Articles Archive for January 2005
Just thought you should know that blind accordion players are apparently not uncommon. I hail from Melbourne, Australia, and here we have a blind accordion player called Bernadette who plays in various streets all over the city. No shit, she is practically famous here. You might be onto something with that convention accident theory.
Jason MJPAE Mulgrew
- the fire was started in a room no bigger than a kitchen, which is unguarded and impossible to fireproof
- this caused “the worst damage to the subway infrastructure since September 11, 2001″, and will take “several millions of dollars and several years” to repair (after 9/11, the four stations that were closed after the attack were opened within one year)
- the A line will run one-third of the normal amount of trains; the C will no longer exist
- the A-C have a combined ridership of 580,000 each weekday
- only two companies in the world can repair the signals: one in Pittsburgh, the other in Paris
- there are dozen of these kitchen-sized signal rooms throughout the NYC subway system
- quote of the day from transit historian Clifton Hood, who has been waiting his whole life for this moment: “It seems astonishing that a single signal room would be so central to the operation of the line that it would take five years to recover from”
Person Under the Influence of Cocaine: “Yes.”
Person: [pretending to be even more offended; flailing arms] “Am I sure? Of course I’m sure!”
“We have learned of possible delays on the downtown 4-5-6 trains along Lexington Avenue. We are working now to verify this, and will provide additional information as it becomes known to us.”
“We have not been able to verify reports of delays on the downtown 4-5-6 trains along Lexington Avenue. All trains are operating normally.”
And to be honest, I am completely fucking mesmerized by this. I’m not sure if it’s entirely egotism, but that plays a big part of it. But I don’t care, because it’s just so damn fascinating to me. When I started this little experiment in February of ’04, I sent it to a couple of friends, and now (with last week’s email from Shari in Antarctica) there are people who regularly visit this site from all seven continents (sure, it may be one person in Antarctica and like three in South Africa, but whatever – don’t be a dick).
Where am I going with this? A few weeks ago, I noticed that I got some visitors from this site that was setting up a “Best of Blogs” awards. I saw that someone had nominated me for “Most Humorous Blog” and of course I immediately went on and said something to the effect of, “Fuck you all – my blog is the shit. Suck it. Does anyone have any cheese or cheese-products that they’re not gonna eat?”
I forgot about it, until I noticed some more visitors were coming from it, because I had been officially nominated in “Snarkiest Blog” category, so I posted about it. I thought to myself, “Holy shit – I have to win this award. I could really use a nice prize. I really, really hope it’s a bag of cocaine, because I am hurtin’ something awful. Also, I have never heard the word ‘snarky’ in my life, and have no fucking idea what it means.”
So I did a little more research on the awards, and was bit disappointed, because the prizes are L-A-M-E. They are:
Prize Package – First Place:
- One year FREE blog hosting from WiredHub.net Web Hosting Solutions, plus a FREE upgrade to the next level of service when the free period expires
- FREE porting of your existing blog to WiredHub.net from One by One Media
- FREE blog design from Ciao! My bella
- A copy of Gossip Girl: Because I’m Worth It by Cecily von Ziegesar from Time Warner Book Group and The Zero Boss
Prize Package – Second Place:
- Four months FREE blog hosting from WiredHub.net Web Hosting Solutions, plus 40% off on all hosting plans and a FREE upgrade to the next level of service
- $25 blog design gift certificate from Ciao! My bella
Prize Package – Third Place:
- One month FREE blog hosting from WiredHub.net Web Hosting Solutions, plus 40% off on all hosting plans and a FREE upgrade to the next level of service
I hate Mondays. I hate them so much. Right when I’m spoiled on getting a decent amount of sleep Monday rolls around and I have to get up godawful early to babysit and start the longass day.
I also had to grocery shop today (which I hate too). But I saved $30 in coupons and rolled home with a trunk full for $120. Didn’t get any meat though. The bloody commissary was out of chicken and pork. How the hell they managed that is beyond me but they did so now I have to go BACK in the morning and I hate that place.
I know you guys might get tired of me talking about how I beat off in the shower or how much I love hot dogs (I really do love hot dogs, though – I hope you all realize that), but grocery shopping? Really? I thought it might just have been a bad post, so I continued reading some of her other stuff. Let’s listen in…
I think we’re on week 3 of pretty much no sun. It’s so damn gloomy outside. I’m a miserable bitch as it is right? Gloomy weather just makes it worse.
