble boy. It might be the only way to avoid such problems in the future.

Nervous Laughter

This is a pet peeve of mine. Someone makes a bad joke and adds a 2 second bout of nervous laughter followed by, "ummm" before continuing their conversation. I've noticed that fat chicks do this the most. I'm not sure whether their being fat is the reason for this annoyance but I just tend to notice this odd coincidence.
I make it a point never to laugh at my own jokes or heaven forbid, add the nervous laughter with an annoying, "ummm" after it. I'm not saying that I nail the joke everytime. I don't think anyone can be funny all the time. I'm just saying that if you attempt a little bit of humor, let it be because you are actually saying something funny. Adding emphasis through retarded after laughter will not help. It just makes you look like an unfunny fat girl. That's all I'm sayin'.

Space

I was watching a show yesterday on TV about what a certain price will get you in terms of living space in different locations around the U.S.
For instance, $600,000 in Phoenix, AZ gets you a nice 4 bedroom adobe house. In Charleston, NC it also gets you a lovely 4 bedroom house with a nice size yard. In NYC it gets you an alcove studio. That last one totally sucks but as they say, you 're paying for location. I refuse however, to pay that much for a studio. I don't care what the market rate is (in case you're wondering it is currently hovering around $1000 per sq. foot). I thought the other houses were very nice but then I got to thinking, what the hell would I do in Charleston or Phoenix? In Charleston I would be surrounded by Hee-Haw types and in Phoenix I would just sweat.
Then I got to more thinking, how much money would I need to live comfortably in either of these 3 places. The answer: $3,000,000. This is not me talking, this was the TV talking. For $3 million bucks you get lavish houses with pools or ocean views in Phoenix or Charleston respectively. In NYC you get 2 beds and a shit load of marble. One realtor called this dollar amount the amount you need to obtain the "Wow!" factor. To me, all those amenities are cool but a real "Wow!" factor is when I pay $3 million and the house comes with a something that maybe ex Governor Spitzer might pay for. At times like that, I'm glad I'm not in politics.

Let's Break Some Springs!

Is there anything more wonderful that going on Spring Break? I personally wouldn't know. I spent my spring break at college going home, visiting my girlfriend or doing nothing at all. I have sometimes envied my peers as I listened to their tales of debauchery and recklessness. Consuming enough cheap beer that could kill an average sized moose. Hitting on girls that had this been any other situation in any other location would never even have looked at you otherwise... and scoring with them. Doing stupid things like streaking through an authentic taco stand in the middle of the night in a small Mexican town that you can't or care not to pronounce.
I envy these good times.
What sucks though is going to a place to enjoy spring break and finding something different. A colleague of mine told me a nice story of going to Florida with 2 married friends and a bachelor for his party and the first night was in a bar where the mullet and not $10 was your entry fee. Some patrons had teeth that would make even a grown man cry. I could only imagine the sight of this place upon walking in. I felt bad for him but I knew that at the very least, he could rally these mullet-wearing, Meister Chow chugging, teethless yokels to streak around the bar and yell out over and over, "Spring Break, Spring Break!!!"

In Between

I get a kick out of being in that state where you aren't quite awake and you're not fully asleep. It's a great way to hallucinate without taking any drugs. You're in a really boring class, right, and you start to doze off but you're trying not to fall asleep. If you fall asleep in class, especially in a big class, it's ok. The problem is when sometimes you awake and you jerk quickly and your shit flies every where. Funny if it isn't you this happens to but but sucks big time if it is you.
Anyway, you're dozing off and you are trying to stay awake but not staying fully awake. You start to hear things and see things differently. You're riding a rainbow wave with tongues and everything is red. Hands are clapping solo and it's raining ice cream. Strangely, everything makes sense as you let the moment and the rainbow carry you forward. Unfortunately, nothing lasts and you are brought back to reality by someone in the room answering a question near you. Still disoriented you blurt out, "The tongues are stealing my ice creams!" unaware that this information has no relevance in your Near Eastern Judaic Studies class. It's definitely more embarassing than a little spasmic jerk and a fly of the books. But your little episode will go down in history as the Ice Cream incident and you'll be famous around school. Now that's pretty sweet.

