"They should rename that movie...Love Actually doesn't exist so go jump out a sixth story window on 71st."
Colin Dools
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
12-18/The Corner Bar
His watch hinted that it was 5:29, but he was unable to tell exactly. Only the 12, 3, 6, and 9's were visible and in between them, plain tick marks stood where the other increments of five would stand. So, the minute hand, nestled up next to the 6, gave him the impression he had 4 minutes left to make the 5:33.
Four minutes to get to track 19. Lots of bags. Lots of people. Get to the train.
Popcorn?
Ok.
Lots of bags, lots of people, and popcorn now accompanied him to track 19. Last call for the 5:33.
"How can that be?" he thought, and lifted his left hand towards his face dumping 33 cents of the dollar popcorn down his arm and into his Foot Locker bag. As the popcorn fell, piece by piece like rain onto the gray New York Giants Athletic Dept T-Shirt that he purchased, he was more worried about the kernels that hit the floor.
Should he pick it up, or leave it. Snickers from nearby. A balding man with a mustache in a red reindeer sweater with reading glasses on his nose looked on, hands behind his back. The man was fascinated by what happened, looking on like an old man would stand and watch a construction site. The man looked on with anticipation, glancing quickly between the floor and his face.
All of this happening within seconds, he decided to run for the train. Feeling bad for leaving the mess, he also felt like a bad-ass for leaving it, even though in the grand scheme it was such a trivial faux-pas.
He ran down the steps toward the track, his feet like a jackhammer, pit pat pit pat pit pat down the steps. Behind him, the ruffle of bags, and another 33 percent of his popcorn followed, gracing the steps of track 19 like flowers from a flower girl.
The bing bong of the train alerted to the imminent closing of the doors. He lept off of the fourth step from the bottom, tumbling down onto the main level of the track. Leaving the last third of that wonderful popcorn, he jumped into the train as the doors closed. As the doors shut, one bag remained outside of the train, almost planned like a bad movie scene. Damn Giants shirt.
"Oh come on," he muttered audibly, emphasizing the word 'on'. A short Chinese woman with oval glasses looked on. It was the Giants shirt and popcorn showered bag that was trapped, and the popcorn could be heard cracking and crumbling into the shirt. Enduring only a half second of asphyxiation, the door released the bag and reshut.
The woman stared at him without shame. Embarrassed and sweating a bit, he made his way through the car. All the forward facing seats were occupied, but he would rather stand than sit backwards. Realizing this in the middle of the car, he looked at his watch again (pretending like he had to be somewhere) and about-faced back to the doorway area standing room. As he turned, the bag with the Giants shirt hit a 20 something brunette girl on the phone, who loudly told the other party,
"Some big guy just hit me with a bag."
Sorry.
Realizing that the look-at-the-watch-turn-around-and-pretend-that-you-knew-where-you-were-going-but-just-changed-your-mind-and-turned-around-move was useless on a fucking train, he sped up his short journey back to the Chinese woman. The train sped up as well, knocking him off his balance and onto the door of the lavatory. Settling in to the corner of the wall and the door, he dropped the bags and just stood. The bathroom door opened, and a man stepped out, looking at the Chinese woman, who then looked at him in the corner. The man followed her glance to his face, when the man gave him a dirty look.
"It's all yours now, bro."
"I....." the man walked away and sat next to the 20s something brunette.
The Chinese woman stared at him, almost as if she was waiting for an answer to an unasked question, mouth slightly open.
As the train slowed to it's first stop, the girl appeared. He saw her briefly sitting backwards, during his parade through the car. But he only saw her like when a person is driving on the highway and notices a car with only one headlight driving the opposite way. Its there, I noticed it, there it goes.
Her hair was dark, but not black. It was up. Eyes were green, glasses were thin. Black coat buttoned to the top. Hands in pockets. Slightly heeled boots clicking toward him, eyes locked. The train jolted as it slowed, but she was unaffected. His lean against the door broke with the negative force of gravity, and slammed back with a dulled thud.
As the train slowed and stopped, she perfectly timed her walk to not have to wait for the door to open. Five feet away the doors opened, 3 feet away she took her left hand out, 2 feet away she handed him a business card, 1 foot away she put her hand back in her pocket and walked out.
His hand felt like plastic holding the card, until the cold air of the outside surrounded it, blowing through his fingers. He looked stunned, he felt stunned. As the doors shut, he put the card into his pocket, along with his hands and stared at the floor. A smile curved his mouth, and with an eyebrow slightly raised he slowly lifted his head.
As his head slowly rose it initiated a turn to the Chinese woman who's face remained stoic, but her eyes stemmed with excitement. She leaned a little more forward now, still waiting for the reply to the unasked question. His face met hers, and he winked. Her head jerked forward, with a slight dilating of her eyes. Just then the next stop came, and the woman walked out, hands clasped in front of her with a bag on her wrist. She was in no hurry at all.
Feeling vindication from his foolery of the past 20 minutes he popped his collar in anticipation of the arrival to his stop. Grabbing the bags, and slinging his Macy's handled paper bag over his shoulder, he walked out of the train with a swagger.
As he walked into the house, he dumped his bags on to the kitchen floor. Grabbing the Foot Locker bag from the bottom, he shook the contents out onto the floor. Thirty three percent of his uneaten popcorn, a spotty greased Giants shirt, and a receipt dropped out. The receipt floated down to the other contents, who waited on it to join them on the floor. He thought about eating some of the kernels.
Unfazed by the gray and yellow art that was creating a havoc of rubbish on the tiled kitchen floor, he reached for his phone.
"Dude, I cant come tonight. I have a date."
"What. How?"
"This beautiful girl on the train gave me her card."
"Whats her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where does she work?
"I don't know."
"What does the card say?"
"I don't know. I just put it in my pocket and haven't looked at it."
"Did you make plans to hang out on the train?"
"No."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"So how are you going out with her?"
"I'm going to call her now."
"Wait, you can't call her. You have to wait. Look at the card and tell me her name at least."
He had been flipping the business card in his pocket through his middle finger, forefinger, and thumb as they spoke. He pulled it out and looked. It was white. Holding the card between his forefinger and middle finger, he flicked his wrist flipping to the front of the card.
"I bet her name is Bertha. or Grace. Grace really isn't a bad name I guess. It would funny if it was Gertrude. I wonder how many chicks born after 1980 are named Gertrude. What does it say bro."
He stared silently at the scribbled handwritten word on the otherwise blank card.
LOSER
"Are you there?"
"I guess I am going out with you guys tonight."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Nothing, I cant find it."
"WHAT A DICK, OH MAN, YOU'RE A DICK DUDE!"
"Yup"
ck
Four minutes to get to track 19. Lots of bags. Lots of people. Get to the train.
Popcorn?
Ok.
Lots of bags, lots of people, and popcorn now accompanied him to track 19. Last call for the 5:33.
"How can that be?" he thought, and lifted his left hand towards his face dumping 33 cents of the dollar popcorn down his arm and into his Foot Locker bag. As the popcorn fell, piece by piece like rain onto the gray New York Giants Athletic Dept T-Shirt that he purchased, he was more worried about the kernels that hit the floor.
Should he pick it up, or leave it. Snickers from nearby. A balding man with a mustache in a red reindeer sweater with reading glasses on his nose looked on, hands behind his back. The man was fascinated by what happened, looking on like an old man would stand and watch a construction site. The man looked on with anticipation, glancing quickly between the floor and his face.
All of this happening within seconds, he decided to run for the train. Feeling bad for leaving the mess, he also felt like a bad-ass for leaving it, even though in the grand scheme it was such a trivial faux-pas.
He ran down the steps toward the track, his feet like a jackhammer, pit pat pit pat pit pat down the steps. Behind him, the ruffle of bags, and another 33 percent of his popcorn followed, gracing the steps of track 19 like flowers from a flower girl.
The bing bong of the train alerted to the imminent closing of the doors. He lept off of the fourth step from the bottom, tumbling down onto the main level of the track. Leaving the last third of that wonderful popcorn, he jumped into the train as the doors closed. As the doors shut, one bag remained outside of the train, almost planned like a bad movie scene. Damn Giants shirt.
"Oh come on," he muttered audibly, emphasizing the word 'on'. A short Chinese woman with oval glasses looked on. It was the Giants shirt and popcorn showered bag that was trapped, and the popcorn could be heard cracking and crumbling into the shirt. Enduring only a half second of asphyxiation, the door released the bag and reshut.
The woman stared at him without shame. Embarrassed and sweating a bit, he made his way through the car. All the forward facing seats were occupied, but he would rather stand than sit backwards. Realizing this in the middle of the car, he looked at his watch again (pretending like he had to be somewhere) and about-faced back to the doorway area standing room. As he turned, the bag with the Giants shirt hit a 20 something brunette girl on the phone, who loudly told the other party,
"Some big guy just hit me with a bag."
Sorry.
Realizing that the look-at-the-watch-turn-around-and-pretend-that-you-knew-where-you-were-going-but-just-changed-your-mind-and-turned-around-move was useless on a fucking train, he sped up his short journey back to the Chinese woman. The train sped up as well, knocking him off his balance and onto the door of the lavatory. Settling in to the corner of the wall and the door, he dropped the bags and just stood. The bathroom door opened, and a man stepped out, looking at the Chinese woman, who then looked at him in the corner. The man followed her glance to his face, when the man gave him a dirty look.
"It's all yours now, bro."
"I....." the man walked away and sat next to the 20s something brunette.
The Chinese woman stared at him, almost as if she was waiting for an answer to an unasked question, mouth slightly open.
As the train slowed to it's first stop, the girl appeared. He saw her briefly sitting backwards, during his parade through the car. But he only saw her like when a person is driving on the highway and notices a car with only one headlight driving the opposite way. Its there, I noticed it, there it goes.
Her hair was dark, but not black. It was up. Eyes were green, glasses were thin. Black coat buttoned to the top. Hands in pockets. Slightly heeled boots clicking toward him, eyes locked. The train jolted as it slowed, but she was unaffected. His lean against the door broke with the negative force of gravity, and slammed back with a dulled thud.
As the train slowed and stopped, she perfectly timed her walk to not have to wait for the door to open. Five feet away the doors opened, 3 feet away she took her left hand out, 2 feet away she handed him a business card, 1 foot away she put her hand back in her pocket and walked out.
His hand felt like plastic holding the card, until the cold air of the outside surrounded it, blowing through his fingers. He looked stunned, he felt stunned. As the doors shut, he put the card into his pocket, along with his hands and stared at the floor. A smile curved his mouth, and with an eyebrow slightly raised he slowly lifted his head.
As his head slowly rose it initiated a turn to the Chinese woman who's face remained stoic, but her eyes stemmed with excitement. She leaned a little more forward now, still waiting for the reply to the unasked question. His face met hers, and he winked. Her head jerked forward, with a slight dilating of her eyes. Just then the next stop came, and the woman walked out, hands clasped in front of her with a bag on her wrist. She was in no hurry at all.
Feeling vindication from his foolery of the past 20 minutes he popped his collar in anticipation of the arrival to his stop. Grabbing the bags, and slinging his Macy's handled paper bag over his shoulder, he walked out of the train with a swagger.
As he walked into the house, he dumped his bags on to the kitchen floor. Grabbing the Foot Locker bag from the bottom, he shook the contents out onto the floor. Thirty three percent of his uneaten popcorn, a spotty greased Giants shirt, and a receipt dropped out. The receipt floated down to the other contents, who waited on it to join them on the floor. He thought about eating some of the kernels.
Unfazed by the gray and yellow art that was creating a havoc of rubbish on the tiled kitchen floor, he reached for his phone.
"Dude, I cant come tonight. I have a date."
"What. How?"
"This beautiful girl on the train gave me her card."
"Whats her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where does she work?
"I don't know."
"What does the card say?"
"I don't know. I just put it in my pocket and haven't looked at it."
"Did you make plans to hang out on the train?"
"No."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"So how are you going out with her?"
"I'm going to call her now."
"Wait, you can't call her. You have to wait. Look at the card and tell me her name at least."
He had been flipping the business card in his pocket through his middle finger, forefinger, and thumb as they spoke. He pulled it out and looked. It was white. Holding the card between his forefinger and middle finger, he flicked his wrist flipping to the front of the card.
"I bet her name is Bertha. or Grace. Grace really isn't a bad name I guess. It would funny if it was Gertrude. I wonder how many chicks born after 1980 are named Gertrude. What does it say bro."
He stared silently at the scribbled handwritten word on the otherwise blank card.
LOSER
"Are you there?"
"I guess I am going out with you guys tonight."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Nothing, I cant find it."
"WHAT A DICK, OH MAN, YOU'RE A DICK DUDE!"
"Yup"
ck
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
12-12/Picture of the Week
If you look closely, you can see this week's homework assignment on my forehead.
ck
12-12/Must See TV
I had been concerned with the recent episodes of "the Office" on NBC. I was thinking that the writing was starting to lack, but last night's Christmas episode was very entertaining.
Even though Andy's story line is at the top, his role in the episode was tertiary, at best. He stole the show with his three scenes though. His face was priceless when Jim walked in as he was jamming out on the sitar, and my other favorite part was his soliloquy on college drinking.
"I got straight B's. They used to call me Buzz."
It was followed by a clever "30 Rock" as always, with that beautiful and sexy Tina Fey. Humina Humina.. Favorite Line : Liz brings the box of Christmas Letters, Tracy says in white guy voice, "Are they Christmas Sweaters?"
Back in the days of Seinfeld and Friends, NBC really was the premiere sitcom network. Seinfeld will always live in infamy, and especially for me, now that I am older and can understand more of the jokes. It took 10 years of me laughing along until I finally understood what "the contest" is about. Now I "laugh along" with myself 3 or 4 times a day.
The episode of where Jerry can't remember her name, but it sounds like a part of the female anatomy - I had no idea. The sponge - no clue. The counterclockwise swirl - huh? In my water cooler circles (equivalent of me and Steve on 2nd Free having an egg sandwich in the cafeteria) when Seinfeld was discussed I'd have to interject with,
"How about that Lowell, for someone so dumb how does he fix those planes?"
"That Roy Biguns and his El Camino, classic."
Friends and their 90's hipster motif was just too annoying for me. I certainly sat back and waited to see if Ross and Rachel would get back together. Oh that day that Ross was outside the coffeehouse in the rain and they had their first kiss, mmmm. I ate that shit up.
But the 90's crap wore thin with me, which makes it even more difficult to watch now - the reason why I don't. Joey and his turtlenecks with black jeans now give me dusche-chills. The only classy ones on that show were Ross and Chandler, who had nice jobs, and wore suits - but Chandler would mess it up with an occasional no-collar button down shirt.
It's nice to be new and clean. I like the fashion better these days. The only classy time in our recent histories has to be from the 40's to early 60's. Wearing suits all day, and a derby, then progressing to the suit with the thin tie, was just wonderful. Then it just got weird with the pot smokers, those Mexican shawls, and then the afros.
I'm sure those bellbottoms and puffy pubic regions were sexy.
ck
Even though Andy's story line is at the top, his role in the episode was tertiary, at best. He stole the show with his three scenes though. His face was priceless when Jim walked in as he was jamming out on the sitar, and my other favorite part was his soliloquy on college drinking.
"I got straight B's. They used to call me Buzz."
It was followed by a clever "30 Rock" as always, with that beautiful and sexy Tina Fey. Humina Humina.. Favorite Line : Liz brings the box of Christmas Letters, Tracy says in white guy voice, "Are they Christmas Sweaters?"
Back in the days of Seinfeld and Friends, NBC really was the premiere sitcom network. Seinfeld will always live in infamy, and especially for me, now that I am older and can understand more of the jokes. It took 10 years of me laughing along until I finally understood what "the contest" is about. Now I "laugh along" with myself 3 or 4 times a day.
The episode of where Jerry can't remember her name, but it sounds like a part of the female anatomy - I had no idea. The sponge - no clue. The counterclockwise swirl - huh? In my water cooler circles (equivalent of me and Steve on 2nd Free having an egg sandwich in the cafeteria) when Seinfeld was discussed I'd have to interject with,
"How about that Lowell, for someone so dumb how does he fix those planes?"