Intense. S’more:
We went to Lori’s today to get a desk I bought from her in November. (Well mom bought it but anyway) .. it’s more of a desk/cabinet thing… I put it in our bedroom to hold our other tv and other random crap but I love it. It’s HUGE and HEAVY and it was a bitch getting it here but I love it. Thanks Lori!
While I was there she gave me something GrumpyBunny got for me when she was here at Thanksgiving but we kept missing each other. OMFG.. Girl you have NO idea how awsome this is. AND you need to tell me where you found it!
I haven’t been able to find Vanilla Schnapps and had given up until today. She got me a nice big bottle that will taste well with Cranberry juice and grenedine. Girls night indeed!
Thanks so much GB and Hubster!I worked all evening and now its 1:30 and I have to be up at 7:30 to start my babysitting week of fun all over again.
Again ladies and gentlemen, the current score is 417 votes to 178. And some more…
Tomorrow is “try to sleep in day” and “get some work and laundry done day”.
And I would kill for a glass of tea right now so off I go.
Through my tears of failure, I continued reading…
Newport News Virginia – it’s sunny and 70 (ignore the freak 14 inches of snow they got on Christmas that melted the next day)
Las Vegas – it’s 54 and they had snow the other day.
Phoenix – it’s 55 and raining (for the last week)What’s up with this weather? It’s supposed to be SUNNY HERE!
Again, I can not believe that I’m losing to this blog. Who the hell reads this? Really, at what point in your life are you at that you find entertainment in someone talking about grocery shopping or the weather or how their mom bought them a desk? Am I missing something here? Because if I am, please tell me. I don’t care about the prizes, or the “glory”, or, um, whatever else comes with these awards, but this is atrocious.
And these posts aren’t aberrations; I could go on and on citing lame examples, but I’ll stop there and move on to “Rockstar Mommy”.
Ironically or coincidentally enough, “Rockstar Mommy” currently has a post up about all the drama in the LBC surrounding the awards, writing,
…[T]here is just SO MUCH DRAMA going on behind the scenes, it’s disgusting. [If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky.]
Yes. We do consider ourselves lucky to be left out of such a tempest of hatred.
Since I have been nominated, I have been called ridiculous names and had my blog trashed, including the design. Not cool. Especially since it’s from people who I never even knew existed until the BoB awards came along – people I’ve never even talked to. Calling me names? Kinda childish and stupid. But making fun of my blog? I might start swinging. I like my blog, I like my design…leave my blogging skills the hell out of it and I won’t correct your 2nd grade grammar skills…
God her, blogs sux ass real badd.
I’m not the only one that has been unfairly attacked. I’ve heard plenty of stories going around about being trashed, made fun of, cheating, and even stories of people hacking into finalists sites. I mean, WTF people? What is wrong with you?
Is that why my site was down yesterday (and parts of it are down today)? You son of a…
These awards were supposed to be all in good fun, but there seems nothing fun to me about any of this. In fact, they’re just more of a nuisance now. I’m not equipt [sic] for all this jealousy, cattiness, and immaturity – another reason why I shouldn’t be in the snarky category.
Rockstar Mommy probably shouldn’t read my site then, since jealous and immaturity are two of my four best traits (along with disloyalty and obesity).
If you need an award so desperately to feel good about yourself, then maybe you deserve it; you obvioulsy [sic] need the attention. Too bad the prize package doesn’t include some extensive therapy sessions.
Just chill the fuck out people. I’m sick of hearing all the gossip. It’s so stupid. Play nice and leave me and my blog the hell out of it; we never did anything to any one of you – but trust me, we’re not afraid to.
If the prize package came with therapy, I would be VERY interested. Also, if you’re going to call people out on grammar, you gotta spell check. This is not hard people.
What the hell is up with the word vaccum? Vacum? Vaccuum? Vacume? Vacuum?
Who decided to spell it so half-assed backwords? It’s always been one of those words for me; no matter how many times I look it up, I still always think it looks wrong.
It’s spelled so stupid. Who decided to put 2 U’s together in the same word? I’d like to smack the taste right out of their mouth.
Vackyoom might look a little silly, but really, no sillier than with the 2 U’s put together – and at least it’s spelled like it sounds my way.
