Little Ado About Nothing

I wish I had something tantalizing and exciting to talk about tonight and while the last few days haven’t exactly been uneventful, I’m not feeling particularly inspired tonight. Maybe I’ll just give you a midweek recap. I suppose that will quench your thirst for my exploits.

Tuesday afternoon after a trip to the gym and a hearty job search I sauntered off to bask in the sun that beat down on Washington Square Park and the vast majority of the New York Metropolitan area. My aim was to finish reading Sarah Vowell’s Assassination Vacation, as I only had about 20 pages left. I figured I’d probably be back inside in a half hour or so. Halfway through my second page, the phone rang. It was my old AP Damien from my PA days on VH1’s Top 20 Video Countdown with Aamer Haleem. He asked if I wanted to grab a drink. You know me; I have a hard time turning down a drink due to my incumbent alcoholism. Damien suggested we meet at Hop Devil on St. Marks and A only upon my arrival said establishment was closed. We settled on grabbing drinks at Bua just up the block and lucky for us it was happy hour and they had Boddington’s Pub ale. Happy hour and Boddington’s…a winning combination. Anyway, Damien and I caught up and talked about work. Apparently Damien has his own company and hopefully that company will be able to employ me at some point, as employment is much needed. He also is working on plenty of interesting projects and even has an art gallery. While I’ve been wasting away he’s been exploring many facets. I should take a lesson from that. Damien’s friend Zach soon joined us. He had just broken up with his girlfriend, gotten into a fist-fight the previous night, and was having a breakdown. On the stoop next to us, there were a couple of dudes collecting money for a beer fund. They kept trying to get girls attention by asking if they were “America’s Next Top Model”. It was really juvenile but actually kind of funny after awhile. Damien gave them some money for cigarettes. Happy hour lasted for about 3 beers, this is to say probably two hours give or take.

Walking home with a grin ear to ear from my buzz, I decided to get some Chinese Mexican food. As I entered my favorite Chexican establishment I rummaged through my cargo shorts for my wallet only to realize it wasn’t in the multiple front pockets where my wallet is always stashed in during the summer months. These pockets are seemingly completely secure but my wallet was somehow absent. I felt completely panicked and wondered where my wallet could be. It was then I remembered my wallet falling out of my hip pockets once before and came to the conclusion that this must have happened again while I was walking. In my state of pleasant buzz instead of putting the wallet in a secure front pocket I must have placed it in a shallow hip pocket. There’s no feeling quite as helpless as realizing you don’t have your money, credit cards, ATM Card,, and identification. I stood outside of the Chexican restaurant completely dumbfounded. How could I have let this happen? Then just as I was about to dejectedly walk home the guy that always knows what I’m going to order in the restaurant asked, “Why are you leaving”? I explained to him my predicament and he told me not to worry, I could pay for it next time. Like Blanche Dubois, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers, but this seemed ridiculous. I was extremely grateful. As I strolled back into the restaurant and readied to order my meal I reached my thumbs into my back pocket and felt a trace of leather against my thumb. Encouraged by the brush of material against my finger I plunged my entire hand into my back pocket to discover the triumphant return of my beloved mess of a wallet. Hallelujah! I was able to pay for my meal and the rest of my evening’s activities. What a sudden turn of events! I know what you’re thinking, “Why didn’t you just check there in the first place?” The answer to that query is, because I never ever put my wallet in my back pocket. The Boddington’s apparently killed some brain cells and changed my monetary storage habits.

My Black Bean Enchilada from my favorite Chexican joint was quite delicious but I didn’t take the time to savor it as I had to head to Village Tavern for Jill M’s 26th birthday celebration. I think I got there at 7:30 and spent a couple of hours of drinking beer, playing pool and having general good times with Kristin, Jill, David, Bill, Justin, Ana, Ghazalle, and some other folks. At one point the only people left were myself, Jill, David, and Kristin. We ended up the night by getting some McDonald’s and one more beer at the Fat Black Pussycat. Oh yeah, and I forgot, Jill whom I have known for the past 2 years as a brunette was as blonde as blonde coujld be. That was slightly shocking but I’m sure I’ll get used to it even if I do walk by her the next couple of times we meet up to hang out.