"That Roy Biguns and his El Camino, classic."
Friends and their 90's hipster motif was just too annoying for me. I certainly sat back and waited to see if Ross and Rachel would get back together. Oh that day that Ross was outside the coffeehouse in the rain and they had their first kiss, mmmm. I ate that shit up.
But the 90's crap wore thin with me, which makes it even more difficult to watch now - the reason why I don't. Joey and his turtlenecks with black jeans now give me dusche-chills. The only classy ones on that show were Ross and Chandler, who had nice jobs, and wore suits - but Chandler would mess it up with an occasional no-collar button down shirt.
It's nice to be new and clean. I like the fashion better these days. The only classy time in our recent histories has to be from the 40's to early 60's. Wearing suits all day, and a derby, then progressing to the suit with the thin tie, was just wonderful. Then it just got weird with the pot smokers, those Mexican shawls, and then the afros.
I'm sure those bellbottoms and puffy pubic regions were sexy.
ck
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
12-9/Winter Meetings
Major League Baseball's winter meetings are being held this week in Las Vegas. With temperatures not rising past 68, it appears alot of the down time will have to spent indoors, or maybe actually doing work.
Dr Beeper, "Must be a nice change from dreary, old Manhattan."
I hope Scott Boras is racing Brian Cashman to the pool, Ray Ban Sunglasses on the neon green holder flapping around their necks. A shirtless Cashman with white suntan lotion on his nose, has his Corona beach towel around his shoulders ready to jump in the pool. How sad it will be when it it just too cold to enjoy. So they both will retire to their rooms to watch "Anchorman" on pay per view.
I wonder if behind the scenes Trevor Hoffman is making his own rendition of "Hoffman's 11," where he will steal money from the Bellagio and hold it ransom for a job.
I hope Scott Boras is racing Brian Cashman to the pool, Ray Ban Sunglasses on the neon green holder flapping around their necks. A shirtless Cashman with white suntan lotion on his nose, has his Corona beach towel around his shoulders ready to jump in the pool. How sad it will be when it it just too cold to enjoy. So they both will retire to their rooms to watch "Anchorman" on pay per view.
I wonder if behind the scenes Trevor Hoffman is making his own rendition of "Hoffman's 11," where he will steal money from the Bellagio and hold it ransom for a job.
Ricky Henderson would be Hoffman's Frank Catton (Bernie Mac). I know he would recreate the scene with Matt Damon perfectly where he says, "You want me to get up on the table and dance for you? Shine your shoes? Smile atchu?"
I think Josh Hamilton would make a good Rusty Ryan. Maybe he reminds me more of Tyler Durden. Oh, well.
John Kruk would have to be Rueben Tischkoff, only because in my mind I can see him acting that way on purpose with his chesthair out as a goof. "Get in the gaawwwddammm howwws."
I think Josh Hamilton would make a good Rusty Ryan. Maybe he reminds me more of Tyler Durden. Oh, well.
John Kruk would have to be Rueben Tischkoff, only because in my mind I can see him acting that way on purpose with his chesthair out as a goof. "Get in the gaawwwddammm howwws."
adult swim's aqua teen hunger force rendition of Kruk.
Omar Vizquel looks like Livingston, the computer nerd. Omar seems like the type of guy that could give a shit about computers, though.
Don Cheadle's Basher should be played by Tim Meadows just because I think it would be funny.
I wonder if any business goes down at the strip clubs. I'd like to see Omar Minaya making a big deal while getting a lapdance. It would be great with his Latin flavor to say something dirty in Spanish and then look over at K-Rod in a compromising position, and says,
"#**#&#^%#%$^#%$^#%# !" and they both laugh.
K-Rod translation, " I hope they are even hotter at Gallager's!"
Omar translation "And I know the DJ!!!!"
ck
Saturday, December 6, 2008
12-6/Picture of the Week
"If you dont want to dance with Colin, you and your purple hair can take a hike!"
ck
Friday, December 5, 2008
12-5/Omi the Magnificent
Today is the two year anniversary of Omi's passing. Here's a story of her greatness.
In high school, I decided to concentrate on "my studies," so I never played Prep baseball. Because I could have, you know. They wanted me. Really. Seriously.
Anyway, while concentrating on my studies, and driving around Bayside looking for the perfect slice of pizza, I decided to satiate my baseball needs by playing summer ball. Of course it was a team made up of anyone from Bayside Little League who wanted to play, but I would tell everyone,
"It's a travel team." sniff, serious face.
It was also my living proof of why I didn't play baseball in High School. It has nothing to do with me being scared of not finishing the running portion of the tryouts, or Brother Michael with the red hair. Either way, if I didn't spend all that extra time studying and not playing High School ball, I'd never be where I am today.
(Highlights - I make fresh pizza dough and cook for my mommy. Reminds me of when Robbie Hart tells Julia in the Wedding Singer,
"No, you're the best." julia
"At what? People eat prime rib and I sing." Robbie )
When people ask me if I played High School, I always say no, but I played on an elite [voluntary] travel team.
When they ask me where we played, I'd say - all over queens. [behind waldbaum's in college point]
Where Omi came in.
Omi and Opi would come to alot of games. And Omi was there when I had a little wardrobe malfunction. Every year we would get these cotton 2 button jerseys that fit, eh, ok. This summer, particularly, the jersey was real crap. They were a combination of silk and rubber, almost. The worst part about it was that it was very, um, "body conforming..."
Omi came to the rescue. I gave her the jersey one day, and with material from past jerseys, she actually built in extensions to the sides of the jersey. It was alot like a hockey goalie's jersey which had this to accommodate the extra room needed for equipment. By cutting up the seams on the sides, she inserted these extra pieces of old jerseys, giving me some nice breathing room in the front.
The jersey itself looked like a car that had been in an accident, and the doors only repainted, but hot damn, was I comfy.
Now when the hot dog/soda truck would show up, I would have no trouble doing what I do best.
I hope you can still watch me play baseball in Heaven. But turn it off when I get home, or when I get near a buffet. Ill be sure to start using that ab roller from Christmas '03 real soon.
With love.
ck
In high school, I decided to concentrate on "my studies," so I never played Prep baseball. Because I could have, you know. They wanted me. Really. Seriously.
Anyway, while concentrating on my studies, and driving around Bayside looking for the perfect slice of pizza, I decided to satiate my baseball needs by playing summer ball. Of course it was a team made up of anyone from Bayside Little League who wanted to play, but I would tell everyone,
"It's a travel team." sniff, serious face.
It was also my living proof of why I didn't play baseball in High School. It has nothing to do with me being scared of not finishing the running portion of the tryouts, or Brother Michael with the red hair. Either way, if I didn't spend all that extra time studying and not playing High School ball, I'd never be where I am today.
(Highlights - I make fresh pizza dough and cook for my mommy. Reminds me of when Robbie Hart tells Julia in the Wedding Singer,
"No, you're the best." julia
"At what? People eat prime rib and I sing." Robbie )
When people ask me if I played High School, I always say no, but I played on an elite [voluntary] travel team.
When they ask me where we played, I'd say - all over queens. [behind waldbaum's in college point]
Where Omi came in.
Omi and Opi would come to alot of games. And Omi was there when I had a little wardrobe malfunction. Every year we would get these cotton 2 button jerseys that fit, eh, ok. This summer, particularly, the jersey was real crap. They were a combination of silk and rubber, almost. The worst part about it was that it was very, um, "body conforming..."
Omi came to the rescue. I gave her the jersey one day, and with material from past jerseys, she actually built in extensions to the sides of the jersey. It was alot like a hockey goalie's jersey which had this to accommodate the extra room needed for equipment. By cutting up the seams on the sides, she inserted these extra pieces of old jerseys, giving me some nice breathing room in the front.
The jersey itself looked like a car that had been in an accident, and the doors only repainted, but hot damn, was I comfy.
Now when the hot dog/soda truck would show up, I would have no trouble doing what I do best.
I hope you can still watch me play baseball in Heaven. But turn it off when I get home, or when I get near a buffet. Ill be sure to start using that ab roller from Christmas '03 real soon.
With love.
ck
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
12-3/Identity Theft
The CK rebirth is now officially imminent. I have had my account number stolen and money tampered with. As upsetting and annoying all of this is, it is actually quite simple. I was hoping for a long annoying conversation with my bank that I could write about. I expected to be sitting on the phone frustrated, hand on my chin, and blowing sighs of tension upward swishing the hair out of my face.
Sadly it was pretty quick and the investigation is underway.
I had imagined that it would have gone something like this....
"Um sir, this is Ubrokeaniway bank. How may I help you?"
Yes, hi, I checked my bank statement this morning and there appears to be a discrepancy.
Uh, sir what type of diseprancy would that be.
(In the background you hear) whats a distrepancy? - Oh I had that in high school.
Well there is a charge on my debit account that I didn't make.
Is it the one for Waldbaums for 250 dollars? No.
Is it the one at McDonalds for 23 dollars? No.
Pizza Hut 31 dollars? um, thinking thinking - no.
Uncle Jimmy's House of Yum Yums? no = I vaguely recall that eveni....
It must be this one for the Vitamin Shoppe. well...why would you think...
Oh it must be this one for the gym membership? hey I think we're getting off track here..
Hey Sherryl, this guy shops at Large and Larger Men's. I don't think the others need to know..,
We have you on conference call now, to um, better serve you and your problem. Ok, I guess that's ok...
Cheerleaders Monthly subscription? mine.
Cooking in the Nude subscription? mine too.
Men on Men workouts video? check. Hey here's and idea - why don't I just tell you what the charge is?
Unfortunately nothing funny happened.
ck
Sadly it was pretty quick and the investigation is underway.
I had imagined that it would have gone something like this....
"Um sir, this is Ubrokeaniway bank. How may I help you?"
Yes, hi, I checked my bank statement this morning and there appears to be a discrepancy.
Uh, sir what type of diseprancy would that be.
(In the background you hear) whats a distrepancy? - Oh I had that in high school.
Well there is a charge on my debit account that I didn't make.
Is it the one for Waldbaums for 250 dollars? No.
Is it the one at McDonalds for 23 dollars? No.
Pizza Hut 31 dollars? um, thinking thinking - no.
Uncle Jimmy's House of Yum Yums? no = I vaguely recall that eveni....
It must be this one for the Vitamin Shoppe. well...why would you think...
Oh it must be this one for the gym membership? hey I think we're getting off track here..
Hey Sherryl, this guy shops at Large and Larger Men's. I don't think the others need to know..,
We have you on conference call now, to um, better serve you and your problem. Ok, I guess that's ok...
Cheerleaders Monthly subscription? mine.
Cooking in the Nude subscription? mine too.
Men on Men workouts video? check. Hey here's and idea - why don't I just tell you what the charge is?
Unfortunately nothing funny happened.
ck
Monday, December 1, 2008
12-1/Mid Shift Delusion
An ode to the Dive Bar
Smelling like a gutter
I turn around and shutter
a cougar next to me
all i wanted was to pee
Indoor smoking
i thought they were joking
your hoarse voice
i have only one choice
"Hey baby my name is Janet"
Oh God I'm in a panic
"I'm looking for a young man"
how long can I hide in the can
Run away from my 2 dollar Coors
A price no where else for sure
She's now looking at my friend
She yells " See how I can bend"
The locals don't care for our presence
I don't blame them they are peasants
They probably make more than me
But when I leave I can see
So Janet with the cackle
Good luck with your bait and tackle
Another nice man might pay your bill
He goes by the name Phil.
Midnights are awful. Look at this shit.
ck
Smelling like a gutter
I turn around and shutter
a cougar next to me
all i wanted was to pee
Indoor smoking
i thought they were joking
your hoarse voice
i have only one choice
"Hey baby my name is Janet"
Oh God I'm in a panic
"I'm looking for a young man"
how long can I hide in the can
Run away from my 2 dollar Coors
A price no where else for sure
She's now looking at my friend
She yells " See how I can bend"
The locals don't care for our presence
I don't blame them they are peasants
They probably make more than me
But when I leave I can see
So Janet with the cackle
Good luck with your bait and tackle
Another nice man might pay your bill
He goes by the name Phil.
Midnights are awful. Look at this shit.
ck
Sunday, November 30, 2008
11-30/Thanksgiving Recap
Some things never change. I keep thinking that they do, but as time goes on, you can count on certain things.
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is still, in fact, the largest impromptu re-union nights in the country. Former high school co-eds still meet up at the same places every year.
The Friday after Thanksgiving is still, in fact, the only day that guys get together and play football. Unfortunately the biggest change when it comes to this, though, is physical fitness.
Already marked for the Queens flag football league, we claimed a field at Crocheron Park, slightly muddy as usual. Half of us wore baseball cleats, the other half sneakers. Some had football wide receiver gloves, I had batting gloves.
Most wore a football jersey, I wore a "baseball at night T-shirt." The "B.A.N" t-shirt had high potential to be the go-to T-Shirt for me. Unfortunately mysterious grease stains presented themselves at the appendix area, so it was now designated to "work out T-shirt" duty.
At first, it appeared that only 5 of us were going to show up, but Sal's colleague arrived with 4 friends. The difference between us and them, was that their receiver gloves were actually used before.
After a mini debate about whether to revert to our olden days by playing tackle, Steve's mechanical knee brace did all the talking for our side. After one drive we had to take a water break and Mike could get his Puma track suit dry-cleaned.
On the twin field next to us, a small group of kids multiplied into about 20, and a full blown tackle game ensued. Before taking the snap I shouted "Omaha, Omaha. 34, 34" to which I got not even a giggle.
I scrunched my nose and gave a nice Farley giggle, but just then a large 20 year old brute, took down another 20 year old with a horse collar tackle on the sister field. The tacklee got up and threw the ball at the tackler's legs, to which he responded with a loud " WHOOO!!"
I yelled hike and threw a 2 yard pass for a 3 yard gain to Sal. " WHOOO!!"
It seemed that our adversaries were jealous of the tackle game, and wanted to remember their olden high school football days. No dice for us, as Taco Bell was calling anway. After losing the first game badly, and then mixing up the teams for another, we ran for the border.
At TB, I learned of Steve's new invented soda beverage. Since he, "doesn't like the taste" of plain diet pepsi, he filled the cup then added a splash of wild cherry. Delicious and ground-breaking, I'd like to go ahead and call it "the Steve."
We sat in the "Rat Pack" booth. It was a circular booth in the corner that seemed to offer the most room, and also gave a little pride to the habitants. I could just see Frank now, ripping open the fire sauce with his teeth and doucing it on his 89 cent soft taco.
They should hang a framed Rat Pack picture above the booth with the caption of Frank saying,
"Who do ya gotta f--k around here to get a chalupa?"
I'd like to see this Friday-after football game evolve into playing video games in one of our dens. Hopefully, though, we won't be drinking wine and checking out the new lawnmower while waiting our turn.
ck
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is still, in fact, the largest impromptu re-union nights in the country. Former high school co-eds still meet up at the same places every year.
The Friday after Thanksgiving is still, in fact, the only day that guys get together and play football. Unfortunately the biggest change when it comes to this, though, is physical fitness.
Already marked for the Queens flag football league, we claimed a field at Crocheron Park, slightly muddy as usual. Half of us wore baseball cleats, the other half sneakers. Some had football wide receiver gloves, I had batting gloves.
Most wore a football jersey, I wore a "baseball at night T-shirt." The "B.A.N" t-shirt had high potential to be the go-to T-Shirt for me. Unfortunately mysterious grease stains presented themselves at the appendix area, so it was now designated to "work out T-shirt" duty.
At first, it appeared that only 5 of us were going to show up, but Sal's colleague arrived with 4 friends. The difference between us and them, was that their receiver gloves were actually used before.
After a mini debate about whether to revert to our olden days by playing tackle, Steve's mechanical knee brace did all the talking for our side. After one drive we had to take a water break and Mike could get his Puma track suit dry-cleaned.
