On Wednesday evening, I decided I was going to go to Boston for the weekend. I packed a bag, came into work today, asked for the day off tomorrow, and in a few hours I’ll be zipping up there on the Acela, crushing Bud Bombers (which, I learned only recently, you can buy and bring on the train – Bombers in Penn Station cost $2, whereas normal cans on the train cost $5).

You have probably figured out by now that I’m leaving the Northeast. I can’t say much more than that, because there are still a number of things to be worked out and it’s not even (close to a) definite yet, but it looks like ol’ Uncle Jason will be retiring to greener pastures soon enough. In the meantime, I’m intent on going on a pretty monstrous bender and maximizing my time here (in the Northeast). I was looking forward to a rowdy weekend when I sent some emails out yesterday and learned that five of my best buds here in NYC will be gone this weekend. This, compounded with the fact that a buddy of mine in Boston was recently laid off, made the decision easy for me. On Friday (tomorrow), he and I are pretty much going to find a bar at noon and then try to sit there drinking until close. Should we accomplish this, it will rank as one of the greatest achievements of my life. Whether that says something about my priorities/goals or the way I live my life, I leave for you to decide. However, I’m also going to Boston next weekend, over Easter, but I’m claiming that since these will be the last times I’m in Boston for awhile, this weekend is Part One of Two of my "Later, Boston" party. One weekend really isn’t enough.

So everyone is now officially on notice: my days in the greater Northeast part of America are numbered. I can promise you that I will not go out without a fight – they are going to have to drag me kicking, screaming, holding and spilling a can of Bud, and maybe even peeing myself a little bit, from this grand part of the country. It is on.

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For about the umpteenth time, we’ve been having some email problems.

Here’s the short of it: you email me at the jasonmulgrew.com address, which then gets forward to my personal email. Therefore, I no longer log onto the jasonmulgrew.com email website. This latest problem arose because some olderheads in my ‘hood send me forwards, which can be very large, and then one of you sent me a song, which is very large. Because I check only my personal email for your emails now (since they’re forwarded), I hadn’t checked the jm.com account in a long time. And because of the forwards and the song, it was maxed out and kept rejecting emails or putting them into the spam folder. So if you sent me something, say, in the past two weeks, I may not have gotten it.

(Translation: Please resend any boobie pictures and/or pictures of your girlfriend in the shower sent to me during that time. Thank you.)

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I have a question: who the hell is Tyler Perry?

I mean, I know who he is, because when I’m watching tivo’ed episodes of SVU from TBS, I constantly see commercials for his sitcom, in which he plays a half-dozen characters. It looks hilarious (sarcasm, much of it), and appears to be filled with the characters laughing at each other and then there’s a lot of threats to throw different people of the house. Recently he had a movie out called "Why Did I Get Married?" and ads were placed all over NYC. And now he’s got another movie coming out, "Meet the Browns," with ads everywhere as well. NYC officially has Tyler Perry fever.

What’s most impressive about all these ads and commercials is that they’re prefaced with "Tyler Perry Presents…" Do you know how much of a badass you have to be in Hollywood to get that line on or above a tv show or movie? The answer: extremely, extremely badass. Just-below-God badass. I-swim-around-in-a-room-piled-high-with-gold-like-Scrooge-McDuck-only-he’s-my-fucking-butler-because-I-can-afford-him badass. And yet I, as an average 28 year old white man, have absolutely no familiarity at all with Tyler Perry. And then I read this from wikipedia: 



"Perry produces a television show titled Tyler Perry’s House of Payne, which follows a working-class, African-American household with three generations of family within it. The show seeks to illustrate struggles with faith and love, as well as showing how to coexist with the generation gap. The show ran briefly in Spring 2006 as a 10 show pilot. After a successful pilot run, Perry signed a $200 million dollar 100 episode deal with TBS." (bold added)



In summary, I’m going to drop all you white jerks and focus on cultivating my African-American household-based humor. If Tyler Perry can get $200 million, I can probably squeeze $20,000 out of someone, which would make me 1/10,000th as good as him. I’m totally, totally ok with that.



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I think the girl in this commercial is just about the hottest girl ever.

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I mean, I gotta say that it doesn’t hurt that she’s in a commercial that’s overflowing with images of cheap Mexican food, but I think she’s got honey in her hips. For sure.

(God, I love Taco Bell.)

(Honey, not so much.)

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I hope you guys realize what an incredible guy Site Guy Brendan is. I don’t pay him anything, since I’m going to debtor’s prison and all, and when I did pay him, it was very little and mostly in the form of beer, but yet he still takes all of my frantic calls when something doesn’t post or I get a slew of MySpace messages from you guys saying your emails are getting bounced back/not answered. Also, for a guy who looks like Mr. Burns when he’s naked, he can really, really drink. God bless him. If you have the time, you should really send him a thank you note at brendan@jasonmulgrew.com.

(And no, I’m not saying all this because his brother is the sergeant in my home precinct in Chilita and I anticipate needing assistance – or at least favors – from the NYPD in my final weeks in the neighborhood. Not doing it for that reason at all.)

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Six Songs

"Rise Up With Fists" Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins

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I think I am about 98% in love with Jenny Lewis.

"Rainy Day Woman" Waylon Jennings
I truly, truly believe that if I had some sort of ill-fated tryst with a Southern woman, I could become a country music star. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.

"I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" The Ramones
This is probably my favorite Ramones song. What can I say? I hate the Ramones and love love.

(Although I’m starting to realize that I may not be suited to be anyone’s boyfriend, possibly for the rest of my life. I had a discussion about this – among the company of both male and female friends – and was told by both groups that I might need to seek help. To which I replied, "Help for what? For being too much awesome?" Dicks.)

(God, I’m so lonely.)

(Not really.)

(I think.)

"No One" Alicia Keys
My buddy Mark in LA has a keyboard. He doesn’t really play, but just has one. Last week when I was out there, I was over his place having beers with some friends and I started messing around with it (the keyboard). Though I don’t play piano either, I pretty much figured this song out (it’s really easy) and started singing along. And a little note for anyone who sings this song in public: the line is "people keep talking/they can say what they like," and not "people keep talking/niggas say what they like." Because I thought it was the latter. And it’s not. So I was told by everyone. So there.

"Let Your Loss Be Your Lesson" Robert Plant and Alison Krauss
I want to kiss her throat.

"Gila" Beach House
A recent addition to the "Let’s Make Out or Something" playlist. Although I’m not sure how long it’ll stay there, because in the middle of the song the singer sings "oh-oh-oh-oh-oh" over and over again, and it sounds mildly creepy and sexual. The only song that actually got removed from the "Make Out" playlist was Broken Social Scene’s "Anthem for a Seventeen Year Old Girl." Yes, the title is really creepy, but a ladyfriend I was bedding pointed out that it sounds like kids are singing, which is not what you want to hear while bedding. Of course, she could have been using this as an excuse, because once I plied myself from her to change the song, she threw sand in my eyes, temporarily blinding me, and ran out of my bedroom. And yes, I was sleeping with Mr. Fuji. Or maybe Mr. Fuji’s sister. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with the Asians, especially with the chubby ones. Anyway, this is a good make out song. For now, I think.

[Have a good weekend]