The next morning I woke up surprisingly not hung over at all. I guess the minimal consumption of McDonald’s worked wonders. After showering off the remaining toxins I headed down to TPAC on Chambers Street to volunteer at the Tribeca Film Festival. I had been assigned to work on a panel about the new film Flight 93 and generally about Art after 9/11. I really don’t have feelings good or bad on the panel. I haven’t seen the film they were talking about so I really had no frame of reference as to what was being talked about the majority of the time. I got out of my volunteer gig at 2:45 and headed home to catch the Met game which was a torturous seesaw of a game that ultimately resulted in a Mets victory but a StatTracker ™ debacle. I left before the game ended to catch a free surprise film offered to film festival volunteers. The movie itself was held at what I think was Robert DeNiro’s private screening room. I got to the venue at 7:30 and made friends with some volunteers prior to the screening. The surprise film ended up being a foreign film called Brasilia. Guess what, it was from Brazil. Anyway, I could give it a full review but overall I didn’t find it to be that enthralling. It wasn’t awful, I just don’t think it will go down in the annals of time as a special picture. I could be wrong but I also could be right. At least it wasn’t too long to keep me from catching an all new South Park.

This morning I awoke to see another beautiful day. The sun was shining and I was still jobless, making it somewhat less beautiful. However, I still perused the job sites and kept at it. Then I moved the action to the gym where I had quite the three for Thursday block of videos on the Elliptical Machine Screen. First up was, The Clash “Rock The Casbah” which is always a crowd pleaser. As I prepared to remove my headphones from the jack to go back to my Ipod, Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” came on and I had to give in to the guilty pleasure. I really hate to admit it but it’s a catchy song and I really miss punk posing Avril. When this classy, womanly image came out with her sophomore effort, I was not feeling it. Furthermore, I decided that “Complicated” could be a future karaoke number. After that was Paula Abdul’s “Opposites Attract” which is a karaoke favorite of mine, but I hadn’t seen the video quite some time and I started openly chortling as I continued to labor on my elliptical machine, probably arousing suspicion of those around me. After my return from the gym I went back to Washington Square Park and attempted to read the post but some crazy guy was throwing stuff violently around the fountain. After awhile this and the fact that the clouds had overtaken the sun forced me back in. That’s really all she wrote for the rest of the day. I ate Chinese food for dinner and watched Wayne’s World On demand. Now I’m typing this and now I’m done.

Marijuana and Me

04/20/06 12:10PM
Hey look at the date. Happy Smoking Marijuana day, stoners. I think that covers half of my audience. Now, I hope the rest of you have a happy, normal, non-drug induced day experience. Most people would have a hard time believing I do not smoke pot. In high school I found it more satisfying to spend my money on compact discs so I never developed a habit. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t around the drugs. Some friends in High School even requested that I come over their house when they smoked because I was “chill to hang out with”.

The extent of my Marijuana experience prior to a Summer 2001 three-day stay in Amsterdam consisted solely of watching friends inhale the reefer in various backyards, cars, bedrooms, and garages across Rockland County, Syracuse, and New Brunswick, New Jersey. My least favorite place to be in the presence of marijuana was and still remains the car. Often times while hanging out with high school friends everyone would go for a ride together in somebody’s car and pass around the ol’ doobie. Ironically, I was the only one completely paranoid about being pulled over and being charged with possession. We would go to the movies 10 minutes early just so my friends could drive around the mall parking lot and kill a joint as I impatiently sat in the back seat longing for previews.

One particular unsettling Marijuana car experience involved myself, another Jewish Rockland County-ite and a certain Pakistani Rockland County-ite driving back from New Orleans through the state of Alabama. Now, this isn’t really a crazy story but the entire jointslength of time I was driving I kept imagining what would happen in Alabamian Jail to two Jews and a Pakistani from New York who had been busted for possession. I also kept thinking, if we get taken down, do we all get taken down? I don’t even smoke. Are they going to let me take the fall for this? This is again ironic because I was more paranoid than the people who were smoking the substance that is known for making people paranoid. Anyway, at one point the friend who was riding shotgun released the joint out the window only to panic that it entered through the back window. We had to pull over to make sure our bags weren’t about to burn up in the back of the car. Luckily for us, the joint had exited the vehicle and my fears of Alabama justice were not reached throughout the rest of the drive’s duration.