On the twin field next to us, a small group of kids multiplied into about 20, and a full blown tackle game ensued. Before taking the snap I shouted "Omaha, Omaha. 34, 34" to which I got not even a giggle.
I scrunched my nose and gave a nice Farley giggle, but just then a large 20 year old brute, took down another 20 year old with a horse collar tackle on the sister field. The tacklee got up and threw the ball at the tackler's legs, to which he responded with a loud " WHOOO!!"
I yelled hike and threw a 2 yard pass for a 3 yard gain to Sal. " WHOOO!!"
It seemed that our adversaries were jealous of the tackle game, and wanted to remember their olden high school football days. No dice for us, as Taco Bell was calling anway. After losing the first game badly, and then mixing up the teams for another, we ran for the border.
At TB, I learned of Steve's new invented soda beverage. Since he, "doesn't like the taste" of plain diet pepsi, he filled the cup then added a splash of wild cherry. Delicious and ground-breaking, I'd like to go ahead and call it "the Steve."
We sat in the "Rat Pack" booth. It was a circular booth in the corner that seemed to offer the most room, and also gave a little pride to the habitants. I could just see Frank now, ripping open the fire sauce with his teeth and doucing it on his 89 cent soft taco.
They should hang a framed Rat Pack picture above the booth with the caption of Frank saying,
"Who do ya gotta f--k around here to get a chalupa?"
I'd like to see this Friday-after football game evolve into playing video games in one of our dens. Hopefully, though, we won't be drinking wine and checking out the new lawnmower while waiting our turn.
ck
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
11-26/Let's Go to the Diner
Congratulations everyone. You've made it to the playoffs.
http://cornerbar-cwk.blogspot.com/2008/10/originalfriday-december-30-2005-oh-boy.html
It's time to get your game face on. Right now, most of you are in the locker room, or your bedroom, prepping for the game.
Locker Room attendant (mom or bellman bringing you your laundry) hanging up your uniform, dress shirt or tight Armani shirt. Leather jacket, smelling extra leathery tonight, or your small shirt that says "slut" or "baby" on it.
Your eye black, or makeup is in your locker, ready to be dispersed. This will help deflect the disco lights as "you can have whatever you like" starts to blast. Make sure you have stretched completely, so when you start f&ck dancing, you don't pull a hammy as you put your hands on the floor and shove your ass into a fine young gentleman, ready for the snap.
Gentlemen, make sure you hit a few Jaeger bombs before entering the field of play. This is your warm up, so that you are nice and loose when you get hit in the first quarter by rejections. The first few hits of the game are always the worst until you are nice and warmed up.
For those of you working like myself, here's a quick rundown of what you'll miss.
Walk into the bar, automatically seeing a dozen people from high school you always promised you'd keep in touch with. After a few, "what up bro", and kisses on the cheek from girls you were never allowed to even look at, you belly up to the bar where there is another "bro" you went to school with. And still don't get hooked up on the drinks.
At first you feel good about yourself, then you see your sister and her friends, and immediately feel ashamed.
You get over it, strike out big with one of her friends. Then you return to the bar to try another shot of getting free drinks from your old compatriot by saying things like "what have you been up to" as 5 other people try to get drinks and you're wasting his time. Take your 6 dollar Corona, and "The next one is on me" and go back to your crew.
Your crew is now talking to the same people you were only good enough to talk to in high school, made up of 6 ok guys, one of them maybe from the swim team or something. This barely makes you feel better since you are hanging with a varsity pro and maybe one of his friends from a more prestigious team will bring over cool girls. Maybe even girls that are now slightly more attainable because you have a good job and they don't.
After another 2 hours of OAR's "Crazy Game of Poker" and trying to ask the dude you sat next to in homeroom about his startup DJ business you start getting tired. You say goofy things like "Let's pick up some chicks and get out of here," or "Let's hit White Castle."
You have a daydream of the football team showing up in their letter jackets, hands in pockets all silent, and everyone goes crazy. You bump into a few more people not paying attention because they are texting someone on their Blackberry, to " Come over to XXXXXX, its pumping."
It ends up at the diner, where you have a swiss cheese omelet and french fries. Do yourself the favor and just go to the diner at 7pm.
You can't change the past, but the future is bright. Especially when you have a Blackberry that you actually need for work.
ck
http://cornerbar-cwk.blogspot.com/2008/10/originalfriday-december-30-2005-oh-boy.html
It's time to get your game face on. Right now, most of you are in the locker room, or your bedroom, prepping for the game.
Locker Room attendant (mom or bellman bringing you your laundry) hanging up your uniform, dress shirt or tight Armani shirt. Leather jacket, smelling extra leathery tonight, or your small shirt that says "slut" or "baby" on it.
Your eye black, or makeup is in your locker, ready to be dispersed. This will help deflect the disco lights as "you can have whatever you like" starts to blast. Make sure you have stretched completely, so when you start f&ck dancing, you don't pull a hammy as you put your hands on the floor and shove your ass into a fine young gentleman, ready for the snap.
Gentlemen, make sure you hit a few Jaeger bombs before entering the field of play. This is your warm up, so that you are nice and loose when you get hit in the first quarter by rejections. The first few hits of the game are always the worst until you are nice and warmed up.
For those of you working like myself, here's a quick rundown of what you'll miss.
Walk into the bar, automatically seeing a dozen people from high school you always promised you'd keep in touch with. After a few, "what up bro", and kisses on the cheek from girls you were never allowed to even look at, you belly up to the bar where there is another "bro" you went to school with. And still don't get hooked up on the drinks.
At first you feel good about yourself, then you see your sister and her friends, and immediately feel ashamed.
You get over it, strike out big with one of her friends. Then you return to the bar to try another shot of getting free drinks from your old compatriot by saying things like "what have you been up to" as 5 other people try to get drinks and you're wasting his time. Take your 6 dollar Corona, and "The next one is on me" and go back to your crew.
Your crew is now talking to the same people you were only good enough to talk to in high school, made up of 6 ok guys, one of them maybe from the swim team or something. This barely makes you feel better since you are hanging with a varsity pro and maybe one of his friends from a more prestigious team will bring over cool girls. Maybe even girls that are now slightly more attainable because you have a good job and they don't.
After another 2 hours of OAR's "Crazy Game of Poker" and trying to ask the dude you sat next to in homeroom about his startup DJ business you start getting tired. You say goofy things like "Let's pick up some chicks and get out of here," or "Let's hit White Castle."
You have a daydream of the football team showing up in their letter jackets, hands in pockets all silent, and everyone goes crazy. You bump into a few more people not paying attention because they are texting someone on their Blackberry, to " Come over to XXXXXX, its pumping."
It ends up at the diner, where you have a swiss cheese omelet and french fries. Do yourself the favor and just go to the diner at 7pm.
You can't change the past, but the future is bright. Especially when you have a Blackberry that you actually need for work.
ck
Friday, November 21, 2008
11-21/Giant Disaster
I decided that putting up my NY Giants flag while at a red light was embarrassing. So I waited until it turned green, started driving, and then affixed it to the drivers side window. As I ordered the window to close, I let go of the flag hoping it would shut quickly. As it was sliding up, the speed of the car increased, and my brain cells continued to decrease.
Note for other non-engineers: The wind from driving will blow the flag off of the window if not closed. Quite a design flaw if you ask me.
As I tried to swerve back into my lane after attempting to save the flag from its dark fate, I could only imagine what happened behind me. Did it snap under the van that was following me? Did I cause an accident? Was I the laughing stock of Johnson Ave? I'm sure the answer is yes to at least one of those questions.
I didn't go back for it.
I might go look on my lunch break.
I'm not sure if I can bear to see its remains.
If I can't have it, my worse case scenario is that it is proudly flying atop a King Kullen shopping cart, driven by a newly proud Giants fan bum.
If that's the case, I would recommend he doesn't ride that cart down a hill.
ck
Note for other non-engineers: The wind from driving will blow the flag off of the window if not closed. Quite a design flaw if you ask me.
As I tried to swerve back into my lane after attempting to save the flag from its dark fate, I could only imagine what happened behind me. Did it snap under the van that was following me? Did I cause an accident? Was I the laughing stock of Johnson Ave? I'm sure the answer is yes to at least one of those questions.
I didn't go back for it.
I might go look on my lunch break.
I'm not sure if I can bear to see its remains.
If I can't have it, my worse case scenario is that it is proudly flying atop a King Kullen shopping cart, driven by a newly proud Giants fan bum.
If that's the case, I would recommend he doesn't ride that cart down a hill.
ck
Thursday, November 20, 2008
11-20/Going Down, Hand in Hand
In the 90's there was an indoor roller rink called Laces. Similar to bell-bottoms and afro's, it was the 90's way of reminding you that one day, when you're older, you are going to look back and cringe.
I had been invited by a girl to go to Laces, and it appeared that perhaps she had asked me out on a date. Not knowing much about girls, and that wearing sweatpants to the library was unacceptable, I didn't know the difference. She was my first crush, and it didn't dawn on me, that maybe she liked me too. In fact, I thought it was a hoax.
Even in the library, with my sweatpants and 94 Rangers Stanley Cup Champions hat, I still didn't get it when she asked me out.
Her mom dropped us off, accompanied by 2 of her other friends. I felt pretty good about roller skating, since I had just started playing roller hockey - and when I say just started, I mean I wore quad roller skates that were 2 sizes too small. Along with the skates, I had built most of my goalie equipment out of cardboard, and I could barely stand up.
As we skated to some Boyz to Men song hand in hand, I felt pretty good about everything. Maybe this was for real. Was I going to join the ranks of the 8th grade elite who had a boy/girlfriend and......kissed???
(15 years later, I found out that there was much more than just kissing going on when boys and girls hung out and experimented. The only experimenting I was doing was dipping popcorn in the nacho cheese at Bay Terrace while seeing "The Mask" with Fabe. John made pizzas at his aunts house.)
As "Shoop" by Salt-n-Peppa played, I started to question how I looked on these rented skates. Was I actually looking like the roller hockey player I had boasted? I actually remember answering the mom's question of "Do you know how to skate?" with a defiant, "Yeah. I play hockey."
(Flashback to the bended piece of cardboard with cut out neckhole, placed over catcher's chest protector. The Eddie Belfour Blackhawks plastic goalie mask borrowed from Mike next door too small for my head.)
Making a turn, I felt my weight shift to the left, and I started losing my balance. I countermeasured the loss to the left, with a twist to the right, ignoring the rules I will learn in driver's ed a few years later about what to do in a skid. I was going down. Hand in Hand.
Just then I caught myself. Actually.....I caught her while naturally trying to grab something while losing balance.
It grabbed something alright. Her. Her right one.
Pretending like nothing happened, we skated on. I would get another chance at Laces with her weeks later. I harmed this second chance by lathering up in Drakar Noir.
Thinking that sweatpants, and a tan St. John's Red Storm t-shirt was appropriate, I worked up quite a sweat. Shocker. I had become immersed in sweat, evident by the bib like stain that shadowed the front of my shirt. Not like a baby's bib - more like a lobster bib.
It was safe to say there was no hand in hand skate to "Always and Forever."
But things have turned out just spectacular since.
ck
I had been invited by a girl to go to Laces, and it appeared that perhaps she had asked me out on a date. Not knowing much about girls, and that wearing sweatpants to the library was unacceptable, I didn't know the difference. She was my first crush, and it didn't dawn on me, that maybe she liked me too. In fact, I thought it was a hoax.
Even in the library, with my sweatpants and 94 Rangers Stanley Cup Champions hat, I still didn't get it when she asked me out.
Her mom dropped us off, accompanied by 2 of her other friends. I felt pretty good about roller skating, since I had just started playing roller hockey - and when I say just started, I mean I wore quad roller skates that were 2 sizes too small. Along with the skates, I had built most of my goalie equipment out of cardboard, and I could barely stand up.
As we skated to some Boyz to Men song hand in hand, I felt pretty good about everything. Maybe this was for real. Was I going to join the ranks of the 8th grade elite who had a boy/girlfriend and......kissed???
(15 years later, I found out that there was much more than just kissing going on when boys and girls hung out and experimented. The only experimenting I was doing was dipping popcorn in the nacho cheese at Bay Terrace while seeing "The Mask" with Fabe. John made pizzas at his aunts house.)
As "Shoop" by Salt-n-Peppa played, I started to question how I looked on these rented skates. Was I actually looking like the roller hockey player I had boasted? I actually remember answering the mom's question of "Do you know how to skate?" with a defiant, "Yeah. I play hockey."
(Flashback to the bended piece of cardboard with cut out neckhole, placed over catcher's chest protector. The Eddie Belfour Blackhawks plastic goalie mask borrowed from Mike next door too small for my head.)
Making a turn, I felt my weight shift to the left, and I started losing my balance. I countermeasured the loss to the left, with a twist to the right, ignoring the rules I will learn in driver's ed a few years later about what to do in a skid. I was going down. Hand in Hand.
Just then I caught myself. Actually.....I caught her while naturally trying to grab something while losing balance.
It grabbed something alright. Her. Her right one.
Pretending like nothing happened, we skated on. I would get another chance at Laces with her weeks later. I harmed this second chance by lathering up in Drakar Noir.
Thinking that sweatpants, and a tan St. John's Red Storm t-shirt was appropriate, I worked up quite a sweat. Shocker. I had become immersed in sweat, evident by the bib like stain that shadowed the front of my shirt. Not like a baby's bib - more like a lobster bib.
It was safe to say there was no hand in hand skate to "Always and Forever."
But things have turned out just spectacular since.
ck
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
RE:11-15/Tis the Season Already
Anonymous posted:
Oh it's so much fun to have all my weeekends free to watch football and have some tasty wings instead of having to purchase presents for some family member I have never met. Maybe while everyone is out toasting the town and I'm stuck putting up Christmas lights, I'll use your same blow up dolls and recreate a fun poker game with my closest buddies. Maybe we'll even plan a fun MAN-cation. Fist pound bro!And who doesn't love getting drunk phone calls while you watch Mama Mia on DVD. "Hey broseph, the bar is swimming with chicks tonight, Wooooo!!!" Woooo indeed my friend. My buddy that is also in a relationship (and sorry he doesn't have a cool nickname like Paps or Hank or "The Chad-ster") suggests that we call you at 7:30 AM to join us when we spend yet another Sunday shopping for a gift for Sophia and Vinnie's baby shower.Look at those guys at the bar high fiving because the local football team just scored, go fuck yourselves.
November 18, 2008 9:47 AM
1. I dont have weekends off. You can call me at 730am Sundays, I'll be at work.
2. Hank is an awesome name.
3. How come you buy presents for someone you've never met at least once?
ck
Oh it's so much fun to have all my weeekends free to watch football and have some tasty wings instead of having to purchase presents for some family member I have never met. Maybe while everyone is out toasting the town and I'm stuck putting up Christmas lights, I'll use your same blow up dolls and recreate a fun poker game with my closest buddies. Maybe we'll even plan a fun MAN-cation. Fist pound bro!And who doesn't love getting drunk phone calls while you watch Mama Mia on DVD. "Hey broseph, the bar is swimming with chicks tonight, Wooooo!!!" Woooo indeed my friend. My buddy that is also in a relationship (and sorry he doesn't have a cool nickname like Paps or Hank or "The Chad-ster") suggests that we call you at 7:30 AM to join us when we spend yet another Sunday shopping for a gift for Sophia and Vinnie's baby shower.Look at those guys at the bar high fiving because the local football team just scored, go fuck yourselves.
November 18, 2008 9:47 AM
1. I dont have weekends off. You can call me at 730am Sundays, I'll be at work.
2. Hank is an awesome name.
3. How come you buy presents for someone you've never met at least once?
ck
11-18/"Daddy-No's"
Things not to do in Greenwich Village.
-Wait for someone over 10 minutes on the same street corner.
-Do not give directions to anyone. While standing next to the subway, a gentleman who was acting extra masculine, asked me where the subway was. After directing him the 5 feet to the entrance, he said "Thanks bro." Then he stopped and asked about the weather, then said, "Ok take it easy bro." Then he stopped again, but I got on a fake phone call really fast, and started yelling at the other party.