I think I’m going to put in a request with Merriam-Webster. Let’s see what kind of pull the nerds over there have and see if we can get it spelled my way. I mean, hell… if they can put the word noogie in the dictionary….
Also, I’ve never been able to spell the word
kneckneck correctly. I KNOW how to spell it, I just never can seem to do it. I always put a K before it. Like it’s a knob or a knot. Like a Kidiot.
But I guess I’m missing something, since this post got 21 comments.
…
And yet, I’m losing to these two blogs. Losing badly. Losing like it’s not even fucking close.
178 votes? How is it that I’ve had more visitors to this site today in one hour between noon and 1pm (est) than I have total votes? I understand it’s kind of a bitch, because once you vote, you have to confirm your vote via an email sent to you by BoB, but c’mon – let’s try to make this a little less embarrassing and throw me a bone here.
I know that I’m not gonna win, and I am totally ok with that. Another reason why I am skeptical about these awards is that you can vote once per email address per 24 hours, rather than once per email address, so the vote can be easily manipulated. For example, like many people, I have accumulated a lot of email addresses over the years, and I now have seven (!). Sure, I only use two, but the rest are active. Every day, over the fifteen days of voting, I could have used each of those email addresses to vote once per day, tallying 105 votes from just me alone. Breaking it down further, voting closes January 15, so it looks like the winner of this thing will have around 600 votes; I could have personally gotten myself 1/6 of the way there as just one (rather large) person voting. I’m not accusing anyone of doing this, but I’m saying that if you really wanted to win, you and a small group of friends could get together to make it happen, even if no one ever read your blog.
So let’s try to make it a little closer. That’s my pitch, take it or leave it. If you want to vote for me, fine. If not, well I never liked you anyway. Dick.
On Saturday night, I ventured way out into NJ to see a friend’s band, the Mossy Pools. This was a major act of altruism for me, as I don’t like to leave my apartment, let alone the isle of Manhattan, unless I can be guaranteed a fun time to end all fun times.
Dave: “Well that explains it.”
Joe: “Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you’re going to Jersey to go out, unless you’re going down the shore for a weekend. Is this a joke? Or is there some girl you want to get on that’s gonna be there?”
Well it’s over.
All the holiday fuss, all the time off from work/school, all the drinking too much and overeating – all of it, over. Done. Gone until next year.
And now it’s January and I’ve got nothing to look forward to except it being really fucking cold for the next three months. And the annual Philadelphia Eagles collapse. And my annual trip to the emergency room on Valentine’s Day because I ingested a near-fatal concoction of barbiturates, a liter of Ketel One, two pints of Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream, some old raisins I found under the stove, and a decent-sized handful of fingernail clippings. Sweet. Fucking sweet.
But it is the New Year, and I feel compelled to make some resolutions that I have as much chance of following through with as I do of winning the Boston Marathon or watching “Growing Up Gotti” without stopping to masturbate (um, to Victoria Gotti, of course).
But before I make some meaningless resolutions for 2005, I’d like to take a moment to look back at the resolutions of 2004 to see how well I fared or how much I completely disregarded them. In the words of William Wallace, “Do it, and let the Anglush see you do it.”
2004 Resolution #1: Save $10,000 by the end of the year.
At the beginning of the year, I was at the height of my richness. I was paying a relatively small amount of rent, did most of my drinking indoors (because both I was afraid of the air and I ran into some trouble with the law that forced me to lay low for a while), and knew of several cheap places to both eat and drink in my old neighborhood, the Lower East Side.
But that all changed in spring when I moved to the Upper East Side, made famous by the theme song of the television show “The Jeffersons”, or what I call “That show about those black people from the ‘70′s who did a lot of dancing and had that catchy theme song”. Things got much more expensive: the cost of laundry doubled, groceries are extremely expensive ($7 for a bottle of shampoo??? Does it come with a free baby???), cheap but cool and not-fratty bars are very hard to find, and cabs to and from my place to where I go out cost around $25 a night, possibly more.
[Also, I've been buying a lot more cocaine. If you should know one thing about cocaine, it's that it's fucking awesome. If you should know two things about cocaine, it's that it's really awesome and you should try to bum it off other people because it's super expensive. And awesome.]