Super Powers

I tend to believe that everyone thinks about having super powers. It's like people having theme songs. Mine for instance is the theme to Sanford and Son. Everybody has a different one though. People have different ideas what their special super power is. Some want to fly, others to be invisible. Those are great super powers, don't get me wrong. I'd like to have those too. But I won't choose either of those as my number one super power. I think if I had the choice I would choose the ability to make people play strip poker. If I'm in a bar with a lot of hot chicks, I'll make them want to play strip poker. I'll have a few token guys there for the girls to get excited about but the ratio would work totally in my favor. And of course I would always win but I would make it look like I almost lost just to keep things interesting. I'm not sure what I would call myself but I like "The Strip Poker". It works on several levels there for... awesome.

Free Stuff

I like free stuff. My motto is, "If it's free take it, unless it gives you a disease." I feel that if you can have something that you didn't have before and not give anything up for it, why not take it. My favorite free stuff is free lunch. Offices are notorious for having free food around. Sometimes it's pretty decent stuff. Today there were sandwiches and cookies. Decent stuff. Sometimes it sucks. Leftover salad. Still other times you hit the jackpot. Big client meeting and the Filet Mignon, Sushi, or Caviar have been left for the scavengers to pick at when the meeting is over. Most of the time I take it. Other times, if it looks like it has been sitting out for a while, I listen to my own rule. If it might give me a disease, I don't take it. Raw fish can get quite gamey by 3PM.

The God Channel

I don't watch the God Channel. I'm not sure I can even figure it out. Whenever I flip through the TV, trying to find some, anything good to watch, I usually have to go past the God Channel. I have this feature on my TV where I can block stations if I don't feel like having it on while I surf randomly. I've eliminated every Korean, Chinese, Spanish and Indian channel I can. I've even eliminated CSPAN. Not really into dumb people standing around and talking to each other on live TV.
I haven't eliminated the God Channel though. It's not that I'm religious; in fact I'm far from it. I guess I am just in awe of the programming. Some of it is bad. Some of it is really, really bad. And some of it makes me laugh. I guess it's because when you flip onto a channel that sings the praise of the supposed Lord all mighty, you're not expecting it to be so low budget and creepy. I wish God would come down and smite the producers. Thou Shalt Not Suck!!!
I mean, it is his channel after all. He should do it on principle. No wonder people today are losing faith or changing their faith more and more. With so much over production of Reality TV, the low budget God Channel just gets lost and ultimately goes unwatched. God doesn't stand a chance against American Gladiators or My Dad is Better Than Your Dad.

Paper clips

I had a friend in High School whose last name was Lee. Another friend and I would spend hours each day in the middle of class taking perfectly good paper clips and bending them so that we could form the word "Lee" is script.
Hundreds a day.
At the end of each day, my friend and I would put all the "Lee" clips in Mr. Lee's locker throught the slits at the top. This would take about 5-10 minutes or so. Time well spent.
Every morning, Mr. Lee would come to school, open his locker and have these little twisted paper clips come tumbling out all over the floor. He would curse and stomp his feet. This amused us to no end. The best part was that some of the clips would get lost in his locker. On the off chance we missed a day to put new ones in, there would always be one or two that would be shaken loose when Mr. Lee reached for his books.
He often told us to stop. That was so not happening.
I have another person named Lee in my office these days. I would love to bring these shinanagans back for my own personal amusement. Unfortunately, two things stop me from doing this. 1: He does not have a locker and I don't feel putting them under a door will have the same effect. 2: He has a much, much higher position than me in the company and therefore I could be fired. That last one would be a real buzz kill.

I was there, I was there.

If I take pictures of a place or thing or whatever, I take it because I want to have my own memory of being there. Why do people have to put themselves in the photo in front of the place or thing or whatever? I know you were there, you took the picture. The only thing I see in this picture is you blocking whatever it you mean to take a picture of. I feel like saying, " Hi monkey. Hi. Oooh, there's the monkey again. Monkey in front of tower, monkey in front of building. There's the monkey in front of a real monkey. The real monkey just shat on you ya monkey." That might be the only picture I would want to see a person in. Monkeys pooing on people is just downright hilarious.