- Man appears with a single white rose wrapped in plastic behind his back. He's wearing a hoodie, and black jean jacket from the 90's. He walks past me and turns the corner - only to walk past again seconds later.
-Enter stage right : Large man with beard wearing a single jump suit fatigue - Man with handlebar mustache, tucked in t shirt to very tight white jeans wearing a harness and what appeared to be a whip - and tall man in overcoat and knapsack - They cross the street.
-Man with rose walks past, hood up this time, turns the corner, then reappears seconds later.
-Gentleman in Members only jacket and brown derby hat, starts complaining about the rain very loudly, throwing his arms around.
-Man with rose walks by again and turns the corner. This time he reappears with a woman(dressed like it at least) who resembles the prostitute from the "Life and Times of Tim." She/He is walking ahead of rose guy pretending not to know him (so it seems). I swear I hear him say "But I got you a flower!" He walks away with her, but she still doesn't act like she knows him.
-Update : People still go to packed bars. People still pay 7 dollars for a beer. People still wear tight shirts.
-In a bar where man in turtleneck sweater serves drinks. I am sweat-ing. The bar is named "Daddy-O's" I scared away a table of Cs because I threw in a dip.
- Friends talk about business meetings with Matt Leinart, agents, cool haircuts, and "closing deals." I mentioned I saw Pete Harnisch at Waldbaums once. (Never confirmed)
Home Sweet Home. Don't know where it is.
ck
Saturday, November 15, 2008
11-15/'Tis the Season...already
If you haven't noticed, this year's holiday season has been accelerated. Christmas songs are already playing on satellite radio, select FM stations, and radio station websites. Holiday sales are also starting early, not only to get us in the holiday mood, but also because stores need a boost to their bottom line.
Well, Christmas, if you want some of this early, then come and get it.
I've got my motha'f----ng sweaters at the cleaners. My little winter hat with the stupid f----ng ball on top of it is out of storage - and my ice skates are getting sharpened.
Wollman Rink, NYC. Yeah, you. I'll be there. Ill be the guy pretending to not know how to skate and take down happy couples skating around. Laughing, giggling. Uh oh..... watch out..... really large guy doesn't know how to skate coming right at us! BAM!
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry you guys!!" I say in that black guy imitating white guy voice. "I'm so bad at skating, I just wanted to have a good time. Let me get some napkins for that blood, bro."
I skate away, accidentally over the rose that Johnny Loser got for his girl. I turn back, put my mitten covered hand over my head, roll my eyes upward sheepishly, and mouth the words , "So sorry..."
Paps decided that we should duct tape rose-holding blow up dolls to our hands, and skate around in serendipitous bliss. We would dress them up classy, of course, donned with a nice coat, classy scarf - what kind of weirdos do you think we are?
Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. Hi. Any loser couples checking you out this evening? Holy Shit its a huge tree with lights! Hurry up and get to Chez Max before you're late for Mamma Mia.
Somewhere around Lincoln Center a derranged homeless man has broken into a 3 story apartment. Walking down the street is Jenny with her very nervous gentleman lover: a pressing question on his mind. He stops her underneath a bare oak tree decorated with white Christmas lights. Descending down onto one knee, he pulls out a black velvet box and says, "Jenny, I lo.........."
Then, in superhero fashion, the derranged bum jumps off of a third story fire escape, swinging on a rope of bedsheets tied together like Tarzan. He swings right through the couple, snatching the box from the hand of the stunned gentleman, landing in a pile of garbage bags. He springs up and starts running. Johhny Gentleman starts crying. Dont worry, the ring was insured.
Saks Fifth Ave window bullshit. Awww how cute. Man! This garbage makes me want to go buy overpriced stuff in this store!
Overheard being said by douchebag.
"Sweetheart, this window wonderland has put me in the mood for some hot chocolate. Let's say we go get some at a cafe and then go buy some stuff here. What do you think hun?"
F--K YOU is what I think.
Oh, how sweet, its snowing. Don't eat the yellow snow.
CK
Well, Christmas, if you want some of this early, then come and get it.
I've got my motha'f----ng sweaters at the cleaners. My little winter hat with the stupid f----ng ball on top of it is out of storage - and my ice skates are getting sharpened.
Wollman Rink, NYC. Yeah, you. I'll be there. Ill be the guy pretending to not know how to skate and take down happy couples skating around. Laughing, giggling. Uh oh..... watch out..... really large guy doesn't know how to skate coming right at us! BAM!
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry you guys!!" I say in that black guy imitating white guy voice. "I'm so bad at skating, I just wanted to have a good time. Let me get some napkins for that blood, bro."
I skate away, accidentally over the rose that Johnny Loser got for his girl. I turn back, put my mitten covered hand over my head, roll my eyes upward sheepishly, and mouth the words , "So sorry..."
Paps decided that we should duct tape rose-holding blow up dolls to our hands, and skate around in serendipitous bliss. We would dress them up classy, of course, donned with a nice coat, classy scarf - what kind of weirdos do you think we are?
Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. Hi. Any loser couples checking you out this evening? Holy Shit its a huge tree with lights! Hurry up and get to Chez Max before you're late for Mamma Mia.
Somewhere around Lincoln Center a derranged homeless man has broken into a 3 story apartment. Walking down the street is Jenny with her very nervous gentleman lover: a pressing question on his mind. He stops her underneath a bare oak tree decorated with white Christmas lights. Descending down onto one knee, he pulls out a black velvet box and says, "Jenny, I lo.........."
Then, in superhero fashion, the derranged bum jumps off of a third story fire escape, swinging on a rope of bedsheets tied together like Tarzan. He swings right through the couple, snatching the box from the hand of the stunned gentleman, landing in a pile of garbage bags. He springs up and starts running. Johhny Gentleman starts crying. Dont worry, the ring was insured.
Saks Fifth Ave window bullshit. Awww how cute. Man! This garbage makes me want to go buy overpriced stuff in this store!
Overheard being said by douchebag.
"Sweetheart, this window wonderland has put me in the mood for some hot chocolate. Let's say we go get some at a cafe and then go buy some stuff here. What do you think hun?"
F--K YOU is what I think.
Oh, how sweet, its snowing. Don't eat the yellow snow.
CK
Thursday, November 13, 2008
11-13/Sweating to the Oldies
As I sat in the first row of forward facing seats, I clutched my gym bag, shifting nervously. I was perpendicular to the sideways facing seats, occupied by two girls, en route to the same high school as me.
The mere fact that they were Cs, created a glisten on my brow, as I didn't want them to catch me staring at their legs as they probably assumed I would be. The C-ness was strong in these two, marked by their arrogant tone as they told each other stories of being Cs.
Hoping I would catch a story about them doing X-rated things to either Zach or Slater in the bathroom of the Max, I heard them start talking about B.O. This was strange, I thought, as a couple of Cs like this would probably have no interest in talking about something as foul as body odor.
Then their tone got louder. They started proclamating about the importance of showering in the morning. It hit me. They were using their C powers to make fun of me, thinking that I smelled. I may not have been "fit" or "likeable" but damn it, I certainly never smelled bad. I wanted to tell these Cs this, but I had no backup, and it bothered me.
Nothing smelled on me, not even the gym bag. I was going to, though, have to take the C-bashing I was getting, and like it. I finally got to school, then put a whole bagel in my mouth for 5 dollars.
I did hate gym day though. I am a "sweater," but I don't mind it as long as I am in the right attire for it. After school, no problem. Third period, problem. As much of a health nut as I was, I wish someone would have told me in nutrition class, that a cold Pepsi is not really a remedy for thirst.
Going to high school, I was always concerned about showering after gym class. I was even going to choose my high school based on whether or not the school forced you to shower after. I guess I was watching "The Wonder Years" too much, and assumed that showering after gym was a way of life. Thankfully, that was not the case, so instead I could just sit and learn about the Moors and algebra in a steam of my own sweat.
I was always freaked out about the showers. I could see them in the corner of the locker room taunting me.
"Get nude and shower with other boys," I could hear them whisper; the nozzles oddly shaped like male genitalia.
Running away I would think, "No. Thank you. I have powder and deodorant."
ck. I hope you eat that whole plate of cheese.
The mere fact that they were Cs, created a glisten on my brow, as I didn't want them to catch me staring at their legs as they probably assumed I would be. The C-ness was strong in these two, marked by their arrogant tone as they told each other stories of being Cs.
Hoping I would catch a story about them doing X-rated things to either Zach or Slater in the bathroom of the Max, I heard them start talking about B.O. This was strange, I thought, as a couple of Cs like this would probably have no interest in talking about something as foul as body odor.
Then their tone got louder. They started proclamating about the importance of showering in the morning. It hit me. They were using their C powers to make fun of me, thinking that I smelled. I may not have been "fit" or "likeable" but damn it, I certainly never smelled bad. I wanted to tell these Cs this, but I had no backup, and it bothered me.
Nothing smelled on me, not even the gym bag. I was going to, though, have to take the C-bashing I was getting, and like it. I finally got to school, then put a whole bagel in my mouth for 5 dollars.
I did hate gym day though. I am a "sweater," but I don't mind it as long as I am in the right attire for it. After school, no problem. Third period, problem. As much of a health nut as I was, I wish someone would have told me in nutrition class, that a cold Pepsi is not really a remedy for thirst.
Going to high school, I was always concerned about showering after gym class. I was even going to choose my high school based on whether or not the school forced you to shower after. I guess I was watching "The Wonder Years" too much, and assumed that showering after gym was a way of life. Thankfully, that was not the case, so instead I could just sit and learn about the Moors and algebra in a steam of my own sweat.
I was always freaked out about the showers. I could see them in the corner of the locker room taunting me.
"Get nude and shower with other boys," I could hear them whisper; the nozzles oddly shaped like male genitalia.
Running away I would think, "No. Thank you. I have powder and deodorant."
ck. I hope you eat that whole plate of cheese.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
11-8/Picture of the Week
You know what they say, "The camera adds 10 to 100 pounds."
ck ( taken at JFK May '08 )
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
11-6/Thank you Little Rock
While at the gym today I realized two things. First, I am going to try a triathlon. Second, I really want to be in a band.
On the treadmill, I use different tools to motivate me. Sometimes I just think of something that enrages me, and its enough fuel to get the job done. However, when coupled with music, I'm a regular Jackie Joyner-Kersey.
One of my oldest fantasies takes place at the show of one my favorite bands. I've disclosed this to only a select,very very very special few, but I decided why not spread the love around. It was something that I thought about back in probably the 8th grade, but over the years specifics have changed.
The setting of this motivational fantasy takes place in the St. Fidelis Elementary School's auditorium, capable of handling about 250 people. In the crowd of 250 is me and some friends, and also the girl that I like.
Background : I had run into the band earlier at some arbitrary neighborhood store, where I tell them that I was coming to the show, and a conversation ensues. We talk about music, what type of music I write, and I give them an insight about my motivations for writing it. We leave on great terms, with an invite to hang after the show.
The band in the daydream changes, depending on what song I'm 'training' to. At the show, they finish up a song, and then it goes something like this...
"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone that has come out tonight. I know we're in a small place, but we figured it would be cool to do something low key for you guys," the lead singer says, sparking a drunken roar from the crowd.
"But now, I figured we'd do something different, and invite a friend of ours to the stage to play xxxxx with us. Come on up here!" he says pointing to me.
I am shocked, but I love this song and I know how to play it. After 2 seconds of astonished silence, the crowd erupts, and the people that know me start chanting my name.
As I hit the stage, the lead singer gives me one of those high fives with the half hug and hands me his Les Paul. He then says,
"Guys, this is Chris!" evoking roars from the crowd. I glance at the girl for a moment and go to stage right, where a mic stand is set up.
We start the song, and I even start singing backup vocals. The lead singer turns his head while singing, keeping his torso facing forward, giving me a surprised glance. After a nod and a smile, he swivels his head back around to the front of the microphone to align it with his body, as his left hand grabs the mic stand.
As the chorus comes around, I start to get more comfortable. The initial fear and nervousness has subsided, as I realize the whole band is behind me, cheering me on with silent approval - only apparent in nods and gestures from their heads, and hands, when free from the instruments.
As the second verse comes up, the lead singer walks away from the mic. He picks up another guitar and starts playing rhythm. I realize that no one is near the mic to start singing. Then they all look at me, and I know what to do.
I start singing, eyes closed for parts of emphasis, then opened to lock into hers. I start singing the words as if I'm having a conversation with her alone in a city coffee shop on a December night. Within the daydream, I think of me speaking the words of the song, glancing at her black coat, the battlefield for resilient snowflakes to lose their fight with the warmth of the fire.
Back in the {fake} moment on stage, I close my eyes again as I come towards the end of the verse. Sucking in the emotion of the situation, I hit the note perfectly at the end of the verse, catapulting me into the guitar solo of the song. I step aside from my mic, and wander toward a smaller amp, where I throw my foot up on top of it, and stare at the girl while finishing the solo.
The song finishes up, and the crowd goes wild. The band all leave their positions and come over to me to congratulate me for 'rocking out.' I look at the girl once more- her head is cocked to the side with a half smile, hands clutching the scarf hanging around her neck like the straps of a backpack. She lowers her head and closes her eyes for a moment, only to glance up and return them back towards mine.
Usually the fading of the song enlightens my auditory senses to the fact that my hoofs have been thunderously pounding the treadmill. I realize that the whole gym is probably wondering why such a large gentleman has yet to break the machine.
I always thought this was funny, but it's good motivation. Usually, the right girl always is.
ck....biggs.
On the treadmill, I use different tools to motivate me. Sometimes I just think of something that enrages me, and its enough fuel to get the job done. However, when coupled with music, I'm a regular Jackie Joyner-Kersey.
One of my oldest fantasies takes place at the show of one my favorite bands. I've disclosed this to only a select,very very very special few, but I decided why not spread the love around. It was something that I thought about back in probably the 8th grade, but over the years specifics have changed.
The setting of this motivational fantasy takes place in the St. Fidelis Elementary School's auditorium, capable of handling about 250 people. In the crowd of 250 is me and some friends, and also the girl that I like.
Background : I had run into the band earlier at some arbitrary neighborhood store, where I tell them that I was coming to the show, and a conversation ensues. We talk about music, what type of music I write, and I give them an insight about my motivations for writing it. We leave on great terms, with an invite to hang after the show.
The band in the daydream changes, depending on what song I'm 'training' to. At the show, they finish up a song, and then it goes something like this...
"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone that has come out tonight. I know we're in a small place, but we figured it would be cool to do something low key for you guys," the lead singer says, sparking a drunken roar from the crowd.
"But now, I figured we'd do something different, and invite a friend of ours to the stage to play xxxxx with us. Come on up here!" he says pointing to me.
I am shocked, but I love this song and I know how to play it. After 2 seconds of astonished silence, the crowd erupts, and the people that know me start chanting my name.
As I hit the stage, the lead singer gives me one of those high fives with the half hug and hands me his Les Paul. He then says,
"Guys, this is Chris!" evoking roars from the crowd. I glance at the girl for a moment and go to stage right, where a mic stand is set up.
We start the song, and I even start singing backup vocals. The lead singer turns his head while singing, keeping his torso facing forward, giving me a surprised glance. After a nod and a smile, he swivels his head back around to the front of the microphone to align it with his body, as his left hand grabs the mic stand.
As the chorus comes around, I start to get more comfortable. The initial fear and nervousness has subsided, as I realize the whole band is behind me, cheering me on with silent approval - only apparent in nods and gestures from their heads, and hands, when free from the instruments.
As the second verse comes up, the lead singer walks away from the mic. He picks up another guitar and starts playing rhythm. I realize that no one is near the mic to start singing. Then they all look at me, and I know what to do.
I start singing, eyes closed for parts of emphasis, then opened to lock into hers. I start singing the words as if I'm having a conversation with her alone in a city coffee shop on a December night. Within the daydream, I think of me speaking the words of the song, glancing at her black coat, the battlefield for resilient snowflakes to lose their fight with the warmth of the fire.