So now I have nothing. I’m the poorest I’ve been since right after graduation, when I was forced to put naked pictures of myself seductively playing with lunchmeat on eBay and spent every Tuesday evening at a gentlemen’s club in Harlem dancing pantsless to Prince songs (“Kiss”, “Pussy Control”, “Gett Off”, etc) for singles and an occasional onion ring from a bunch of middle-aged black men. Not my finest moment. Certainly not my worst, but not my finest either.
Verdict: major failure, even for me.
2004 Resolution #2: Find an awesome place to live.
I don’t think I really need to go into this. Lured by bells and whistles and shiny things like having an elevator (whose constant breaking down has caused me more anguish than my old fifth floor walk-up ever did), having doormen (who never bothered to learn my name but know it now because I didn’t give them a holiday tip and who I recently caught working with the Chinese delivery guy trying to slip dioxin into my General Tso’s chicken), and a gym and a pool (which I’ve not only never used but only looked at three times – twice by accident – after paying the $560 for yearly membership), I agreed to lengthen my commute by thirty minutes each way and increase my rent by $350 per month to live in the Upper East Side.
To quote Ron Burgundy, “Not a good decision.”
Moving on…
2004 Resolution #3: Have sex with eight women at once.
I think we all know how this turned out. Even if I amended it to “See eight boobies in the course of the year without first paying a cover” or “Talk to a woman at a bar for eight seconds before getting an erection that she thinks is only my keys”, I would have failed.
I mean, fuck.
2004 Resolution #4: Be more honest about my feelings with others and keep no secrets.
Finally, much success. I definitely think that I was much more open about how I felt both to my friends and to strangers in 2004. Some examples:
- To my friend Kevin: “To be honest, I never really liked you. Also, everyone talks about how bad your breath is behind your back.”
- To my friend Lauren: “You should know that after you hooked up with Ed he told everyone that you have weird boobs. I propose that you hook up with me so that I can do some field research in the hope of setting the record straight. I have always wanted to have sex with you, and I think this is an opportunity in which both our best interests could be served.”
- To my roommate Brian: “Do you remember when you told me that you beat off at work using a sandwich wrapper that you hot co-worker Kristen had left from her Subway sandwich? Well, I told some people, including your dad. Because that’s just weird, dude. I mean, what the fuck.”
- To my buddy Nick: “It’s a shame you proposed to Vicky, because we all hate her. We’ve actually hated her for years, but I never told you this before because I didn’t have this new New Year’s Resolution. But god, she is a bitch, and me and the guys regularly send emails about how terrible she is behind your back. Such a shame.”
There are countless examples, but these are the first that come to mind off the top of my head.
Verdict: excellent. Of course, I have about one-fourth of the friends I had this time last year, but hey – that’s their loss. Assholes.
2004 Resolution #5: Be more racist.
The jury is still out on this one. Sure, I’ve said my fair share of off-color things at parties like, “What’s the deal with black people and rims? And why were they always stealing my bike when I was a kid?” and “I hear Carla’s new boyfriend is Puerto Rican or Dominican or from one of those Mexico-type countries – maybe I can get him to clean my apartment for a handful of pesetas and an long, oversized white t-shirt” and (to random Asian person) “What do you like better: karate or AP Calculus?” And yes, maybe it wasn’t very PC of me when I got drunk at the Indian restaurant and started calling the waiter “Kumar”, but at heart I just don’t think I have the racism in me.
[And yes, I'm only saying this because I know that there are people of the non-white persuasion reading this, and I'm afraid they'll find me and kick my ass. I never said I was a strong man.]
So those were 2004′s resolutions. Overall, not good (shocking – I know). And now I am proud to present, for the first time ever, my New Year’s Resolutions for 2005.
2005 Resolution #1: Save $15,000 by the end of the year
I know, I know – I couldn’t save $10G’s last year, but this year I’m focused. And by “focused” I mean “talking out my ass.”
I have, however, devised an aggressive savings plan. I have a
But now I’ve added a new element: in addition to collecting the silver coins, I’m going to start throwing in paper money. The amount is based on a variety of factors, and serves two purposes – to get me to save money and to get me to cut back on my vices.
