Evan Kessler Dot Com

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An EK Original

Posted by evankessler on April 12, 2011

I just painted this. Thinking about putting it up on ebay. How much do you think it can fetch at auction? I’m pretty sure it’s going to be worth a lot of money someday.

Title: Alternate Dimension (watercolor on paper) EK 2011

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The Evan Kessler None-On-One Interview: Part Deux

Posted by evankessler on February 2, 2011

Two and a half years ago I stumbled upon a most interesting interview with the American blogger and humorist Evan J. Kessler. The subject managed to be charming and caustic all at once, whilst maintaining an air of sophistication and good humor throughout our time together. It was one of the best, if not the best interview I’ve ever had the pleasure of conducting. Not only did it teach me to be on my toes in terms of unexpected aggression, but it also showed me that the span of one conversation could be so wrought with peaks and valleys that it enlightened my own study of the human character– proving that it is indeed possible to display delightful rapier wit and be a conceited, insufferable bore in simultaneous fashion. Having suffered the slings and arrows of less bipolar interviews as of late, I felt as though my interviewing talents had slipped. I decided to return to the scene of the crime, so to speak, to hone my craft as the world’s master inquisitor.

Evan Kessler was not an easy man to find this time around. He had forsaken the comfort of a cozy Brooklyn coffee shop for the distant shores of the Island of Cuervo Nation, a brutal dictatorship ruled with an iron fist by the promise of endless amounts of tequila and the mantra “what happens on the Island of Cuervo Nation…”

I had to grease the gears with that nation’s ambassador with the promise of body shots and a bag of limes just to locate Mr. Kessler; Nevermind what I had to do to get a visa.Finally, after a convoluted customs process where an official’s plant of a bottle of Patrón nearly got me deported, I was able to step foot on the white, sandy beaches and approach the front of the villa where I spied my interview subject.  The fond memories of our previous exchange came flooding back to me like the kick from an irate mule. While his bulging manliness and virility were not as apparent throughout the course of this interview, the subject did manage to make frequent references to his impressive sportscar collection.

EVANKESSLER.COM: You’d never believe what I had to go through to find where you were.

Evan Kessler: I’m sure it was well worth it. I have a Porsche.

EK.com: I can’t imagine it comes in handy all that often. This entire island is lacking in basic infrastructure. I don’t see any roads.

EK: Well, where we’re going we don’t need roads.

EK.com: Where are we going?

EK: If I had my druthers we wouldn’t be going anywhere and you’d be drowning in the ocean.

EK.com: I’m actually a very good swimmer.

EK: So are sharks.

I just don’t think we should rule out wolf semen as a viable option for the next biofuel frontier…”

EK.com: So what has Evan Kessler been up to for the past two and a half years?

EK: Well, Evan Kessler has been doing his part to make the world a better place, mostly with his global campaign to stop unnecessary ceiling fan mutilations. Far too often a tall person will be carrying someone on their shoulders and enter a room with a ceiling fan, resulting in severe lacerations and sometimes decapitation. We need to do our part to ensure that central air conditioning is present in every home throughout the world, or at least everyone has access to one of those plastic hand-held, battery-powered fans.

EK.com: But don’t children often cut up their tongues on those as well?

EK: We can’t afford to nitpick here. There’s a huge difference between children with cut up tongues and children and adults without heads. I’d like to think the importance of this issue is on par with the removal of landmines in Southeast Asia, but all of my attempted correspondence with Angelina Jolie seems to suggest otherwise. The  People Against Continued Fan In Ceiling Mutilations or PACFICM (pronounced Pacifism) will press on in our attempts to make this an issue at the next U.N. Security Council Meeting.

Ultimately, it was a question of face tattoo or no face tattoo?

EK.com: Moving on…

EK: I’ll move on when you find something more important than ceiling fan mutilations, which will most certainly be never.

EK.com: Your hair has been described by some as splendorous jewfro, curl heaven, and a stylist’s wet dream.

EK: First off, I implore you to keep your genitalia as far away as possible from my hair. I’m assuming that last “stylist’s wet dream” bit came from you; you can always tell where the perversion is coming from.  But I also gladly accept your praise upon my locks, couple all of those hair compliments with the fact that I own a Ferrari Testarossa and I become downright irresistible. I’ve been blessed by the hair god Peleos with the appropriate amount of curvature on each individual protein-laden strand and I couldn’t be more pleased. Still while the compliments you listed are wonderful in their own right they fail to encompass the greatness of that which rests atop my head and peaks out from under my skin in its attempt to take over other body parts.