Back in the {fake} moment on stage, I close my eyes again as I come towards the end of the verse. Sucking in the emotion of the situation, I hit the note perfectly at the end of the verse, catapulting me into the guitar solo of the song. I step aside from my mic, and wander toward a smaller amp, where I throw my foot up on top of it, and stare at the girl while finishing the solo.
The song finishes up, and the crowd goes wild. The band all leave their positions and come over to me to congratulate me for 'rocking out.' I look at the girl once more- her head is cocked to the side with a half smile, hands clutching the scarf hanging around her neck like the straps of a backpack. She lowers her head and closes her eyes for a moment, only to glance up and return them back towards mine.
Usually the fading of the song enlightens my auditory senses to the fact that my hoofs have been thunderously pounding the treadmill. I realize that the whole gym is probably wondering why such a large gentleman has yet to break the machine.
I always thought this was funny, but it's good motivation. Usually, the right girl always is.
ck....biggs.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
11-5/Interesting
You ask for it........ you got it, Toyota. You ask for it........ you got it, Toyota. You ask for it........ you got it, Toyota.
ck
ck
Monday, November 3, 2008
11-3/Line of the Day
Fabian on Chris Berman interviewing the candidates during halftime of monday night football.
"Back back back back....vote!"
ck
"Back back back back....vote!"
ck
Saturday, November 1, 2008
11-1/Run, Colin, Run
In support of my friend Colin, I'm going to make fun of him for running in the NYC Marathon.
Things going through his mind while running.
At the start line, waiting for the race to begin.
-Can I get a little room here?
-What is that smell?
-I want to run next to that one! Italian gesture and then "minkia!" out loud.
Race begins
-Im in such good f#&#ng shape!
-"Im in such good f%^&**ing shape!" said to the pretty girl he's running next to.
Mile 14
-I think Chris was going to live here once. What an ass.
Mile 15
-"Did you know the Queensboro bridge was built in 1745 in preparation for the elephants to cross during the Battle of Gettysburg?" Pretty girl says, "I did hear that actually."
Mile 22
-Uhhh,Ahem,Uhhh,Ahem,Ahem,Uhhh...
Mile 24
-Im in such good f#**ng shape!
Mile 26
-I hope Phil is waiting for me.
When I was a child, and my parents wanted me to be "healthier," I was enrolled in the New York Road Runners. The NYRR is a widely popular running club that celebrates not being obese, and is responsible for creating the marathon 31 years ago.
I remember when we had a 'meet' at our local park. I must have been about 8 or 9. I was wearing the sweatshirt that they gave me, which of course, was way too tight. I was keeping pace ( with an old man walking liesurely around the park ), and I knew that the finish line was close ( I could hear the Mr. Softee that was waiting for me).
While getting close to the end, I noticed a dog was running at me in the distance. As I've come to learn, dogs want to play when you are running, and not necessarily eat me. This dog came up on me, leaping in the air, almost with its paws on my shoulders. I tried running away faster and faster, but it was to no avail. I starting sobbing uncontrollably as I was trying to fend off this dog.
The owner finally caught up to us, and was able to get the dog to heel. My mother was laughing, I think. After I was released from its grips, sobbing, I tried to get this way-too-small sweatshirt off of me. Struggling, trying to get the tight neck around my bulbous head, I started to shout about how I'm never doing this again. I got this tight sweatshirt off, messing my hair, and threw it onto the ground and walked away.
Go Colin!
ck
Things going through his mind while running.
At the start line, waiting for the race to begin.
-Can I get a little room here?
-What is that smell?
-I want to run next to that one! Italian gesture and then "minkia!" out loud.
Race begins
-Im in such good f#&#ng shape!
-"Im in such good f%^&**ing shape!" said to the pretty girl he's running next to.
Mile 14
-I think Chris was going to live here once. What an ass.
Mile 15
-"Did you know the Queensboro bridge was built in 1745 in preparation for the elephants to cross during the Battle of Gettysburg?" Pretty girl says, "I did hear that actually."
Mile 22
-Uhhh,Ahem,Uhhh,Ahem,Ahem,Uhhh...
Mile 24
-Im in such good f#**ng shape!
Mile 26
-I hope Phil is waiting for me.
When I was a child, and my parents wanted me to be "healthier," I was enrolled in the New York Road Runners. The NYRR is a widely popular running club that celebrates not being obese, and is responsible for creating the marathon 31 years ago.
I remember when we had a 'meet' at our local park. I must have been about 8 or 9. I was wearing the sweatshirt that they gave me, which of course, was way too tight. I was keeping pace ( with an old man walking liesurely around the park ), and I knew that the finish line was close ( I could hear the Mr. Softee that was waiting for me).
While getting close to the end, I noticed a dog was running at me in the distance. As I've come to learn, dogs want to play when you are running, and not necessarily eat me. This dog came up on me, leaping in the air, almost with its paws on my shoulders. I tried running away faster and faster, but it was to no avail. I starting sobbing uncontrollably as I was trying to fend off this dog.
The owner finally caught up to us, and was able to get the dog to heel. My mother was laughing, I think. After I was released from its grips, sobbing, I tried to get this way-too-small sweatshirt off of me. Struggling, trying to get the tight neck around my bulbous head, I started to shout about how I'm never doing this again. I got this tight sweatshirt off, messing my hair, and threw it onto the ground and walked away.
Go Colin!
ck
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
10-28/Swish and Spit
Before we headed to Pittsburgh, I attended my first wine tasting event last Thursday. It was held at the Atlantis Aquarium in Riverhead on the edge of Long Island. All I wanted to do was wear a suit jacket, so I was in.
When you arrived into the main area, a classy lounge band was playing the "Girl From Ipanema." Around the hall, there were cheese spreads strategically located and catering personnel were walking around with different hors d'oeuvres. All the Long Island Wineries set up tables where you could taste, and even purchase some of the wine.
I became quite excited once I saw the personnel walking around with these delicious bite size vittles, but quickly became disappointed when I started to notice most of them were fish related. It's a bit embarrassing when you start flagging down these folks, only to dismiss them when they tell you that it's shrimp delight or shrimp medley.
At one point I did spot pigs in a blanket, but I couldn't track her down quick enough. I felt like she was running away from me because I had that hungry look in my eye.
"Easy sweetheart," I mumbled under my breath, as I ran after her in the dark cavern around the shark tank.
She did elude me and my advances to her pigs in a blanket, only because I got distracted by lamb chops, and she turned a corner back into the crowd. I didn't feel so bad, because I would have probably grabbed an uncomfortable amount in my hand and given her a dirty look.
After some snooping, I found where the caterers emerged from the kitchen. It was where the bathroom was located, so I kept pretending that I was waiting for someone to come out. When they would approach, I'd act shocked like I had no idea, then with the reluctant face of 'I really shouldn't, but youre twisting my arm', I'd give in.
"Yeah, I'll try a chocolate potato roll."
At one point I realized that I was like the 5 year old waiting near the entrance to the field where the players would come out. I would get all excited when the caterer came around the corner, but then have the disappointment when it was codfish balls - just as if the caterer was someone obscure like the third string QB of the team or Al Del Greco.
The hardest part was doing the wine tasting. I would have to figure out a way where I could go to each of the tables without being recognized as "that guy." We started a criss-cross pattern, always stopping to check the wine bottle itself. Looking at each other, we'd shake our heads in affirmation that this was a good one.
Looking at Al with shocked-raised eyebrows, "Ah, its a 98.''
Then looking at the wine attendant, " Mmm, Ill try some of this."
It did get awkward when we started hitting up the tables for the second time, then the third, then the fourth. I was wondering if we should keep the charade going, or just stop pretending. I think we eventually went with the latter and just started pointing at what we wanted with a cute shrug of the shoulders.
As the evening progressed, I did notice that the band was playing Michael Jackson's "Beat It." Upon further inspection, the band leader was wearing dark sunglasses, a black hat, and a white glove. It was too dark to get the photo.
Just to note, there was also the guy who did the swirl, the sniff, and then the taste.
"A little fruity, delicate,....... soft. I like it." Just like me.
When you arrived into the main area, a classy lounge band was playing the "Girl From Ipanema." Around the hall, there were cheese spreads strategically located and catering personnel were walking around with different hors d'oeuvres. All the Long Island Wineries set up tables where you could taste, and even purchase some of the wine.
I became quite excited once I saw the personnel walking around with these delicious bite size vittles, but quickly became disappointed when I started to notice most of them were fish related. It's a bit embarrassing when you start flagging down these folks, only to dismiss them when they tell you that it's shrimp delight or shrimp medley.
At one point I did spot pigs in a blanket, but I couldn't track her down quick enough. I felt like she was running away from me because I had that hungry look in my eye.
"Easy sweetheart," I mumbled under my breath, as I ran after her in the dark cavern around the shark tank.
She did elude me and my advances to her pigs in a blanket, only because I got distracted by lamb chops, and she turned a corner back into the crowd. I didn't feel so bad, because I would have probably grabbed an uncomfortable amount in my hand and given her a dirty look.
After some snooping, I found where the caterers emerged from the kitchen. It was where the bathroom was located, so I kept pretending that I was waiting for someone to come out. When they would approach, I'd act shocked like I had no idea, then with the reluctant face of 'I really shouldn't, but youre twisting my arm', I'd give in.
"Yeah, I'll try a chocolate potato roll."
At one point I realized that I was like the 5 year old waiting near the entrance to the field where the players would come out. I would get all excited when the caterer came around the corner, but then have the disappointment when it was codfish balls - just as if the caterer was someone obscure like the third string QB of the team or Al Del Greco.
The hardest part was doing the wine tasting. I would have to figure out a way where I could go to each of the tables without being recognized as "that guy." We started a criss-cross pattern, always stopping to check the wine bottle itself. Looking at each other, we'd shake our heads in affirmation that this was a good one.
Looking at Al with shocked-raised eyebrows, "Ah, its a 98.''
Then looking at the wine attendant, " Mmm, Ill try some of this."
It did get awkward when we started hitting up the tables for the second time, then the third, then the fourth. I was wondering if we should keep the charade going, or just stop pretending. I think we eventually went with the latter and just started pointing at what we wanted with a cute shrug of the shoulders.
As the evening progressed, I did notice that the band was playing Michael Jackson's "Beat It." Upon further inspection, the band leader was wearing dark sunglasses, a black hat, and a white glove. It was too dark to get the photo.
Just to note, there was also the guy who did the swirl, the sniff, and then the taste.
"A little fruity, delicate,....... soft. I like it." Just like me.
ck .
10-28/Picture of the Week
FC and Paps prepare to storm Cheese Stick Hill to battle Chucky and his Cheese Forces.
10-28/Picture of the Week
A proud Paps signing the surrender treaty from General Chucky after his forces ran out of marina.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Turn Your Head and Cough
Getting sick is just as bad as being sick. You can feel it coming, and instead of attacking it, and defending against it, you just give in and go down with the ship.
Get some rest? Go out and stay out late.
Have a healthy meal and climb into bed? Eat a 12AM Chalupa.
Shut off the AC in late October?Turn it on full blast on the off chance you might sweat.
I can't stand being sick. I like the little act I put on after I get over being sick. I eat lots of fruit, wear jogging suits and go to the gym. I like to walk around like a fitness guru giving random people tips on how to work out and be healthy.
Being sick though is one of the biggest nuisance's ever. God forbid you have to give in and go to the Doctor. I always feel as if the Doctor's office is going to make me sicker. I just picture myself sitting there with germs attacking me.
At the office all the single chairs with armrests are lined up around the periphery of the room, except for the row smack in the middle reserved for musical chairs. Enter the old lady, who hasn't bathed since Eisenhower, and she's going to sit right next to you while her daughter fills out the paperwork.
I feel bad sometimes, though, because I look down on the other people that come in to the Doctor's office. They shuffle in, all fatigued, and malaised, with a wad of tissues bundled in their hands. I almost feel like turning to the guy next to me and saying, "Get a load of this guy," pointing with my thumb. Then he looks at me weird because a river of snot is running down my nose.
Maybe instead of making these offices so drab and boring, we can turn them into singles bars. Go out and meet someone, infect each other with love. Since everyone in the office is sick anyway, why not?
A DJ can spin the tracks, however you will never know if he's a real doctor or if that's the way he's dressing. And when he says, " This one goes out to everyone with the flu," you're not exactly sure what he's saying because he loves that surgical mask so much.
And if you do meet that special someone, why not take her up to the bar, and buy her a shot of pepto or pedialyte. You'll be on that doctor's table in no time.
But you'll be the one doing the examining.....
(that means intercourse)
ck
Get some rest? Go out and stay out late.
Have a healthy meal and climb into bed? Eat a 12AM Chalupa.
Shut off the AC in late October?Turn it on full blast on the off chance you might sweat.
I can't stand being sick. I like the little act I put on after I get over being sick. I eat lots of fruit, wear jogging suits and go to the gym. I like to walk around like a fitness guru giving random people tips on how to work out and be healthy.
Being sick though is one of the biggest nuisance's ever. God forbid you have to give in and go to the Doctor. I always feel as if the Doctor's office is going to make me sicker. I just picture myself sitting there with germs attacking me.
At the office all the single chairs with armrests are lined up around the periphery of the room, except for the row smack in the middle reserved for musical chairs. Enter the old lady, who hasn't bathed since Eisenhower, and she's going to sit right next to you while her daughter fills out the paperwork.
I feel bad sometimes, though, because I look down on the other people that come in to the Doctor's office. They shuffle in, all fatigued, and malaised, with a wad of tissues bundled in their hands. I almost feel like turning to the guy next to me and saying, "Get a load of this guy," pointing with my thumb. Then he looks at me weird because a river of snot is running down my nose.
Maybe instead of making these offices so drab and boring, we can turn them into singles bars. Go out and meet someone, infect each other with love. Since everyone in the office is sick anyway, why not?
A DJ can spin the tracks, however you will never know if he's a real doctor or if that's the way he's dressing. And when he says, " This one goes out to everyone with the flu," you're not exactly sure what he's saying because he loves that surgical mask so much.
And if you do meet that special someone, why not take her up to the bar, and buy her a shot of pepto or pedialyte. You'll be on that doctor's table in no time.
But you'll be the one doing the examining.....
(that means intercourse)
ck
Barber Shop Blog 4 - Buzz Me, Cut Me, Shave Me
Original:Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Cut me, buzz me, shave me.
It was humor at its best. Russian immigrants cutting hair, their uninhibited commentary to customers no longer shackled down by the laws of common decency. Those shackles were broken, leaving Russia and fullfilling their dreams - Cutting hair and demeaning balding customers in their 20's.
It's the return of the Barbershop Blog.
That barbershop, with its large wide windows, was snugly fit in between a fish store and a local dive bar. Its strategic location begged for the fish-eaters and the drunks to come on in, " Hchave a hchaircut" the buidling's soft voices would almost call out. The voices so sweet that if you ignored the shop's initial contact, it would make you feel you were welcome any time. " Ok, maybe after snapper, or wodka?"
The talking barbershop was actually the barbers inside messing with me. When I found out, they would yell at me, "hcha hcha, he thought the buildink was talking to him!! Get out of hchere baldty!!!"
I never saw them again.
Wandering the streets for months, my now moppy head yearned for a fresh cut. A fresh look. It was what I needed, now that I had lost yet another barber from my life. A fresh look - not only -but a fresh start. As I wandered the cold streets of Whitestone, NY, collar up, hand in pockets, I saw it in the distance. A flicker of blue, white and red, coiling in an upward motion, rotating trance-like, had lulled me into a type of hypnosis. With a quick reflex-like twist of my head to the left, I pushed aside with my hand the long brown locks that blinded me.
Incessantly blockng my vision with such obnoxiousness, I mockingly inserted a section of the long thick strands between my middle and forefinger. With a dark stare at the locks 2 inches from my eyes, I pretended to snip. I had found my new barber.