Use it wisely

I'm all for smoking weed. I'm not going to tell you that getting high all the time is a good thing but if you use it occasionally, it has stimulating properties. It's mental exercise. At least I think so. I'm not gonna tell you do it or don't do it. Not my purpose here. I'm just going to advocate using it wisely. A sweet unexpected adventure is cool. Sitting on your couch watching American Gladiators, not so much.
I think a good time would be showing up at a random party in a Brooklyn loft owned by a friend of a friend of a neighbor. You're stoned out of your mind as you walk into a large place with a unique layout that leaves you excited about the confines within. The walls are covered in a loose hanging, dark colored velvet tapestry. The lights are on but dim enough to notice the people you pass as you enter the loft but unsure of any distinctive facial features. The music in the background is a cross of old skool rap from the Sugar Hill Gang and new wave downbeat electronica, possibly Zero 7 or Morcheeba. Someone, you aren't sure who, passes you a bottle of beer, which you are happy to get as the slight twinge of cotton mouth due to the pot is slowly settling into the corners of your mouth. The rest of the night is blur of faces, tunes and the occasional puff of someone elses joint to keep you floating in the space between sobriety and pot hangover. Waking up the next morning, not quite sure of the exact way you got home, the thought of the previous night's joyous revelry enters you mind... that's how you're suppose to roll.

Doo York City

I hate having to walk to work in the freezing cold. I started walking to work when I moved back into the City. It's probably the only exercise I get all day. That and the 2 times a day on average I go to the bathroom. When it is really cold, I brave it and turn up at work feeling like I've been working in a Siberian Slave camp.
Still, it's not the cold that bothers me the most during these walks. That distinction goes to the frozen dog shit that people forget/to lazy to pick up after their cherished pooches. Poo from a little Pomeranian doesn't really leave to big a mess and therefore, although not totally acceptable, is not too bad. No, it's the poo from the Shepard/Bernard variety I have issues with. Most of the time I avoid the hot zone of these scatological mine fields. However, there is an occasional "slip-up" and I wind up having to clean off my shoe later, assuming I even realize I've been victimized before I walk into my apartment.
We should teach these dogs to use a bathroom like we do. It would really be better for all involved if they could learn this courteous technique . Plus, like myself, it would give them two places to get their daily exercise.

What ever you say you are, you're not.

I was thinking about something yesterday as I read Page Six in the Post (yeah, whatever). I sometimes read about hot women, be they models, actresses, or models who think they're actresses who say that they are big nerds in their regular lives.
What's up with that?
They'll say stuff like, "Yeah, I get to go to the coolest parties and travel to exotic locales but when I'm home, laying on my couch by myself, I'm just a regular nerd doing nerdy stuff."
There has got to be some contradictory of terms somewhere in that statement.
I think that maybe this is the reason nightlife hotspots like Duvet and Bed were created. It gives models, actresses, or models who think they're actresses places to go that intertwine there cool, exotic lives with their inner nerdy cores. They can lay down in trendy places and just be regular nerds doing nerdy stuff.

Anticipation

I was gonna wait until my lunch time to post a new blog but apparently I have 1 fan and the wait was driving him mental. So I am posting an hour earlier. The pressure may cause this post to be less than stellar though. I blame my 1 fan.
I have to confess my addiction to Scrabulous in this post. It's not crack but the rush is just as good. It ties nicely into the title of this particular day's blog. I love the anticipation of making my next turn during a game (I currently have 9 games open although some people are apparently not addicted to this game and don't play all the time. I don't complete understand why they don't. Maybe they like crack instead). A 7-letter bingo is practically orgasmic. I don't actually ruin my underwear but I feel that if I ever get a triple digit bingo, I might do it. Happily.
I don't think I have a problem but if I do then that's...ok. Maybe one day I'll wind up in SA (not the Nazi Sturmabeilung Storm troopers... Scrabulous Anomymous... that's a great band name) and meet others like me. I'll complete the 12 steps and stop playing altogether. Some time in the future I'll probably be at a party and someone will break out there old scrabble board game. I'll be asked if I want to participate and politely but firmly decline. I'll be content to sit there and watch others enjoy a game that I once felt very passionate about. It will be a small price to pay but a healthy one.

starting a blog

I was speaking to some people here in the office and they suggested a blog. So here is my first entry. I'm sure more profound things will come to me as time goes on but for now, I wanted to get the ball rolling. I'll start with this: Why do people insist on going out in public with bed head? Is it laziness? The inability to care what one looks like? A reminder of mind blowing sex just had a couple of hours prior? I guess that last one would be ok. But any other excuse is inexcusable.