“She was the most beautiful girl in the world. The fact that she was also a three-time National Laser Tag Champion was just gravy…

EK.com: Have you ever been in love?

EK: I’m not wearing any underwear right now, if that’s what you mean. Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable, the pool sound alright?

At this point we took a brief stroll through the sand dunes into a lightly wooded area where a house with a pool appeared seemingly out of nowhere. We were seated and reassumed our interview position shortly thereafter.

EK.com: So have you ever been in love?

EK: Love is a four-letter word.

EK.com: Are you implying that the suggestion of finding love at this point in your life is a profane one?

EK: No, I’m merely pointing out that I have basic skills in both reading an mathematics that I sometimes use in concert to state the obvious. You have two legs, and most likely an asshole, but the two legs don’t characterize you as well as the asshole does. See, I’m doing it again.

 

I keep watching the trailer and for the life of me I still can’t figure out why or how the Smurfs would end up in New York City.

EK.com: Were you hugged enough as a child?

EK: Hugged, no. Lovingly caressed, most definitely.

EK.com: When you die, how would you like to be remembered?

EK: When I die in 2031 from a fatal re-entry into the planet Earth, the result of shuttle sabotage carried out by a rogue confederate space agent, I will most definitely be remembered by the vast library of priceless reality show moments from my hit QVC dating series “7 Minutes with Evan.” However, I’d like to be remembered as the inspiration for the aptly-named town King of Prussia, Pennsylvania.

“…I believe in evolution, but I also believe that God created sheep to distract farmers...

EK.com: Do you have royal lineage that you’ve yet to make us aware of?

EK: Well, I’m pretty sure I’m a few days away from being crowned the King of the Island of Cuervo Nation which I will then rename Prussia. So, I just want to let the kids out there know, there’s always a roundabout way to achieve your goals.

EK.com: That’s not exactly an inspiring thought.

EK: Fine, you want an inspirational soundbite. How’s this: “If at first you don’t achieve, make up your own rules and tell everyone you planned it that way all along.”

EK.com: I suppose that will convince someone to stay off drugs and succeed.

EK: Look, you want a role model go talk to one of the QBs in the Super Bowl. Me, I’m just a guy who watches the Super Bowl and roots for the team with the least amount of rapists.

EK.com: Well at least we know you’re on the right side of the law.

EK: Well, I wouldn’t say that. If you take a look at the mattresses in my house you’ll notice more than a few tags missing. That’s why I found my way to the Island of Cuervo Nation– always on the lam.  But life is good here, there’s free health care.

EK.com: Really, the Island of Cuervo Nation engages in socialized medicine.

EK: Well, there’s a first-aid kit behind every bar and plenty of tequila to sterilize wounds.

“You may say ‘liverwurst’, but I say ‘liverbest’...

 

EK.com: So do you see yourself going back to the United States anytime soon?

EK: Well that all depends on how things shake out. Me, I’m hoping to stay here for a while, meet a nice Cuervonese girl, get hitched during a traditional Island ceremony involving body shots and vomiting into the Caribbean (or whatever damned body of water this is) and have a few kick ass hot tub parties before moving back to the land of repression and honey.

EK.com: Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.

EK:  I’ve got it figured out like a fat kid who loves cake hasn’t figured out he/she’s going to die of a coronary at a fairly young age. So, I guess I’ve got it figured out to a fairly high degree unless that kid’s parents are nutritionists and the he/she is just gorging on desserts to get back at them for some other form of mistreatment. In that case, I haven’t got a fucking clue.

EK.com: Right, well it’s been wonderful. I have to say it was fully worth tracking you down.

EK: I know.

EK.com: So, that’s it then?

EK: You’re the interviewer, it’s over when you’re out of questions.

EK.com: What do you think about Sa…

EK: No. I changed my mind. This interview’s over. I’m going to spend the rest of my day listening to satellite radio in my Lamborghini. I hope you find your way home either by plane or pine box, I’m outta here.