2 years later
We had never spoken one word. As soon as that smock was thrown around me I was his. The charactures of different ladies hairstyles that covered me on the smock all laughed at me. It choked me at the collar.
In silence he cut me, he buzzed me, he shaved me. Two years of silence.
Until last Friday, he spoke…..
"This weather, his nice, no?"
Sullenly, lowering my eyes to the lady characture of the bee-hive hairdoo on top of my left breast, I responded, "Yes." Not a weather talk. I prefered the years of diligence and silence over the weather talk.
Then it happened….
"^^** for McCain or Bama?"
My heart lept! A real conversation!……...Shit - his English is worse than those bastards down the street.
"**__ no Palin like guns $@^% has daochter pregnant, no hchusband!" he stated, making the half-oval shape with his hand over his stomach, indicating a woman with child. Then he waited for a response. My nod indicated he may proceed, and he did.
"Hoh-bom-a-ch Muslim, ^&$^*() Hussein family **$(*. Wife black, childrchen blachk. ***
%@%!@%@ $!* *@* (((&*@ *!%!"
No idea. As I wondered what ignorance he was spewing, I was crushed. I couldn't hear all of how funny and ridiculous this rant could have been.
"You dhont have Muslim as president. No Hamas president Israel. Egipt (Egypt) has Egipt. Saudi Arabia."
"Breschnev – 4 star Geen-eral. Kruschev – 2 star Geen-eral " As he listed the leaders of Russia and all their ranks, he affixed imaginary epaulets to his shoulders, like someone in the military, or a pilot, would wear.
"Gorbachev ruined Russia. Ge-orgia and Russia fight. Ho-bama, no strong, no military." Then, making a big C using his forefinger and thumb, he placed them on his dimples, " His face too younghk No like him." He then made racially driven comments as to what would happen if Obama won.
I asked him where he was originally from. He said, "Uzbekistan. Was part Russia" I then thought about Chevy Chase and Dan Akroyd wearing those white furry outfits in the movie, "Spies Like Us."
"McCh-ain good. Looks experience. Military. Is gudt"
ck Mohegan Sun.
Cut me, buzz me, shave me.
It was humor at its best. Russian immigrants cutting hair, their uninhibited commentary to customers no longer shackled down by the laws of common decency. Those shackles were broken, leaving Russia and fullfilling their dreams - Cutting hair and demeaning balding customers in their 20's.
It's the return of the Barbershop Blog.
That barbershop, with its large wide windows, was snugly fit in between a fish store and a local dive bar. Its strategic location begged for the fish-eaters and the drunks to come on in, " Hchave a hchaircut" the buidling's soft voices would almost call out. The voices so sweet that if you ignored the shop's initial contact, it would make you feel you were welcome any time. " Ok, maybe after snapper, or wodka?"
The talking barbershop was actually the barbers inside messing with me. When I found out, they would yell at me, "hcha hcha, he thought the buildink was talking to him!! Get out of hchere baldty!!!"
I never saw them again.
Wandering the streets for months, my now moppy head yearned for a fresh cut. A fresh look. It was what I needed, now that I had lost yet another barber from my life. A fresh look - not only -but a fresh start. As I wandered the cold streets of Whitestone, NY, collar up, hand in pockets, I saw it in the distance. A flicker of blue, white and red, coiling in an upward motion, rotating trance-like, had lulled me into a type of hypnosis. With a quick reflex-like twist of my head to the left, I pushed aside with my hand the long brown locks that blinded me.
Incessantly blockng my vision with such obnoxiousness, I mockingly inserted a section of the long thick strands between my middle and forefinger. With a dark stare at the locks 2 inches from my eyes, I pretended to snip. I had found my new barber.
2 years later
We had never spoken one word. As soon as that smock was thrown around me I was his. The charactures of different ladies hairstyles that covered me on the smock all laughed at me. It choked me at the collar.
In silence he cut me, he buzzed me, he shaved me. Two years of silence.
Until last Friday, he spoke…..
"This weather, his nice, no?"
Sullenly, lowering my eyes to the lady characture of the bee-hive hairdoo on top of my left breast, I responded, "Yes." Not a weather talk. I prefered the years of diligence and silence over the weather talk.
Then it happened….
"^^** for McCain or Bama?"
My heart lept! A real conversation!……...Shit - his English is worse than those bastards down the street.
"**__ no Palin like guns $@^% has daochter pregnant, no hchusband!" he stated, making the half-oval shape with his hand over his stomach, indicating a woman with child. Then he waited for a response. My nod indicated he may proceed, and he did.
"Hoh-bom-a-ch Muslim, ^&$^*() Hussein family **$(*. Wife black, childrchen blachk. ***
%@%!@%@ $!* *@* (((&*@ *!%!"
No idea. As I wondered what ignorance he was spewing, I was crushed. I couldn't hear all of how funny and ridiculous this rant could have been.
"You dhont have Muslim as president. No Hamas president Israel. Egipt (Egypt) has Egipt. Saudi Arabia."
"Breschnev – 4 star Geen-eral. Kruschev – 2 star Geen-eral " As he listed the leaders of Russia and all their ranks, he affixed imaginary epaulets to his shoulders, like someone in the military, or a pilot, would wear.
"Gorbachev ruined Russia. Ge-orgia and Russia fight. Ho-bama, no strong, no military." Then, making a big C using his forefinger and thumb, he placed them on his dimples, " His face too younghk No like him." He then made racially driven comments as to what would happen if Obama won.
I asked him where he was originally from. He said, "Uzbekistan. Was part Russia" I then thought about Chevy Chase and Dan Akroyd wearing those white furry outfits in the movie, "Spies Like Us."
"McCh-ain good. Looks experience. Military. Is gudt"
ck Mohegan Sun.
Food Committee
Original:Saturday, October 18, 2008
Food Committee
Live from New Jersey, I was in contact with Phil Paps and Colin Dools, who were covering one of the top tailgates in the country. "The Hunt" as its known, is a celebration of food, drinks, laughter, and fun.
While I really don't know what its about, I'd like to guess and say that its a harvest celebration where they clean up the Jersey Shore or something. I think that they might throw hay on the beach to soak up the garbage. Not sure.
PP and CD relayed to me, via telephone connection, that the tailgate was running smooth and that there were lots of decent spreads. This conference call led to the development of a new idea, the Food Committee.
The Food Committee will walk around the tailgate sampling many items from the appetizers, to the main courses, to of course - the beverages. The Food Committee will not be limited to food and beverage, but also to entertainment.
I see it happening something like this...
CD will be walking around the tables judging, at first, by sight. Hands joined behind his back, and a stone faced glare, he will not try the food unless it looks worthy. If it doesn't make the cut to the taste test, a sour face will be made, accompanied by a lazy disregarding wave (if real bad, add an old man type "aaahhh"). This reaction might be something similar to Miss America or Miss New Jersey after being asked out by yours truly.
If CD approves of your presentation, he will taste it. Please no Doritos. While tasty and delicious, its too cliche. The food doesn't have to be home-made, but originality will make up for that.
When judging the food, not only creativity/originality count, but also how well it works with alcohol. While filet mignon is classy, a beef brisket sandwich will put you up there.
The Food Committee will also discern between which cocktails make the cut. The Committee has approved use of all Franzia wine boxes.
In the entertainment critique, if CD laughs with arms crossed - one hand nestled under his chin - not only will he look adorable, but you will honored with bonus points. Accordion players will automatically be awarded first prize.
Photos were provided but are not uploading at this time.
After the tailgate concludes, awards will be given.
"Best Dish"
"Best Accordion Player"
"Best Drunk Impression of Borat"
"Best Tailgate Hookup Spot"
Let's get this started.
ck ..........
Food Committee
Live from New Jersey, I was in contact with Phil Paps and Colin Dools, who were covering one of the top tailgates in the country. "The Hunt" as its known, is a celebration of food, drinks, laughter, and fun.
While I really don't know what its about, I'd like to guess and say that its a harvest celebration where they clean up the Jersey Shore or something. I think that they might throw hay on the beach to soak up the garbage. Not sure.
PP and CD relayed to me, via telephone connection, that the tailgate was running smooth and that there were lots of decent spreads. This conference call led to the development of a new idea, the Food Committee.
The Food Committee will walk around the tailgate sampling many items from the appetizers, to the main courses, to of course - the beverages. The Food Committee will not be limited to food and beverage, but also to entertainment.
I see it happening something like this...
CD will be walking around the tables judging, at first, by sight. Hands joined behind his back, and a stone faced glare, he will not try the food unless it looks worthy. If it doesn't make the cut to the taste test, a sour face will be made, accompanied by a lazy disregarding wave (if real bad, add an old man type "aaahhh"). This reaction might be something similar to Miss America or Miss New Jersey after being asked out by yours truly.
If CD approves of your presentation, he will taste it. Please no Doritos. While tasty and delicious, its too cliche. The food doesn't have to be home-made, but originality will make up for that.
When judging the food, not only creativity/originality count, but also how well it works with alcohol. While filet mignon is classy, a beef brisket sandwich will put you up there.
The Food Committee will also discern between which cocktails make the cut. The Committee has approved use of all Franzia wine boxes.
In the entertainment critique, if CD laughs with arms crossed - one hand nestled under his chin - not only will he look adorable, but you will honored with bonus points. Accordion players will automatically be awarded first prize.
Photos were provided but are not uploading at this time.
After the tailgate concludes, awards will be given.
"Best Dish"
"Best Accordion Player"
"Best Drunk Impression of Borat"
"Best Tailgate Hookup Spot"
Let's get this started.
ck ..........
Ahoy Mates
Original:Friday, October 17, 2008
Ahoy Mates
When our power went out, I went to go speak to the landlord who lived on the main floor. I knew that something was amiss, since Wheel of Fortune was blasting at the normal 400 decibels. Somehow the power to the main floor, where they lived, had been restored about 90 percent.
'He' was on the phone with the power company, yelling into the handset unaware that it was on speaker phone. Perhaps he was aware, but was so old that he needed to hold it to his ear to actually hear. I was proud, though, that he was wearing pants at this time of the eve.
After some tricky moves with extension cords, we were able to salvage entertainment, allowing us to watch 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall' ( A WHOLE SEPERATE BLOG ). We still had to use the cell phone lights to pee.
With all of this going on, I figured the search for the house must continue on. Even though the plans had been ammended to renting, I figured Suffolk county had plenty of gems to offer for a good price.
This wonderful "cottage style" abode boasts plenty of "get to know yourself time" as you relax undoubtedly where many pigs and chickens have been slain. I feel like there should be a well nearby.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/882592318.html
For those of you that hate those pesky windows that always seems to need cleaning.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/880772755.html
Gentlemen start your engines.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/874900132.html
Now, I did find a quite lovely place on the water with its own boat slip. The price is not too bad, and according to the pictures its not quite the dump that we have come across in the past. I am frightened, though, to have a boat slip. How can I have a boat slip attached to my house, and not have a boat?http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbmV3eW9yay5jcmFpZ3NsaXN0Lm9yZy9sZ2kvYWJvLzg4MjgwMzMzMS5odG1s
So I figured Id look around for a boat and some other accessories.
"The Dink" I love ithttp://cgi.ebay.com/ebaymotors/8ft-fiberglass-dinghy-The-Dink-by-AmericanSail_W0QQcmdZViewItemQQ_trkparmsZ72Q3a1205Q7c39Q3a1Q7c66Q3a2Q7c65Q3a12Q7c240Q3a1318QQ_trksidZp3286Q2ec0Q2em14QQhashZitem260298991927QQitemZ260298991927
http://www.fastfancydress.co.uk/templates/imagedirectory/sailor%20boy%20kit%20male%20lg.jpg
If I were to actually get a real boat, I probably would still paddle it around anyway. Furthermore, I don't think that people actually care if you leavethe dock. I think that basically the most important part is physicallydrinking on the boat. Who needs all that movement, with the wind, and seagulls making those stupid noises. If you ask me, the ocean is over-rated. This is a great conversation for the beginning of winter.
ck Aruba
Ahoy Mates
When our power went out, I went to go speak to the landlord who lived on the main floor. I knew that something was amiss, since Wheel of Fortune was blasting at the normal 400 decibels. Somehow the power to the main floor, where they lived, had been restored about 90 percent.
'He' was on the phone with the power company, yelling into the handset unaware that it was on speaker phone. Perhaps he was aware, but was so old that he needed to hold it to his ear to actually hear. I was proud, though, that he was wearing pants at this time of the eve.
After some tricky moves with extension cords, we were able to salvage entertainment, allowing us to watch 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall' ( A WHOLE SEPERATE BLOG ). We still had to use the cell phone lights to pee.
With all of this going on, I figured the search for the house must continue on. Even though the plans had been ammended to renting, I figured Suffolk county had plenty of gems to offer for a good price.
This wonderful "cottage style" abode boasts plenty of "get to know yourself time" as you relax undoubtedly where many pigs and chickens have been slain. I feel like there should be a well nearby.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/882592318.html
For those of you that hate those pesky windows that always seems to need cleaning.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/880772755.html
Gentlemen start your engines.http://newyork.craigslist.org/lgi/abo/874900132.html
Now, I did find a quite lovely place on the water with its own boat slip. The price is not too bad, and according to the pictures its not quite the dump that we have come across in the past. I am frightened, though, to have a boat slip. How can I have a boat slip attached to my house, and not have a boat?http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbmV3eW9yay5jcmFpZ3NsaXN0Lm9yZy9sZ2kvYWJvLzg4MjgwMzMzMS5odG1s
So I figured Id look around for a boat and some other accessories.
"The Dink" I love ithttp://cgi.ebay.com/ebaymotors/8ft-fiberglass-dinghy-The-Dink-by-AmericanSail_W0QQcmdZViewItemQQ_trkparmsZ72Q3a1205Q7c39Q3a1Q7c66Q3a2Q7c65Q3a12Q7c240Q3a1318QQ_trksidZp3286Q2ec0Q2em14QQhashZitem260298991927QQitemZ260298991927
http://www.fastfancydress.co.uk/templates/imagedirectory/sailor%20boy%20kit%20male%20lg.jpg
If I were to actually get a real boat, I probably would still paddle it around anyway. Furthermore, I don't think that people actually care if you leavethe dock. I think that basically the most important part is physicallydrinking on the boat. Who needs all that movement, with the wind, and seagulls making those stupid noises. If you ask me, the ocean is over-rated. This is a great conversation for the beginning of winter.
ck Aruba
Dude
Original:Thursday, October 16, 2008
Dude
Three found, busted after getting lost in sewer
BY Brendan Brosh, Alison Gendar, Jonathan Lemire and Wil Cruz DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
" Three blockheaded teenagers were busted playing in a sewer Wednesday in Queens - after getting lost while pretending to be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, police sources said.
Schiller Milfort, 16, of Hollis, and Marvin Ottley, 17, of Bellaire, along with an unidentified 15-year-old boy, were shirtless and in their shorts and sneakers when firefighters plucked them out of a sewer in Kissena Park.
The make-believe heroes were crawling around the sewer system when they got confused and lost their way, police sources said.
They were not injured, officials said.
"These three idiots were playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and wanted to go into the sewers," said one police source. "They were never in danger, just goofing off and being stupid."
Milfort and Ottley were charged with criminal trespassing. The other teenager was released to his parents. "
???????????????????????????????????????????
I am amazed at how life is cyclical. I was convinced with the rise of fuel prices and all the environmental problems, that this world was headed for a big old reset. We lost power in the apartment yesterday, and I was prepared to live like I was out on the prarie in preparation for this reset. I am glad that I had the cow and chickens ready, however, using the outhouse (shed with garden tools) was nothing new to me.
How far can life continue in its advancement? Cell phones are getting cooler, ok. Airplanes are getting more futuristic in the sense of efficiency and composition. However, the most futuristic aircraft aesthetically, the Conconde, is no longer flying.
But less seriously, how great is this story?
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were by far the greatest superheroes that were produced from my time on this earth. They are probably the predecessors of the Power Rangers, again with the asian influence though. Thats funny.