My one and only flirtation with the bud didn’t even occur in smoke form but in the friendly guise of a muffin. Four of my friends and I were making our way through Europe and had scheduled a three day pit stop in the European capital of vice that is Amsterdam. Upon our arrival we made our way straight to a marijuana café as many tourists are wont to do. Upon our arrival my friends grabbed a menu and picked their poison. I on the other hand ordered a “Space Cake” from the bar and joined my friends at their table. Next to our table there was a huge marijuana plant enclosed in glass. I willingly took several pictures in front of it, the joke being that I of course do not smoke. However, when in Rome, or in this case Amsterdam, do as the Romans or Amsterdamiens(?) do. I opened my space cake wrapping and read the disclaimer that warned inexperienced marijuana users against eating the entire muffin at once. I heeded its warning only taking in half. After the ensuing marathon smokefest my friends enjoyed we walked around the town and I had yet to feel any effects of this powerful pastry. While in an Internet café I felt a wee bit light headed. I also noticed that the mouse cursor was moving around kind of weird but I thought nothing of it. Later at the hostel I shrugged off the effects and ate the rest of my cake and took a midday nap.

When the evening came we headed out to cruise around the red light district and to an amusing sex show complete with a stripper who mouthed the words to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” as she went through the various stages of undress. After this experience it was back to the café. I sat with my friends as they blazed through more buds. I was repeatedly offered but did not take part in the cypher. As we left the café I decided that I was disappointed in the previous “space cake” proclaiming that I felt nothing and that I would have another one before the end of the day, so I bought one. This time, I did not heed the warning on the label and devoured the muffin, which had a flavor similar to that of a lemon-poppy muffin, in one fell swoop. As we lounged in our hotel room my travel mates decided to smoke a little more before heading off to bed. At one point one of my friends noticed something moving on the ceiling. I attested this sighting to his stoned state and denied that what he was seeing existed. The object in question was a dot on the ceiling that was moving. I, trying to maintain an air of sobriety automatically denied the existence of his pot induced apparition. Only, I slowly realized that I too was transfixed by what he had noticed and that perhaps I too was not sober. It all came to a head when he said, something about crazy red lines and when I looked down from the ceiling I saw the red lines and I was admittedly stoned for the first time. Soon I came to realize that eating an entire space cake in the span of 5 minutes might not have been such a great idea. I went to lie down and soon everyone would head off to bed, but the difference was that I was not sleeping. My heart was pounding and I thought I was going to throw up. I was completely freaking out inside. I went to the bathroom and sat for what seemed like an eternity enjoying several dry heaves, then I came to the realization that nothing was coming up it was just a sort of numbness from the ingredients in the space cakes setting in. The moment I realized that it was fine.

Despite the harrowing experience of my first day on Marijuana, I stuck with my “when in Rome (Amsterdam)” attitude and had a muffin the very next day. My heart pounded a bit but mostly I just got tired and nearly fell asleep whilst drinking a Heineken at the bar. Since leaving Amsterdam I haven’t touched the stuff but that doesn’t stop everyone I ever meet from thinking I’m the biggest stoner in the Universe. This has been a 4/20 tale. Stay tuned. Maybe I’ll have something to say next 4/20 or maybe I’ll have succumbed to the cannabis.

Why Is This Week Different From All Other Weeks?

Well for one it’s the first week in a long time that I’ve hung around my family for two whole days in a row. That has to be some sort of record. However, there are several more reasons that it is different. It’s probably the first time I’ve been to a Broadway show in 10 or so years and it has also brought us the beginning of the Passover (Pesach) holiday. It’s a shame with all of that going on I haven’t managed to make even a dollar through my store or from working.