THE END

Posted in blogging, Celebrity, guerrilla interview, humor | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

The Gifts That Keep On Giving

Posted by evankessler on December 15, 2010

Christmas gifts.

Image via Wikipedia

The holiday season is well upon us, and with it the practice of giving and receiving is in full swing. It’s not all Jane Seymour Open Hearts collection pendants, engagement rings from Jared, and big Mercedes-Benzes wrapped in bows; Lord knows in this time of recession it’s the little gifts that bring the biggest grins and –in some cases– the most pronounced, poorly-hidden frowns. Nowhere is this more apparent than the time-honored holiday party tradition of the Yankee/White Elephant gift swap. This convivial contemporary custom mixes the magic of the Secret Santa with the scarring occurrence of being present for a home burglary.

For those not familiar with the White Elephant gift exchange tradition, it entails that  guests of a holiday party all bring a gift within a specified price range, placing it upon arrival within the previously designated area– usually by a Christmas tree or Hannukah bush.The participating guests are then asked to pick numbers out of a hat (or similar receptacle) to determine the order in which they claim their gift. While it may seem those with the earliest numbers get the advantage this is not so. Though they may have the most gifts to choose from initially, they also have the better chance of having their gift stolen, for each subsequent gift getter has the option to steal a previous gift or open something new for their very own– that may eventually get ripped from their admiring grasp before all of the gifts are exchanged.

The most exciting aspect of this event is the potential for a rather rigorous volley of exchanges. Though some such gatherings are marred by less risky participants, the fun is amped up by those with a penchant for brazenly coveting the unwrapped prizes of others, who don’t mind crushing newfound materialistic attachments for their own selfish gain. These are the people that turn an exchange of both the crappy and cherished into a soul-crushing, rip-roaring good time.

Having been to two of these events in the past two weeks, I’ve mostly won out in my dealings, both times being bestowed with the number 5 pick. As you could well surmise, getting a good item at such a juncture would ultimately prove unfruitful, because whatever you would pick would subsequently be stolen. But even with the #5 pick, I generally managed to skirt the heartbreak of having precious items robbed from my person, mostly because I’ve not managed to secure any precious cargo despite having a vast array of shiny packaging to pick from on each occasion.

The first gift swap, which had a price limit of $5, saw me unwrap the gift of delicious foreign candy bars. While I find candy to be utterly delicious, it is entirely untrade-able as an entity of holiday cheer. With each successive pick, I attempted to entice the contestant with deliciously sweet treats to no avail. I can’t complain, I don’t think my own gift, a DVD of Roadhouse 2 starring not Patrick Swayze, was not being clamored for either.

Candy, Candy, Candy I Can't Let You Go–Because No One Else Wants You

Frankly, for such a cheap price point, the gift I picked may end up providing maximum utility, as it’s not more junk to keep around in my room that I forget I have for a year before I decide to throw it out. Rather, it gets eaten, and then it’s gone. That being said, I would’ve liked to have been involved in the trading fun.

My 2nd gift swap, which occurred this past weekend, had a slightly more substantial price point, boasting a limit of $20. I was almost assured a somewhat enjoyable gift, as the accent was placed on a “sillier the better” theme. I think my gift of a DVD boasting Police Academy movies 1-4 fit the bill rather well and would be enjoyed for the silliness by whoever wound up with it. When pick #5 came up this time around, I was fairly confident I’d wind up with the best gift that everyone would immediately be clamoring for. Despite going one pick after a well-thought out zombie survival kit, some of the contents which were not suitable for the one child in the room who eventually traded for it, I decided to roll the dice that my unwrapping skills would reveal something highly-coveted.

While my gift was a good one, it was severely lacking in humor. I enjoyed the film The Dark Knight, but was pretty sure I’d never watch it on DVD. The Batman figure that accompanied it, complete with masturbation hand movement, would just be another thing sitting in my room.

Again I desperately lobbied for a gift exchange, though I figured most of my friends already owned this movie or were in the market for something better. There was a skull and crossbones snuggie, a color-changing umbrella, and a children’s racecar driving game that all freely exchanged hands while I sadly displayed my more practical gift.