I remember being quite wrapped up in the TMNT. I really like Donatello because he was a scientist and engineer. He likes to solve problems with his mind, not fists, but if needed, he had his Bo ready to go. Michelangelo pissed me off because he always thought he was so funny. He's an ass.
I tell you who was weird, though. It was that Casey Jones. I always felt uncomfortable about his sweatpant-ish type attire, with that odd drawstring on the front. It made me feel awkward thinking about April O'Neill undoing that drawstring and the look on Jones' face. They had to have been banging. Was he wearing an athletic supporter as part of his costume?
If Casey had all that sports equipment, and he apparantly was in good enough shape to be a vigilante, why wouldn't he just play sports? He probably could have been on scholarship and continue his life in professional athletics, or perhaps receive a good education leading to a nice respectable job. Maybe then he wouldn't have to wear those molester's pants.
ck too upset to bother.
Dude
Three found, busted after getting lost in sewer
BY Brendan Brosh, Alison Gendar, Jonathan Lemire and Wil Cruz DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS
" Three blockheaded teenagers were busted playing in a sewer Wednesday in Queens - after getting lost while pretending to be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, police sources said.
Schiller Milfort, 16, of Hollis, and Marvin Ottley, 17, of Bellaire, along with an unidentified 15-year-old boy, were shirtless and in their shorts and sneakers when firefighters plucked them out of a sewer in Kissena Park.
The make-believe heroes were crawling around the sewer system when they got confused and lost their way, police sources said.
They were not injured, officials said.
"These three idiots were playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and wanted to go into the sewers," said one police source. "They were never in danger, just goofing off and being stupid."
Milfort and Ottley were charged with criminal trespassing. The other teenager was released to his parents. "
???????????????????????????????????????????
I am amazed at how life is cyclical. I was convinced with the rise of fuel prices and all the environmental problems, that this world was headed for a big old reset. We lost power in the apartment yesterday, and I was prepared to live like I was out on the prarie in preparation for this reset. I am glad that I had the cow and chickens ready, however, using the outhouse (shed with garden tools) was nothing new to me.
How far can life continue in its advancement? Cell phones are getting cooler, ok. Airplanes are getting more futuristic in the sense of efficiency and composition. However, the most futuristic aircraft aesthetically, the Conconde, is no longer flying.
But less seriously, how great is this story?
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were by far the greatest superheroes that were produced from my time on this earth. They are probably the predecessors of the Power Rangers, again with the asian influence though. Thats funny.
I remember being quite wrapped up in the TMNT. I really like Donatello because he was a scientist and engineer. He likes to solve problems with his mind, not fists, but if needed, he had his Bo ready to go. Michelangelo pissed me off because he always thought he was so funny. He's an ass.
I tell you who was weird, though. It was that Casey Jones. I always felt uncomfortable about his sweatpant-ish type attire, with that odd drawstring on the front. It made me feel awkward thinking about April O'Neill undoing that drawstring and the look on Jones' face. They had to have been banging. Was he wearing an athletic supporter as part of his costume?
If Casey had all that sports equipment, and he apparantly was in good enough shape to be a vigilante, why wouldn't he just play sports? He probably could have been on scholarship and continue his life in professional athletics, or perhaps receive a good education leading to a nice respectable job. Maybe then he wouldn't have to wear those molester's pants.
ck too upset to bother.
Bro J's Sounds Alot like Blow J's
Original:Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Bro J’s sounds alot like Blow J’s
Transcript of Monday Night Football at local pub.
A. I hate going into the city. But 2 hours all you can drink and all you can eat meat.
B. Colin is once again wearing a child's medium shirt over his childs small body annoying me immediately.
C. Fabian and I polish off 2 pitchers and plate of meat quicker than Colin and Phil who contend me and Fabian are cheating.
D. I overextend ourselves on ordering the meat, and worry that it will be thrown out. I ask Paige if we can take this home, she says, "We throw a ton of food away so its ok."
E. Colin starts talking to Miss New Jersey about marathons and what not, and how he's in great shape from being thin.
F. Miss New Jersey and friend offer us their salad. We offer them our meat.
G. Strange gentleman puts empty glasses on our table, then enjoys meat off our plate. I offer it for free as he offers money, Fabian negates me by slapping my hand and saying, "No, your money is good here."
H. I still hate the city.
I. Gentleman uses urinal for about 4 minutes ahead of me.
J. Shots arrive from guy who ate our meat.
K. Shots arrive from Phil, called Gator bites. Shots taste like anus bites.
L. Meat still on table.
M. Someone's birthday????
N. Colin still thin even after birthday cake.
O. Leave after someone rips photo off wall.
ck. casa velas.
Addendum
"Easy Japan, no need to wake up a sleeping giant" - FC
"Let me see that dressing, it's white isn't it?" - CK
Bro J’s sounds alot like Blow J’s
Transcript of Monday Night Football at local pub.
A. I hate going into the city. But 2 hours all you can drink and all you can eat meat.
B. Colin is once again wearing a child's medium shirt over his childs small body annoying me immediately.
C. Fabian and I polish off 2 pitchers and plate of meat quicker than Colin and Phil who contend me and Fabian are cheating.
D. I overextend ourselves on ordering the meat, and worry that it will be thrown out. I ask Paige if we can take this home, she says, "We throw a ton of food away so its ok."
E. Colin starts talking to Miss New Jersey about marathons and what not, and how he's in great shape from being thin.
F. Miss New Jersey and friend offer us their salad. We offer them our meat.
G. Strange gentleman puts empty glasses on our table, then enjoys meat off our plate. I offer it for free as he offers money, Fabian negates me by slapping my hand and saying, "No, your money is good here."
H. I still hate the city.
I. Gentleman uses urinal for about 4 minutes ahead of me.
J. Shots arrive from guy who ate our meat.
K. Shots arrive from Phil, called Gator bites. Shots taste like anus bites.
L. Meat still on table.
M. Someone's birthday????
N. Colin still thin even after birthday cake.
O. Leave after someone rips photo off wall.
ck. casa velas.
Addendum
"Easy Japan, no need to wake up a sleeping giant" - FC
"Let me see that dressing, it's white isn't it?" - CK
Crossing the Humor Line?
Original:Sunday, October 12, 2008
Crossing the humor line?
Speaking with the Fabulous Fabe, we discussed funny moments in bathroom life. I dont think bathrooms get much respect because of the dirty things that go on in there, but hey, its life. Bathrooms are given the respectful title of "room" and they should be treated as such. They aren't in the same category as the one named bastard children like "closet" or "garage" that usually smells like wet all the time. Bath-rooms aren't as prestigious as the living-room, or dining-room, but still it is given the bath-room title.
I suppose when making up names, the room-naming committee couldn't agree on commode-room, or toilet-room, to describle this part of the house, so they just circumvented the whole dirty issue and named it after another piece of equipment - the bath(room). I believe its Cretian for "to make one's self clean - room."
I was raised to go in and out, don't talk about what you do in there, and always wash your hands. I was never exposed to the wonders of being in there, until I started to question why my Godmother had "Reader's Digest" on the top of the toilet itself. I always guessed it was a mistake, and maybe they left the mail in there sometimes. It led me to realize, though, be loud and proud, you sit on the toilet and read!
Once I realized it was indeed ok to read in the bathroom, a whole new world evolved. It started with the newspaper, leading to magazines, then books. I think the world almost stopped spinning when I brought the laptop in there. I was almost tempted to make a desk that would fit perfectly around the toilet. Perhaps an L shape, for my printer on the side.
Watching TV with the door open is easy, but having a TV in the bathroom itself seems to be the penultimate meaning of life. One day we will all get there. I applaud those that have full libraries in the bathroom, going so far as to have a bookshelf and/or magazine rack. Yes I have seen it.
There is nothing like a framed picture of Kojo looking at you, though, while going about your business. Believe me, it happened once upon a time..
http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3NC5waWN0dXJlcy5naS56aW1iaW8uY29tLzJuZCtDb3V0dXJlK0NhcmVzK0JlbmVmaXQrQnJlYXN0K0NhbmNlcis4V2Z5LUJUdEplSmwuanBn
We all have a limit though, especially when company is over, or there are roomates to share with. Sometimes you must make a witty joke about what you have done, or what you need to do, so as to alleviate this embarrassment.
Here are some tips for when you have family staying with you, or you are at someone's dinner party and you need to, um, use the facilities. Especially helpful when the facility is near the middle of the action.
Fabian's Gold Medal - Squeezing the Shampoo bottle. ( I'd like to add - when you come out, bring the shampoo bottle and repeatedly say, "We need more shampoo, its out. I was checking in the bathroom [ point towards the room ] just now. That's what you heard" )
A little too much work - Walking out of the bathroom with plumbing tools, saying " It was tough to fix the sink, but you can use it now" You have to look confident, so people don't think you are crazy...
The Fabian/CK double team ( only works when staying in your girlfriend's all girls dorm room with common showers meant for 8 people) Go in together pretending that its the boy guests' "shower time" and nothing else. This way since we are showering no one else will come in and see what we were doing before the shower. I was convinced that this wouldn't work and that all 8 girls would need to see us in the shower and have their way with us. They never came.
Running the shower while using the facilities is a risky environmental move. If you are actually going to take a shower after, I suggest cutting it shorter. However, if you dont care, and don't even need a shower, you'll have to at least wet your hair, and come out of the bathroom drying said-wet-hair with a towel. Then tell your roomate, ( who probably has his girlfriend's friend over perhaps sparking your need for the charade )....
"You know, I was thinking, IN THE SHOWER, that we need to get more Cheez-its. Hey ( with 'surprised you're here' head nod and hand shake to the friend) My name is Steve, I was just IN THE SHOWER cause I just played sports."
Cell Phone (Expansion of my 'walk and talk method') - Come out of Rest-Room on a fake conversation. You have to really sell this one, just like the walk and talk. Preferably getting angry, and moving your arms alot. People might think, "Someone so angry could not have been going number two." Other people in the party will agree, by saying, " I agree."
ck San Juan.
Crossing the humor line?
Speaking with the Fabulous Fabe, we discussed funny moments in bathroom life. I dont think bathrooms get much respect because of the dirty things that go on in there, but hey, its life. Bathrooms are given the respectful title of "room" and they should be treated as such. They aren't in the same category as the one named bastard children like "closet" or "garage" that usually smells like wet all the time. Bath-rooms aren't as prestigious as the living-room, or dining-room, but still it is given the bath-room title.
I suppose when making up names, the room-naming committee couldn't agree on commode-room, or toilet-room, to describle this part of the house, so they just circumvented the whole dirty issue and named it after another piece of equipment - the bath(room). I believe its Cretian for "to make one's self clean - room."
I was raised to go in and out, don't talk about what you do in there, and always wash your hands. I was never exposed to the wonders of being in there, until I started to question why my Godmother had "Reader's Digest" on the top of the toilet itself. I always guessed it was a mistake, and maybe they left the mail in there sometimes. It led me to realize, though, be loud and proud, you sit on the toilet and read!
Once I realized it was indeed ok to read in the bathroom, a whole new world evolved. It started with the newspaper, leading to magazines, then books. I think the world almost stopped spinning when I brought the laptop in there. I was almost tempted to make a desk that would fit perfectly around the toilet. Perhaps an L shape, for my printer on the side.
Watching TV with the door open is easy, but having a TV in the bathroom itself seems to be the penultimate meaning of life. One day we will all get there. I applaud those that have full libraries in the bathroom, going so far as to have a bookshelf and/or magazine rack. Yes I have seen it.
There is nothing like a framed picture of Kojo looking at you, though, while going about your business. Believe me, it happened once upon a time..
http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3NC5waWN0dXJlcy5naS56aW1iaW8uY29tLzJuZCtDb3V0dXJlK0NhcmVzK0JlbmVmaXQrQnJlYXN0K0NhbmNlcis4V2Z5LUJUdEplSmwuanBn
We all have a limit though, especially when company is over, or there are roomates to share with. Sometimes you must make a witty joke about what you have done, or what you need to do, so as to alleviate this embarrassment.
Here are some tips for when you have family staying with you, or you are at someone's dinner party and you need to, um, use the facilities. Especially helpful when the facility is near the middle of the action.
Fabian's Gold Medal - Squeezing the Shampoo bottle. ( I'd like to add - when you come out, bring the shampoo bottle and repeatedly say, "We need more shampoo, its out. I was checking in the bathroom [ point towards the room ] just now. That's what you heard" )
A little too much work - Walking out of the bathroom with plumbing tools, saying " It was tough to fix the sink, but you can use it now" You have to look confident, so people don't think you are crazy...
The Fabian/CK double team ( only works when staying in your girlfriend's all girls dorm room with common showers meant for 8 people) Go in together pretending that its the boy guests' "shower time" and nothing else. This way since we are showering no one else will come in and see what we were doing before the shower. I was convinced that this wouldn't work and that all 8 girls would need to see us in the shower and have their way with us. They never came.
Running the shower while using the facilities is a risky environmental move. If you are actually going to take a shower after, I suggest cutting it shorter. However, if you dont care, and don't even need a shower, you'll have to at least wet your hair, and come out of the bathroom drying said-wet-hair with a towel. Then tell your roomate, ( who probably has his girlfriend's friend over perhaps sparking your need for the charade )....
"You know, I was thinking, IN THE SHOWER, that we need to get more Cheez-its. Hey ( with 'surprised you're here' head nod and hand shake to the friend) My name is Steve, I was just IN THE SHOWER cause I just played sports."
Cell Phone (Expansion of my 'walk and talk method') - Come out of Rest-Room on a fake conversation. You have to really sell this one, just like the walk and talk. Preferably getting angry, and moving your arms alot. People might think, "Someone so angry could not have been going number two." Other people in the party will agree, by saying, " I agree."
ck San Juan.
Wanted
Original:Friday, October 10, 2008
Wanted
Our company forces us to keep an updated copy of our resumes in a large database that apparantly only Human Resources can see. We are not exactly sure the specific reason for these requests, however most people comply. My real resume resembles a dinner menu at a fancy restaurant, however, much like a fancy restaurant, it looks good on paper but really tastes like shit.
It resembles something like this, added are things I wish were there.
CHRISTOPHER KEMMERER
Address : Not at my parents house, but also doesn't give 650 dollars to old man with stained shirt.
Objective: Find job where I can wear the least amount of clothes and get paid millions of dollars.
Education
EMBRY RIDDLE AERONAUTICAL UNIVERSITY – Learned how to fly to eventually sell out to Air Traffic Control. BAC higher than GPA. Successfully had apartment off campus, vacuumed once a semester. Continued buying more underwear to avoid having to do laundry. Got mono.
Work experience
Candy Striper – St Johns Hospital. Was hoping there would be candy, but no dice. Kept uniform.
Deckhand / Sailboat – Resembled Captain Ron played by Patrick Swayze. Had Intercourse with woman on board. Took shirt off twice.
Captain A340-600 Lufthansa German Airlines – Self explanatory.
Actor Disney World – Played WWI German flying ace with pants pulled up to knees and scarf wearing those big goggles for the Indiana Jones show. Fired for wearing outfit in public.
Activities
Water Polo Champion, outside of Fabians Pool.
Interior Decorator of John Antinore's Condo.
Never letting the best things of my life go.
ck needy needy needy.
Wanted
Our company forces us to keep an updated copy of our resumes in a large database that apparantly only Human Resources can see. We are not exactly sure the specific reason for these requests, however most people comply. My real resume resembles a dinner menu at a fancy restaurant, however, much like a fancy restaurant, it looks good on paper but really tastes like shit.
It resembles something like this, added are things I wish were there.
CHRISTOPHER KEMMERER
Address : Not at my parents house, but also doesn't give 650 dollars to old man with stained shirt.
Objective: Find job where I can wear the least amount of clothes and get paid millions of dollars.
Education
EMBRY RIDDLE AERONAUTICAL UNIVERSITY – Learned how to fly to eventually sell out to Air Traffic Control. BAC higher than GPA. Successfully had apartment off campus, vacuumed once a semester. Continued buying more underwear to avoid having to do laundry. Got mono.