Tuesday during the day (wow, no seque, eh?) I did some wandering around as well as Met game watching before meeting my family at Joe Allen for some Pre-theater dinner on 46th street. The meal was okay if unremarkable but there was much anticipation in the air prior to venturing into the critically lauded Broadway producton of Spamalot. I tend to be skeptical of most adaptations or remade productions, as well as movies or shows that everyone raves about, so I was extremely apprehensive heading into the Monty Python and The Holy Grail based Spamalot. As I walked through the doors to the theatre I saw the Broadway tourist machine spring into motion. There was any number of Spamalot related products; original cast recordings, programs, and shirts. Though I was pleased to see the acknowledgement of the plays origin on the souvenir table, as there were Monty Python live DVD’s and a Monty Python documentary. Perhaps my favorite item was the Killer Rabbit stuffed animal. It may have been the best piece of Broadway merchandising and though skeptical of what awaited me I let out an amused chuckle.

Now, to be honest I’m not a fan of Broadway musicals. I’ve always abhorred people breaking out into song for no good reason. There are very few instances in which I find an inspired burst into song to be acceptable. The first acceptable instance is while I’m in the shower. I’ve given myself that license. Probably the only other acceptable musical outburst has to do with South Park episodes or movies. Team America: World Police and South Park Bigger, Longer, and Uncut contain some of the most memorable songs to date. However, on stage outbursts about forbidden love and dancing children are things I wish to avoid at all costs. As the show began, a historian came out to describe Middle Ages England, which led to a performance of a song about Finland, loosely derived from a similar song on one of the Monty Python comedy albums but adapted to be even more silly for the stage. Normally, if anything is changed from the way I originally remembered it I am immediately bothered, but I did not feel irked in the least. Instead, I felt an odd mixture of amusement, delight, and relief that told me everything was going to be okay, and it was. I was aware that they probably could not have adapted Monty Python And The Holy Grail as it was to the stage and they changed it around enough to make me feel like I was seeing something familiar yet fresh. It seemed as though a large portion of the musical aimed at taking the piss out of Broadway and the institution of the Broadway Musical. Nothing seemed sacred as the traditional Broadway love ballad was lampooned, heroic masculine knights came out of the closet, obscenities were unleashed in front of children, and it was declared “you can’t make it to Broadway if you don’t have any Jews.” During the song which contained the latter sentiment, I wondered how many Midwestern people in the audience who may have never met a Jew felt awkward about laughing.

Though some of my favorite moments of the movie did not make it into the production I was glad to see the Prince Herbert in the tower scene as well as “The Knights who say Ni” amongst other scenes. By the end of the show I was smiling and glad I made it out to the theatre for such an event. Who knows, maybe I’ll make it back there in another 10 years or so.

After the play, my brother went to some benefit thingy and I went with my mom and Step-dad in the car back to Rockland County (that’s where all of The Rock comes from) for Passover. The Seder was Wednesday and what would be the point of taking a train home the next day if I didn’t have any work on Wednesday. Hey, free ride. Forty-Five minutes later we were home and my house was freezing. I don’t know what it is, but my mom likes to keep the house on ice. I think I saw my breath at some point while watching TV.

Wednesday morning came after a lovely ten-hour sleep on my lovely comfy childhood bed. This came after a three hour Monday night sleep. I was thankful for the extra time. Crankiness would’ve been the order of the day had my mother woken me up at some ungodly hour. My day in Rockland was spent doing more job perusal on the Internet. So really it was no different from my life at my apartment. The highlight of my day was when my mom sent me to the Stop ‘n’ Shop to pick up some missing seder ingredients. The highlight of that highlight was when I was walking in the supermarket and realized that the aisle the candles I had to get were in was called the “Super Savings Spot”. It seemed as though I was living out a scene in a movie about suburban boredom as I mindlessly trolled down the fluorescent-lit aisles with floors so clean you could eat off looking for macaroons and chocolate matzos. Though to be fair, those items were in the special Passover aisle, not the” Super Savings Spot”. Okay, wait when I said the “Super Savings Spot” was the highlight of my trip home but really it was the actual ride to and from the Supermarket. There’s no better place to listen to music than your car when you are alone. On my way home from the Stop ‘n’ Shop (formerly Grand Union throughout my childhood) I blasted the new Loose Fur album while driving through the curvy mountainous neighborhood with the windows down. It was one of those all time great feelings that I miss but I feel that if I were living somewhere that such an occurrence was commonplace, it would somehow mean less.