Then it happened. With one more pick left to made there was an endless gift exchange flurry. Save for all of the presents that had reached their exchange limit, it was a free for all as contestant after contestant decided to swap for already existing gifts rather than open that last wrapped enigma. The turn was in the hands of a ten-year-old and the crowd eager for the game to go on urged him to swap for something. I held out my Superhero-themed present, but made sure not to be naggy about it. Just like that, The Dark Knight disappeared from my grasp and I had a somewhat limited choice of things that had exchanged hands less than three times. That being said, I knew what I wanted.

Our host had been sadly trying to pass off what I thought were the best gifts of the evening. He sat there throughout the proceedings trying to coax each person to snag his newly acquired reading materials and in one fell swoop from my hands, that was achieved. I was now the proud owner of George W. Bush’s Decision Points and Sarah Palin‘s America By Heart, both “signed” by the “author.”

 

Consequently, My Least Favorite Photo I've Ever Been In

 

The final gift was gone a few minutes later and while mostly everyone was pleased with their takeaway, my bounty was quite the unexpected treat. Now, I’m not sure if or when I’ll get around to reading these shining beacons of American literature, but I suspect a conservative book club night at a local bar is in order.  Chapter 1: Quitting.

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I Held A Baby

Posted by evankessler on December 8, 2010

There's a First Time for Everything

A particularly wondrous thing about life is that no matter how old you are, you’re provided with an infinite amount of opportunities to contribute to the vast catalogue of first-time experiences. First kiss, first through-the-legs windmill jam, first trip to solitary confinement–these are all things in the canon of possible never-been-done-befores that people may happen upon during their time on this Earth.

Some things are more likely to occur than others, and even some of those more-likely-to-occur things manage to elude  those who are not immune to adventure.

Take me for instance, I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve been to Bangkok, Thailand and Paris, France (amongst other places); I’ve been to summer camp and driven a Smart Car– but up until today I’d never held a baby.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, how does someone who has graced the planet for more than three decades get off scot-free in the holding infants department?

Simple. I made a conscious decision to not hold any children no matter how related-to-me they might be or how adorable they are.

You see, I’m absolutely petrified of both old people and small children. I have  a fear that my proximity to either one of them will ultimately lead to their demise. Not that I harbor some sort of homicidal thirst, rather that my lack of reactive reflexes will prove a detriment for a reasonably helpless being should an emergency situation arise. I generally avoid taking other people’s pets out of doors for the same reason.

So how did this reversal of baby-holding fortune come about, when my stance on such matters up until now had been so strict? Well, I guess you could say I was taken by surprise and had absolutely no choice in the matter.  You see, my old roommate Sean recently had a son with his wonderful wife, and the two of them had come to town on business with baby in tow. Sean and I decided to meet up for a bite to eat and some conversation this afternoon. Upon his arrival on the Lower East Side with newborn son Sims hanging from a pouch around his neck, the three of us traversed the frigid city streets until happening upon a suitable cafe for our outing.

We sat down and ordered a warm alcoholic beverage to soothe our icy insides and a snack or two and got to talking about the state of things, but as our time dwindled down, my former roommate uttered something along the lines of “I gotta get a picture of you with Sims.” Only, the words I heard were, “you gotta take a picture of me with Sims,” meaning I was on camera duty.

Before I knew it, a not-yet three-month-old was being thrust toward me by Sean’s proud parental hands for me to take on the temporary role of “Uncle Evan.” Panic filled me for an instant before calm won out. I gingerly wrapped my hands to encompass the near entirety of the tot’s torso. This was an honor, but still three distinct fears bounced around my brain in the brief minute I held my friend’s son. First, I worried about the implications should I drop him; second, I thought my tight grip specifically designed to prevent me from dropping him could end up crushing his fragile ribs; and third, I was worried that the contents of the diaper soiled early in our first meeting might drip onto my person in a messy heap. Luckily, none of those fears came to pass. Actually, I was surprised how sturdy this two-month old body was despite its diminutive size. There’s something to be said for the intricate architecture of the human body. My momentary marvel over the makeup of this miniature morsel of being aside, there was great feeling of relief when he was received from my  non-child rearing iron grasp.

Even with all of the mental drama, I’m proud to say that I spat in the face of one of my long-abided restrictions. I posed for a photo with an adorable and remarkable piece of life breathing in between my hands, embracing  a new experience. One more down, plenty to go.