For example, every time I…
- Masturbate: I’ll put in $1
- Masturbate in an exotic location (work, public restroom, middle-school talent show): $5
- Wish death upon an enemy: $3
- Wish death upon my cruel, tiny penis: $7
- Stay in on a Thursday night: $5
- Stay in on a Friday or Saturday night: $20
- Go to the “Erotica” section on craigslist and illicit some company: $50
- Cry when I’m drunk because a girl passed me by and she smelled nice: $20
- Cry when I’m drunk because I punched a moving car and it really hurt: $25
- Pee the bed: $50
- Shit the bed: $100
I should be up to $15G’s by the summer (especially because of that “shit the bed” one).
2005 Resolution #2: Find an awesome place to live.
If any of you know any realtors in NYC, please get them to get in touch with me in May, because I am going to overpay tremendously for any apartment that is not my current one and is somewhere in the East Village/LES area. Good lord. I can see it now:
Realtor: [showing me a 7x9 studio apartment above an Indian restaurant that currently has a large homeless family squatting in it and no roof] “Feel free to look around. Sure, it needs some work, but $2200 a month for your very own place in the East Village is a steal!”
Me: [picking up used syringes from floor and sticking them in my arm] “I’ll take it!”
I’m a simple man. I don’t need a lot of room. I don’t need things like a doorman, an elevator, or a gym. All I want is something that’s close to where I work (way downtown) and close to where I go out (all kinds of places below Union Square). God I hope I can find it. Because otherwise, well, I don’t even want to get into it.
2005 Resolution #3: Have sex.
This should be amended to “Have sex without paying for it directly”. Jerk-off guys pimp the line of thinking that all women are prostitutes, because in order to have sex with them you have to take them out and pay for their stuff, so that the bottom line is that sex with them costs money, and that’s prostitution.
These men have probably never been with a prostitute. Going on a date in which you enjoy some food and booze and steal an occasional cleavage shot while regaling your date with stories about the time you finished 13th in the Philadelphia City Spelling Bee in 7th grade or how you got hit by a car six times as a child is NOT soliciting prostitution. Taking your dad’s truck and driving around the streets of South Philly at 5am after drinking for twelve hours to find some junkie to give $13 for a beejer IS soliciting prostitution. Are we clear on this?
[Where the hell did that come from?]
Anyway, let’s all keep our fingers crossed for this one. Please.
2005 Resolution #4: Rejoin the gym.
It’s getting to the point that it’s becoming very disconcerting that I lose my breath when I stand up quickly, or that I need at least a four hour nap after each time I masturbate.
I have no delusions of grandeur about (re)joining the gym. I know that there will never be at time that I will be able to run through a meadow of daisies on a warm spring day, the sun shining upon my toned and tan body, as I leap and frolic into the arms of my lover, played alternatively by Josie Maran, Adriana Lima, and Kate Beckinsale. No, I know the more likely scenario would be me running into a field with a six-pack of Bud in me, stopping every fifteen feet to catch my breath or take a short nap, before deciding to forego the whole “running” idea altogether and pulling out some macaroni and cheese from my pocket, quietly sitting down to enjoy it.
But I am in terrible shape. As of right now, I can’t even think about a gym without getting tired. Dialing a phone number can put me out of commission for three days. Chewing is exhausting, so I’ve been putting my food in a blender so that all I have to do is swallow it. I’m a few Reubens and carrot cakes away from having to install a pulley system in my bedroom to get me out of bed. I know I have a penis somewhere, but all I’ve seen for the past few years is a yellow stream of urine shooting from under my belly.
So I want to rejoin the gym. This is because when (if?) I do have sex again, I want to be healthy enough for sexual activity. I know that I have a ways to go, but never underestimate my determination.
(Actually, always underestimate my determination and you’ll be better off)
2005 Resolution #5: Get super fucking famous.
I need this one way more than the others. The main reason I want to be famous is that I’d be so good at it. Getting fucked up, being surly, banging women who only want my money, alienating friends and family – I’m already 75% of the way there!
However, I’m not getting my hopes up, only because I don’t think I could stand such a crushing let-down. In the meantime, I’m just going to keep on keepin’ on and hope to god that someday soon I get to have sex with Lindsay Lohan. And there’s NO WAY I’m going to wear a condom, even thought she’s gotta have at least HPV. It’s just not gonna happen.
…
So there you have it: my resolutions for 2005. Be sure to check back in a year to see how I did (if I’m still talking to you, which I doubt I will be, because we will surely have a falling out by the end of the year, probably in the summer).