At around 6:30 pm the Seder gathering commenced. Longtime family friends Rhona, Stuart, Camille, Jack, and Nerissa joined us. As usual we only made it through the halfway point of the Seder. We only ever make it to the 2nd cup of wine, which is when you’re supposed to eat the meal. What a meal it was though, Turkey, Brisket, Matzo Ball Soup, Sweet Potatoes, grilled mix vegetables. It was a vast array of delicious food. Afterwards we’re either too stuffed or too uninterested in continuing. We left out the tradition where you’re supposed to open the door for Elijah the Prophet to come in and drink a cup of wine that you leave out for him. We left the cup out for him; we just didn’t let him in. I’m sure Elijah didn’t have a problem finding other Jews in the neighborhood. He probably got drunk before he got to our door and decided he’s call it a night anyway. We sat down and had a nice dessert and soon after everyone left. I drove my car back into the city with my brother while listening to the Minus 5 album. Really the best place to sit and listen to a new album is on a long car drive, or at least a car drive that can last an entire album. You can really figure out if you like an album or not in that time. If you start skipping songs right off the bat, maybe it’s not such a good album. Anyway, that was Seder day.

I woke up this morning, Thursday, at around 9:45am and no calls for work came in. I did a little job hunt but then decided to take advantage of the sunny weather and do a little reading in Washington Square Park for an hour. I’ve got about 70 pages left in A Confederacy of Dunces. I thought I’d finish it before and it’s not that I’m reading slow but sometimes I’m taking a couple of days between going back to it. I am really enjoying it though and I’m excited to be nearing the end since I really am not sure where it could be going. Well that’s not completely true, I see a convergence of characters but the outcome remains a mystery to me and I think that really makes a difference between good literature and crappy literature.

When I got back from the park I sat down to watch the Mets game. I don’t know what to say, the Mets are awesome. I may end up talking about the Mets every day. I know that might bore everyone to death but I was watching the game and I just kept thinking, “I can’t believe how good the Mets are! They just keep getting hits and scoring runs! This is awesome!” Cross your fingers and hope it continues.

I was about to go to the gym at 4:30 when my roommate Ellen came home with beer and her friends Lindsey, Kiera, and J.R. came over. That took care of the rest of the night mostly. When they left and Ellen went to bed I got a drink with Kristin E at Marie’s Crisis. Note to self: Stop drinking so much and go to the gym tomorrow. You’ll probably feel better.

Neko and The Witty Banter

“She’s real fine my 409.” What am I talking about? It’s April 9th so I’m just quoting the Beach Boys and while they weren’t referring to April 9th it was the first thing I thought of when I typed the date out. Moving right along, to the weekend recap. Well first thing’s first I had a minor league hangover when I first awoke early Friday morning after Thursday’s festivities. I probably should have had more to eat before going out drinking the previous night and even though I had barbecue afterwards, I was still feeling slightly nauseous and brain dead at 8am in the morning. At around 9:20am I got a call to temp at a Synagogue on the Upper East Side from 11 to 3. It was quite odd and I was extremely reluctant to work it since the pay wasn’t that great, but really what temp job has the benefit of great pay?

I arrived at the Synagogue at 10:45 am via a maze of unnecessary subway transfers. My brief tenure as receptionist was generally uneventful. Phones were answered and envelopes were stuffed, my elder Jewish woman supervisor nagged as elder Jewish women are wont to do. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how or why most of the older Jewish women I’ve met seem to work so hard to validate the stereotype of the Jewish mother. This woman, though very nice, checked every 2 minutes to make sure that I was stuffing envelopes correctly as if there were some hidden mystery behind folding paper and sliding it inside an 4 1/2 x 9 1/2 inch enclosure. Well at least I was occupied for the afternoon.