Work experience
Candy Striper – St Johns Hospital. Was hoping there would be candy, but no dice. Kept uniform.
Deckhand / Sailboat – Resembled Captain Ron played by Patrick Swayze. Had Intercourse with woman on board. Took shirt off twice.
Captain A340-600 Lufthansa German Airlines – Self explanatory.
Actor Disney World – Played WWI German flying ace with pants pulled up to knees and scarf wearing those big goggles for the Indiana Jones show. Fired for wearing outfit in public.
Activities
Water Polo Champion, outside of Fabians Pool.
Interior Decorator of John Antinore's Condo.
Never letting the best things of my life go.
ck needy needy needy.
Tailgate - Closed.
Original:Thursday, October 09, 2008
Tailgate - closed.
I breathed on my monocle and cleaned it fervently with my monogramed handkerchief, a scarlet CWK embroidered in the white cotton. I re-adjusted my top hat and bow tie, and in preparation for greatness i sipped at the crystal tumbler holding three clear ice cubes, battling with all their might against the fire of the brownish liquid that attacked them from all angles.
The discussion : Tailgating.
The PPtrain delivered the line that I could not combat...
"The event is never as great as the tailgate.." Touche, my friend.
The worst part of this discussion was that he was right. I remember our most famous tailgates, from Giants games, to Dave Matthews, to the Belmont Stakes. I can not attest to the Belmont Stakes because going in to the event all I can remember is Grey Goose, Grass, sweat, and pavement.
After further thinking about it, I have to tend to agree. The tailgate is the most exciting part of the event. As the PPTrain even said, " Its quite a letdown [once you enter the venue]"
You prepare yourself weeks before the tailgate. You think about the menu, the beverage selections, the type of appetizers, what type of entertainment, and you even run through the hookup options.
Menu Frozen Burgers/Hotdogs - boring..What you need are fresh sausages with a fresh italian bread, even homemade burgers make the cut.
Beverage There is nothing wrong with cold beer, or keg for the advanced players. Full Bar never hurts.
Entertainment Probably the best entertainment I was able to accomplish was when me and the fabulous Fabe tailgated at the Meadowlands for Dave Matthews. Devoid of a frisbee, football or any type of ball, we improvised and had a putting contest on the pavement. We were flocked with girls, most of them, though, had names like Dee Dee, and Dottie. A couple of the balls dissappeared.
Hook Up Options A girlfriend present is always nice, because its a sure shot of making out during "Dreaming Tree" or when Eli throws to Plex for a TD ( that celebration is reserved for Fabe).
But if you're stag, a friend is always nice. Not just any friend, but someone you think you have a shot with. If you dont have that option, making friends is always important. I like to wander to fellow female tailgaters offering them hot dogs, sausages, or money. Unfortunately you have to sniff out the underage gals, because some of them are out for college guys, ( or guys that were in college 6 years ago.)
Note: If you're a dude, triple kissing with another guy and girl is only ok if you are good friends with the guy and you declare "No homo" before the event ( or within 7 years after the event )
A great idea would be to rent out an old drive in and charge people 10 dollars to park and tailgate. Its everything without the things you dont need - expensive drinks, stuck up girls, class, - but most importantly, the letdown of the end of the game, or that concert that could have sucked.
In the end, you'll always get me selling tie die shirts, or hats at a modest markup. I cant promise I wont eat all the pretzels.
ck Palmer.
Tailgate - closed.
I breathed on my monocle and cleaned it fervently with my monogramed handkerchief, a scarlet CWK embroidered in the white cotton. I re-adjusted my top hat and bow tie, and in preparation for greatness i sipped at the crystal tumbler holding three clear ice cubes, battling with all their might against the fire of the brownish liquid that attacked them from all angles.
The discussion : Tailgating.
The PPtrain delivered the line that I could not combat...
"The event is never as great as the tailgate.." Touche, my friend.
The worst part of this discussion was that he was right. I remember our most famous tailgates, from Giants games, to Dave Matthews, to the Belmont Stakes. I can not attest to the Belmont Stakes because going in to the event all I can remember is Grey Goose, Grass, sweat, and pavement.
After further thinking about it, I have to tend to agree. The tailgate is the most exciting part of the event. As the PPTrain even said, " Its quite a letdown [once you enter the venue]"
You prepare yourself weeks before the tailgate. You think about the menu, the beverage selections, the type of appetizers, what type of entertainment, and you even run through the hookup options.
Menu Frozen Burgers/Hotdogs - boring..What you need are fresh sausages with a fresh italian bread, even homemade burgers make the cut.
Beverage There is nothing wrong with cold beer, or keg for the advanced players. Full Bar never hurts.
Entertainment Probably the best entertainment I was able to accomplish was when me and the fabulous Fabe tailgated at the Meadowlands for Dave Matthews. Devoid of a frisbee, football or any type of ball, we improvised and had a putting contest on the pavement. We were flocked with girls, most of them, though, had names like Dee Dee, and Dottie. A couple of the balls dissappeared.
Hook Up Options A girlfriend present is always nice, because its a sure shot of making out during "Dreaming Tree" or when Eli throws to Plex for a TD ( that celebration is reserved for Fabe).
But if you're stag, a friend is always nice. Not just any friend, but someone you think you have a shot with. If you dont have that option, making friends is always important. I like to wander to fellow female tailgaters offering them hot dogs, sausages, or money. Unfortunately you have to sniff out the underage gals, because some of them are out for college guys, ( or guys that were in college 6 years ago.)
Note: If you're a dude, triple kissing with another guy and girl is only ok if you are good friends with the guy and you declare "No homo" before the event ( or within 7 years after the event )
A great idea would be to rent out an old drive in and charge people 10 dollars to park and tailgate. Its everything without the things you dont need - expensive drinks, stuck up girls, class, - but most importantly, the letdown of the end of the game, or that concert that could have sucked.
In the end, you'll always get me selling tie die shirts, or hats at a modest markup. I cant promise I wont eat all the pretzels.
ck Palmer.
Strength and Honor
Original:Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Strength and Honor
I excitedly looked through the HBO channels to find just about nothing on. I was hoping to order the on-demand feature through the remote, but I think my roomate shut that ability off with the company on the phone. I had a little bit of a problem earlier last month, and lets just say the "Naked News" was on demand for the whole month of September.
Last night we were blessed with the movie Gladiator. Even though most of the movies on HBO we have on DVD, it still gets exciting when you see a good movie on, or coming on in the future. The worst is when you see in an hour that something like "Billy Madison" is coming on and you make plans to watch it, even though its in the DVD case in sight from where you are sitting.
"Oooh honey, Billy Madison is on at 5. We'll start dinner now so we can watch it while eating!" Thinking to yourself, " Im so excited!!!! I love that movie!!!! "
Well I have the opportunity to watch 'Gladiator' at any time, but when its on TV I dont have to go about taking it out of the case, putting it in the player, etc etc. After watching the movie, and realizing that I had the movie all along, I also realized something else that made me feel like such a weirdo.
As normal, I was enjoying my " Its-noon-somewhere "cocktail so I was extra amped up for the film. My 'sauciness' also led me to make out-loud comments during the movie while sitting alone on the couch.
-Scene where Marcus Aurelius asks for Maximus to take over his power after he dies and bring Rome back to a Republic-
"I will empower you to one end alone-- to give power back to the people of Rome..and end the corruptionthat has crippled it. Will you accept this great honor that I have offered you?""With all my heart, no." "Maximus... that is why it must be you."
I am pretending now that I am a servant in the background making some wine or fooling around with spices or a broom and think to myself, " So wise...." as I say this aloud on my couch with a shake of the head.
The next scene Maximus goes outside to think about taking the honor that Marcus has offered. This is where Marcus' daughter enters. In the movie you get the feeling that she wants him, or has had Maximus, and she flirts with him in this scene.
"What did my father want with you? " "To wish me well before I leave for home." "You're lying.I could always tell when you were lyingbecause you were never any good at it." (Sittng legs crossed with my wine I say "Mmm she wants to see how Maximus he is" with a sassy little shake of my neck from side to side. I chuckled - this is where I realized I have been talking to myself.) " I never acquired your comfort with it." - " True.But then you never had to.:"
I let out a soft "Mmmmmmm" under my breath.
I need to get some friends.
ck Charlotte.
Strength and Honor
I excitedly looked through the HBO channels to find just about nothing on. I was hoping to order the on-demand feature through the remote, but I think my roomate shut that ability off with the company on the phone. I had a little bit of a problem earlier last month, and lets just say the "Naked News" was on demand for the whole month of September.
Last night we were blessed with the movie Gladiator. Even though most of the movies on HBO we have on DVD, it still gets exciting when you see a good movie on, or coming on in the future. The worst is when you see in an hour that something like "Billy Madison" is coming on and you make plans to watch it, even though its in the DVD case in sight from where you are sitting.
"Oooh honey, Billy Madison is on at 5. We'll start dinner now so we can watch it while eating!" Thinking to yourself, " Im so excited!!!! I love that movie!!!! "
Well I have the opportunity to watch 'Gladiator' at any time, but when its on TV I dont have to go about taking it out of the case, putting it in the player, etc etc. After watching the movie, and realizing that I had the movie all along, I also realized something else that made me feel like such a weirdo.
As normal, I was enjoying my " Its-noon-somewhere "cocktail so I was extra amped up for the film. My 'sauciness' also led me to make out-loud comments during the movie while sitting alone on the couch.
-Scene where Marcus Aurelius asks for Maximus to take over his power after he dies and bring Rome back to a Republic-
"I will empower you to one end alone-- to give power back to the people of Rome..and end the corruptionthat has crippled it. Will you accept this great honor that I have offered you?""With all my heart, no." "Maximus... that is why it must be you."
I am pretending now that I am a servant in the background making some wine or fooling around with spices or a broom and think to myself, " So wise...." as I say this aloud on my couch with a shake of the head.
The next scene Maximus goes outside to think about taking the honor that Marcus has offered. This is where Marcus' daughter enters. In the movie you get the feeling that she wants him, or has had Maximus, and she flirts with him in this scene.
"What did my father want with you? " "To wish me well before I leave for home." "You're lying.I could always tell when you were lyingbecause you were never any good at it." (Sittng legs crossed with my wine I say "Mmm she wants to see how Maximus he is" with a sassy little shake of my neck from side to side. I chuckled - this is where I realized I have been talking to myself.) " I never acquired your comfort with it." - " True.But then you never had to.:"
I let out a soft "Mmmmmmm" under my breath.
I need to get some friends.
ck Charlotte.
Photo of the Week
Original:Saturday, October 04, 2008
Photo of the Week
My friends Joe, Mike, and Sal celebrating the intoduction of Barilla's new whole wheat pasta.
Grazi Barilla, Molto Grazi..
ck schatze.
Photo of the Week
My friends Joe, Mike, and Sal celebrating the intoduction of Barilla's new whole wheat pasta.
Grazi Barilla, Molto Grazi..
ck schatze.
NKOTB
Original:Friday, October 03, 2008
NKOTB
Man oh man, happy day, celebrate ! They are back ! The New Guys on the Street, how I once referred to them trying to be funny as a 9 year old, have returned bringing back a wonderful medley of Metrosexuality to our lives.
They gave hope to guys that had to bear the name Donnie, and Jonathan or Jon, spelled J-O-N. It gave so many their first kiss at places named " Lookout Point " when it was cool to just touch a boob on the outside of the shirt.
These gentleman were icons for any who's who in the dating world during the 1988-1991 era. Ive interviewed so many who reaped the benefits of songs like "Please Dont Go Girl" and how it changed their night. They all went something like this.
"Please Don't Go Girl"
(talking about Ms. Lefevere's French exam)
Do you have to leave? Please don't go girl I just can't live without you (comment on how jessica nelson has bad b.o. during gym class)Please don't go girl So listen to me... (Don't go, girl) Please don't go girl You would ruin my whole world Tell me you'll stay (eyes meet perspiration begins)
Never ever go away I love you (I love you) I guess I always will (go in for kiss)
Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within (the kiss - he thinks this is awesome, she thinks his breath smells like fries from Roy Rogers where he took her earlier, but he did say she could have ANYTHING from the menu)
just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (french kiss - young gentleman feels weird things down below - contemplates making a joke about french kissing and the french exam they talked about earlier to break up the uneasiness of the developing sexual situation)
Tell me you'll stay Never ever go away I need you (I need you) I guess I always will Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within (heavy petting begins)
just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (Please don't go girl) I'm gonna always love you girl I'm gonna love you girl until the end of time Tell me girl You're gonna always be mine (odd moment when gentleman squeezes boob a little too hard)Please don't go girl You would ruin my whole world Tell me you'll stay Never ever go away I love you (I love you) I guess I always will Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within I just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (girl has had enough - guy stops humping the bench seat of the 81 chevy nova his dad let him borrow, funny leatherish seat material makes awkward fart-ish noise as he settles back down behind the wheel)(Please don't go girl) (Please don't go girl) Please don't go girl (Please don't go girl) Please don't go, baby (Please don't go girl) Please don't go girl (Please don't go girl) Please don't go darlin' (Please don't go girl) Please don't go, baby, no (guy asks girl if she saw where his silver aviator sunglasses fell from atop his head - actually belongs to his dad too)
(follows up with "So how did you like the movie 'Twins'?)
ck cigarette sand bucket.
8:22 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Serendipity
Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely. The word has been voted as one of the ten English words that were hardest to translate in June 2004 by a British translation company. (From wikipedia)
ck
NKOTB
Man oh man, happy day, celebrate ! They are back ! The New Guys on the Street, how I once referred to them trying to be funny as a 9 year old, have returned bringing back a wonderful medley of Metrosexuality to our lives.
They gave hope to guys that had to bear the name Donnie, and Jonathan or Jon, spelled J-O-N. It gave so many their first kiss at places named " Lookout Point " when it was cool to just touch a boob on the outside of the shirt.
These gentleman were icons for any who's who in the dating world during the 1988-1991 era. Ive interviewed so many who reaped the benefits of songs like "Please Dont Go Girl" and how it changed their night. They all went something like this.
"Please Don't Go Girl"
(talking about Ms. Lefevere's French exam)
Do you have to leave? Please don't go girl I just can't live without you (comment on how jessica nelson has bad b.o. during gym class)Please don't go girl So listen to me... (Don't go, girl) Please don't go girl You would ruin my whole world Tell me you'll stay (eyes meet perspiration begins)
Never ever go away I love you (I love you) I guess I always will (go in for kiss)
Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within (the kiss - he thinks this is awesome, she thinks his breath smells like fries from Roy Rogers where he took her earlier, but he did say she could have ANYTHING from the menu)
just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (french kiss - young gentleman feels weird things down below - contemplates making a joke about french kissing and the french exam they talked about earlier to break up the uneasiness of the developing sexual situation)
Tell me you'll stay Never ever go away I need you (I need you) I guess I always will Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within (heavy petting begins)
just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (Please don't go girl) I'm gonna always love you girl I'm gonna love you girl until the end of time Tell me girl You're gonna always be mine (odd moment when gentleman squeezes boob a little too hard)Please don't go girl You would ruin my whole world Tell me you'll stay Never ever go away I love you (I love you) I guess I always will Girl, you're my best friend Girl, you're my love within I just want you to know That I will always love you Ooh, baby (girl has had enough - guy stops humping the bench seat of the 81 chevy nova his dad let him borrow, funny leatherish seat material makes awkward fart-ish noise as he settles back down behind the wheel)(Please don't go girl) (Please don't go girl) Please don't go girl (Please don't go girl) Please don't go, baby (Please don't go girl) Please don't go girl (Please don't go girl) Please don't go darlin' (Please don't go girl) Please don't go, baby, no (guy asks girl if she saw where his silver aviator sunglasses fell from atop his head - actually belongs to his dad too)
(follows up with "So how did you like the movie 'Twins'?)
ck cigarette sand bucket.
8:22 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Serendipity
Serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for something else entirely. The word has been voted as one of the ten English words that were hardest to translate in June 2004 by a British translation company. (From wikipedia)
ck
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