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Make the Weather Less Frightful

Posted by evankessler on December 8, 2009

Americans have spent the first week of December soaking up the effects of global warming by showing that 52 degrees and sunny are perfect conditions for tanning in the backyard or attending an outdoor sporting event shirtless. They’re about to be given a rude awakening though, as a cold front has descended upon the continental US faster than you can say “The Day After Tomorrow” for the 800th consecutive time.

The swath of wintry conditions has caused three deaths from California to Indiana since it engulfed the nation on Monday. The iciest air of the season is expected to smother land east of the Mississippi and Southern Canada through at least Thursday with winter storm watches in effect over places like Northern Iowa, Southern Minnesota and possibly somewhere Canadian– like Thunder Bay, Ontario.

While you’ve been hesitant to break out those snow boots and gloves just yet, we think now might be a good time take those long johns out of storage and make sure the heating bill has been paid. In addition to those obvious preparations for the arrival of Jack Frost, we here at OneRiot have come up with some less apparent essentials to get yourself prepared for when the weather outside is frightful.

Matches- Fire is so delightful.  If your heat isn’t working for some reason or you find yourself stranded out in the cold, matches will come in handy for setting something on fire, whether it be a coat sleeve or your couch.

Hot Buttered Soul by Isaac HayesWhether you’re home alone or with that special someone, having the smooth sounds of Isaac Hayes 1969 album playing in the background will keep you warm all winter long, like a soothing mug of hot buttered rum.

Hot Buttered Rum- In case your music player gets frozen and doesn’t work any longer, you should always have a soothing mug of hot buttered rum on hand to stay cozy.

A Snuggie You don’t want to have move your blanket in order reach your soothing mug of hot buttered rum or your significant other, do you?

Hot Sauce-
Sure you can buy those hand warmer crystal things to put inside your gloves, but having hot sauce seeping into your pores will give you that same skin warming/burning sensation at a lower price.  Just try not to get it in your eyes.

Fatty Foods-
Gorging yourself on fatty foods all winter will give your body that extra layer of lard it needs to survive should you at some point get stranded in an avalanche and you’re stuck at home or in a cave for days without hope of rescue.

Failing to invest in any of these essentials might not make a difference in making sure you stay warm this winter, but can you afford to risk that?  Probably…you probably could.

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A Positive Pole Model

Posted by evankessler on September 2, 2009

Good ol’ Barbie, she loved to talk on the phone, cheer, and fancy herself a princess. While she didn’t exactly shatter the glass ceiling by advancing the cause of feminism through her shallow pursuits, she didn’t aim to eliminate youthful exuberance by saddling it with the reality of adult problems either. Think about all of the Betsy Wetsies that simulate the responsibility of motherhood for children, in effect causing them to aspire to have their own young ones because they’re so good at shoving a baby bottle into a plastic mouth– all the while remaining woefully ignorant of just how difficult parenting may actually be. It seems only natural that little girls who romanticize about pregnancy at such an early age should start falling in love with the things they’re going to have to do in support of said bundle of love.
Enter the Pole Dancer Doll. That’s right, now there’s a doll for little girls who have already aspired to get knocked up by prince charming– or that guy who won’t get a DNA test live on Maury– but still need to learn about how they’re going to pay for all of the formula, diapers and doctor visits. The doll allows little girls the opportunity  to simulate their favorite Miley Cyrus Teen Choice Award moves and work out a routine for when they’re going by the name Sapphire while performing on the main stage at PT’s Playhouse in Reno.  The only downside to the doll is that toy stores require that you pay for it in crumpled up singles.

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International Left-Hander’s Day!

Posted by evankessler on August 13, 2009

Being left-handed can be both an affliction and a blessing.  While many lefties are said to be geniuses, the act of transferring the brilliance they possess from pen to paper is often met with smeared ink.  Lefties have faced much hardship in their lives, from sitting next to a righty at the dinner table to engaging in a proper handshake with someone of the opposite-handed persuasion, and lest we forget looking ever so awkward with a pair scissors.  The lefty must persevere through a childhood of bitter strife in which the other 90% of the population tells them they are doing things all wrong or that they’re not patriotic unless they put their right hand over their heart during the pledge of allegiance.