Upon arriving home after 3pm I just wasted away in preparation for my Friday evening activity and when the Mets-Marlins game came on I was transfixed for a few minutes before I had to depart. I met Marie L and Zak at Webster Hall at about 8:40pm to go see Neko Case. The only problem was that Zak and Marie had tickets but I did not. I asked the bouncer if they had released any tickets day of show but I was met with a stone-faced “sold out” reply. As I expressed my chagrin over the seeming lack of ticket buying possibilities to my fellow concert going friends I heard the bouncer utter the words “that guy over there”. I turned around to see him pointing at me. I was saved, but not in a biblical sense. Finding a Neko Case ticket was not going to get me to heaven unless it was musical heaven (wow that was awful). I gladly paid the friendly concertgoer for his ticket and introduced myself. His name was Kevin and he was on the list but he had bought 2 tickets and only had one friend with him. Shortly after entering the venue I thanked Kevin and we parted ways as I joined Marie and Zak in establishing a location that would give us a clear view of the stage. Neko stepped on stage promptly at 9pm. At first we thought it was the opener the High Dials but apparently we missed them. Just before the show started I turned around to see Janet Turley and her friend behind us. It was quite the coincidence since it was Janet’s birthday and I was supposed to go to her birthday party the next day. Janet went upstairs with her friend to watch the show and I turned around and reestablished my position. I had a crystal clear view of the stage and the sound was fantastic as well. Neko has such a strong beautiful voice and every note sounded pitch perfect. The first two or three songs my attention was focused on the stage until the 2 or 3 girls behind me started to engage in the most uninteresting of small talk at a louder than acceptable decibel level. I shot them some death glares but they continued their obnoxious banter. I even made an ally in the girl next to me who was also annoyed by the persistence of their conversation. Two songs later they were still talking and the force field protecting the personal space of myself Zak, and Marie had collapsed. It was time to make a lateral move.

Normally , I hate when people move around a lot at shows but this was necessary. I think we may have pissed some people off as we slipped through the crowd. As we descended upon our final standing place I thought I saw my friend Maureen’s brother Stephen and did a little slo-mo drive by wave but it was sort of half assed since I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, so they didn’t see me. Also, I have seen his doppelganger before but I was pretty sure that he was standing next to his girlfriend Katie. When we finally arrived in our new spot we were rewarded with a clear view for the remainder of the show, and what a show it was. Neko was in fine form and really performed an outstanding set. My personal highlights were the songs, “Deep Red Bells”, “Set Out Running”, her cover of Bob Dylan’s “Bucket’s of Rain”, and her new song “John Saw That Number”. Perhaps the best moments of the show weren’t even the songs. I was endlessly amused by the on stage witty banter. It was probably some of the best between song interaction I’d witnessed at any show. The topics ranged from T.J. Hooker, Adrian Zmed, Chippendales Dancers, Eggs, Cocaine, and other far fetched topics. The banter to was enjoyable to the point where you wanted to hang out with Neko and company after the show to continue the conversations but alas the show had to end sometime and we had to be on our way. There was one more surprise in store before the show ended though. Neko and the band had jokingly launched into Grand Funk Railroad’s “We’re an American Band” despite not knowing the verse at all. After an improvised verse and chorus or two, they stopped to see if anyone in the audience knew the actual lyrics. I didn’t see any hands but apparently there was one person who raised one and he went up on stage. Halfway through the brave soul’s first verse I recognized that brave soul as Kevin or he who sold me his extra ticket. Pretty funny stuff. When the show ended Katie and Stephen came over and said hello and after a brief conversation went our separate ways. I wanted to talk longer but I had to go to the bathroom.

When I left the venue I saw Janet and Friends across the street as well as Marie and Zak nearby. I wanted everyone to get drinks together but Marie and Zak split off to get a drink together and I joined Janet so that I could celebrate her official birthday. First we tried to go to Black and White Bar but her friend Marta didn’t have her driver’s license or passport with her so we ended up making our way to Holiday Cocktail Lounge for cheap beers and pleasant conversation. At Holiday, I ran into Lucy Lesser a former VH1 colleague, who was hanging out with her friend Missy who just happens to be a bartender at my favorite karaoke establishment Planet Rose. I temporarily tried to rescue them from a conversation they were not enjoying with 2 strange bar patrons but to no avail so I rejoined Janet and friends. When Holiday close at around 12:20am we walked down to Local 138 for one more beer. It was kind of a long way to walk for just one beer but I suppose walking is good for you and beer is bad for you so they just cancel each other out. I’m not sure what time we left the bar but I said goodbye and happy birthday to Janet and her friends. I was sure I would see them Saturday but I suppose the first part this sentence served to foreshadow that I would not.

Saturday morning the rains came. There was not really any reason to go outside unless you felt like getting wet. I only went outside to get some food. Unfortunately for me the Met game was rained out so my baseball watching plans were spoiled. I ended up watching Soapdish, which I find to be a wholly enjoyable movie, on HB019. The rest of the afternoon was spent tracking my fantasy baseball team stats using the Yahoo Statracker ™ that I think is only available for free for the first week or two of the season. The Stattracker ™ basically tells you who is at bat and updates your fantasy stats live as the games happen. I’m thankful that the Stattracker ™ is not available year round because I would never leave my house. The MLB extra innings package was also running a free preview over the weekend so I could see all of the games for free but for some reason I was more hypnotized by the little box in the corner of my computer. Ah technology.

When the evening came I had a choice of three separate events (I’m so popular). Event one was Janet’s birthday celebration out in Williamsburg,, event two was Betsy’s friend Megan’s birthday at Bar on A, and event three was Suli’s friend Catherine’s Birthday at an apartment on E. 11th street. I chose event three. Or, to be more accurate I chose event three with the intention of making it to events one and two at some point in the evening. It didn’t work that way. I arrived at Catherine’s birthday party on E.11th at 9pm and didn’t leave until 3 something I think. I was honestly expecting some big crazy party but it was actually pretty small and I was a little apprehensive at first since I’ve only met Catherine once before at a Cold Hands Collective show and it was a brief meeting at that but I think it’s safe to say we both made a positive impression at each other, or at least positive enough to become myspacesters. Also at the party were my good friends Joe and Suli, as well as Catherine’s friend Jody who was hosting the shindig and who I’d met on the same night I met Catherine. I met many other folks as well throughout the course of the night though my mind is a little foggy. There was a Rebecca who I spoke with at length as well as two Swedish girls, two other Rockland guys and a couple of punk looking people who were cool. There were more people I spoke with but I don’t really feel like listing any more names or putting people into groups even though I tend to do that frequently. It seemed like a small but diverse gathering of cool people, so it gets thumbs up from me.

When I awoke this morning at 10:30am I was fully clothed on my couch and there was an empty little plastic container of Swedish fish from the bodega down the street. The rest of the day was uneventful. I watched the Mets win and followed the Yahoo StatTracker ™ some more. I can’t wait til that thing stops working. I also went on a bit of a walk to K-Mart to buy underwear just like Raymond Babbitt only I don’t go to the K-Mart in Cincinnati. I also won’t let crazy Tom Cruise tell me that K-Mart sucks. It is all part of a retroactive Scientology plot to destroy K-Mart. You’ll see. I also got a Frosty ™ from Wendy’s ™ so I could enjoy a cold Ice Cream-like beverage or non-beverage on my walk. Tonight was all about Sopranos and Big Love, though I’m not sure why I’m still watching the latter. It ‘s probably because I’m too lazy to change the channel because I definitely do not care about what’s going on in the show. Alright, I suppose this post has gone on long enough. Tomorrow is another day and 24 is on. That’s all I need.

Big Night

Why is this Monday different from all other Monday nights? Well, for one the Mets won their season opener so it’s a celebratory Monday night. Secondly, it is the return of the live 24 running diary. It’s been about 3 weeks since I’ve caught the exploits of The Bauer at its actual airtime and I couldn’t be more excited. Sure, I’m completely up to speed on the happenings but it’s not the same watching it after the fact.