For all of the discrimination and difficulty they are forced to endure, they emerge a stronger, savvier southpaw, and for that they deserve their own day of honor.  So here’s to all of the Sandy Koufaxes, Barack Obamas, William Jefferson Clintons, Leonardo Da Vincis,(Evan Kesslers) and Paul McCartneys of the world who despite not feeling comfortable at their right-handed desk have been able to etch their names as more than just a footnote in the pages of history. Today August 13th is your day, International Left-Hander’s day. Grasp it in the hand everyone says you shouldn’t use and don’t let go.

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Evan Versus The Volcano

Posted by evankessler on March 7, 2008


Facing an impending trip to Miami on Saturday and a chance to hobnob with professionals while representing JoshSpear.com, I decided that it was time Evan Kessler got a little image upgrade. For the last year or so my brother has been harping on my appearance, insisting that I purchase at least some new sneakers and a new light jacket so that I would appear slightly less slovenly. Over the last couple of months he’s been saying that he would go with me to assure of a proper wardrobe upgrade. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, my brother has been off gallivanting in Europe for the past month for work and hasn’t had the time to help me seem up to the latest trends.

That all changed today after I met him for lunch at Bread in Little Italy. Upon finishing our meal we hit the shops like a bunch of Sex & The City crazed tourists eager to eat up all of the New York City fashion we could get our paws on. Actually, now that I think of it, it was more like that scene from Joe Versus the Volcano when after Lloyd Bridges hires Joe Banks to jump into the Volcano on Waponi Wu, Joe goes on a shopping spree where money is no object with his limo driver as his guide to the finer things. For all intents and purposes my brother played the Ossie Davis to my Tom Hanks and we managed to hit a few shops and snag some upscale clothing items.

The most important order of business and arguably the only important thing to me was new sneakers. My Saucony sneakers were bordering on beyond ratty as the tread was completely worn down, making them quite the liability in any precipitation. We stopped in a sneaker store called Clientele that seemed to have a very limited supply of sneakers despite this being their main attraction. After a swift look around nothing really struck my fancy and we moved on to a store called label that was thankfully having a half off sale as the clothes were already too expensive for my taste but not so for my brother’s.

Upon entering the store he went immediately to the clothing rack and picked out a black button down shirt and told me to try it on. My initial skepticism was washed away when I checked it out in the mirror…pretty smooth. He then found a jacket and told me to try it on. Again, not too bad. My purchases added up to a stout $180 but the cashier accidentally rung it up $100 higher and forgot to put the jacket in the bag. This problem was quickly remedied and we moved on to another store that was too rich for my blood.

Five minutes into our time at that store I was in the dressing room with a constant stream of new things to try on flowing into my half exposed dressing room. There were curtains to keep invaders, but they met in the middle and left a space open for potential voyeurs who enjoy watching people who look like me without their clothes on, change. Fortunately, I wasn’t taking off my pants or anything so that was fine. Exiting the third store I had accumulated three more shirts with a reasonably hefty price tag.

On our way to get sneakers we stopped in a pet fish store on Delancey that my brother termed “The best fish store in the City”. I don’t see why we went in since we weren’t planning on buying any fish, but whilst in the store my brother received a call from my mom. It seemed that this clothing outing had been planned all along by the two of them. It was a joint effort by my family to make me more fashionable. Sort of like something people contact Bravo about so they can get their loved ones on a TV show and get them fashion help at the same time. My mom was playing the Lloyd Bridges role all along…supporting the entire operation.

We said goodbye to the fish store soon enough and went back to the wardrobe business. We went to a store called Reed Space on Orchard and got right down to the sneaker nitty gritty. My brother basically told me to try a pair of Nikes on and I did. The next thing I knew I was buying them. Ten minutes later we were in a vintage store buying shoes on the cheap at my brother’s whim. We could’ve ran the entire pants gamut as well, but I was tired of shopping and he had work to do. Plus, I don’t think in good conscience I could’ve spent any more cash. I’m going to need some left over for a few days in Miami. Just about the only thing I didn’t come out of today owning, aside from a new pair of jeans, is a new set of travel trunks that make for excellent flotation devices at sea in case Meg Ryan and I end up there at the end of the trip.

In any case, if you see a stylish dude walking around that looks a little like Evan Kessler, It just might be. If you’re not sure…just ask for a business card. I had those made up today too.

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