Well there’s still a few minutes remaining until 24, so what better way to occupy time than recap the day that was. If there’s one thing this website has, it’s plenty of recaps. Actually it’s not so much a recap as it is a lesson on how to act when meeting new people. It’s not really a lesson for me or for you, but rather for the guy who was working the mailroom with me today at my temp job. It’s also not so much a lesson as it is a list of things not to tell someone you’ve only known eight hours. So without further ado a short list of things not to tell people that you’ve known for less than 8 hours.

1) You like Christina Ricci and have masturbated to her while watching the movie Casper The Friendly Ghost.

2) You enjoy movies with Fascist and Nazi characters and settings

3) You collect photos of crime scenes dealing with murder, mutilation and rape.

4) You prefer murder by strangulation and then rape rather than mutilation then rape.

5) You have a favorite serial killer. His name is Edmund Kemper.

See, it was just a short list but if you avoid that entire list as conversation fodder when first meeting someone, it is a safe bet you will not immediately come off as a psychopath like the guy I worked with in the mailroom today. It’s 8:42, only 18 minutes to 24!

9pm Let’s do this Bauer!!! Bring on the Parental Discretion!

9:03 10pm 24 time. Jack emerges improbably from the Natual Gas plant explosion with the third tier Jeremy Irons in a romantic fireman’s carry. He wants him conscious though for when he carries him over the threshold.

9:07 Super Secret Service Agent (and former New York Giants Tight End #84)Aaron Pierce managed to smuggle Wayne Brady Palmer Cheadle to safety and now he revealed that the chick secret service agent knows things. I hope Jack Bauer gets to torture her.

9:10 Wayne Brady Palmer Cheadle is trying to give Ms. Secret Service the Bauer treatment but only Jack Bauer can give the Bauer treatment. Oh wait, it worked. She cracked pretty easily. The bad guys have her daughter. Wayne and Aaron are on the case. Do you think two people named Wayne and Aaron have ever hung out before? It just seems like it wouldn’t happen.

9:14 I miss Sean Astin. I can’t make any more Goonie/Rudy jokes. This show is in desperate need of 80’s character actor injection.

9:16 Uh oh. Homeland security is starting the hostile takeover of CTU. The bastards. Maybe Edgar’s psycho sexual harassment sensitive replacement will threaten all of homeland security with lawsuits and they’ll back off.

9:20 Creepy homeland security guy is trying to blackmail Audrey and she told him to take this envelope and shove it.

9:22 Jack thinks Vice President Twin Peaks has something to do with this whole terrorist plot and Audrey had to pull the envelope out of evil homeland security’s ass and sign it so Jack could kill more terrorists. Too bad she had to sell out Buchanan.

9:25 Wow, I am rusty on this running diary thing.

9:28 Busted. Palmer and Pierce bumped into Twin Peaks. I think the VP was more surprised than anything since he probably ordered those guys to kill him.

9:37 Not a lot of action so far just a whole lotta talk in this episode. Do you think Jack Bauer gets bored when he has do things other than kick ass for an entire hour?

9:40 Chloe just shouted out Jack’s supposed plot points so everyone at CTU could hear. Good job Nerd. Jack just gave Wayne Brady Palmer the “you’re a lover not a fighter and frankly kind of a pussy speech”. Wayne said, “no you didn’t they killed my brother I want in on this. Always bet on black.” He’ll play the role of Curtis on this recovery mission.

9:45 Operation recover the girl but probably get Wayne Palmer injured or killed is underway…More on this after the break.

9:49 On the next house, someone gets sick with a weird disease and House cures it by unorthodox means.

9:50 Jack was tired of not shooting people this episode so he just shot some guy right through the chest. Wayne’s excited to see some real action since he never got to fight in the Marines.

9:51 It’s always tough to kill your first but it gets easier Wayne, believe me. Or just ask Jack. You can also ask Jack how to pull some Macgyver crap so you can scramble the voice of your walkie talkie.

9:55 Secret service chick got her daughter but she got hit. You knew someone was gonna eat it.

9:56 Shocking report! Vice President Twin Peaks is not the bad guy. President Prissypants is now President Crafty Prick. He’s been evil all along.

9:59 Apparently the entire US government is against Jack Bauer next week. Well that’s nothing new for the Bauer. Stay tuned.