Garden Apartment

Links and whatnot

2005-07-15T10:46:00.000-05:00

I meant to do a links brief yesterday but Johnny enticed me to Wrigley for a free Pirates-Cubs game.

We ended up in his CFO's alarmingly bad season seats, first row of "upper deck reserved" (a nice way of saying "nosebleed, neck-craning seats") where I sat next to and in front of two incredibly overweight women and behind a number of spider-webs, while I turned my body 30 degrees counterclockwise to get a view of the field, through said spider web, since the Wrigley architects didn't feel seats should face the field. Understandable since the park is almost 100 years old. Ah, what a place.

After watching innumerable games in the press box, I've become quite the seat snob. And after trying to navigate my way through the slow-moving crowd, not to mention my illustrious fall last season, I'm not quite the fan of the old bandbox anymore.

All in all, not a bad time, between the Pirates getting two-hit, a giggly 19-year-old yammering in our ear while Johnny surreptitiously looked up her short jean skirt. The highlight was during the girl's 15th phone call of the game, her "date" leaned over to us and whispered, "This girl's so fucking annoying. I just met her yesterday."

Second goes to the girl telling us by the time she's our age, she'll be married. As Epstein would say, "Thanks sweety."

Possibly going to Old St. Pat's this weekend, a block party Johnny refers to as a "Christian singles fest." I don't know exactly what that means - lots of Kumbayas and baloney sandwiches on white bread perhaps. Anyway should provide some good by-play at least.

Links:
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050714/ap_on_go_co/clinton_video_games_2
Yeah, violent video games are the problem. So is Marilyn Manson. You know the Slick Willies, they probably invested in this game company, and now profits should skyrocket. I mean, sex in a video game? Why leave the house?

http://www.stamfordadvocate.com/news/local/scn-sa-nor.reader2jul14,0,5780027.story?coll=stam-news-local-headlines
This is pretty fucked up and I would never make light of a potential sex crime, but the fact that the guy works for Weekly Reader isn't that surprising. I mean, who didn't know that was a gay sex rag in elementary school. The answer to the jumble was always "filching."

http://www.caazone.com/boards/viewtopic.php?p=360293#360293
If you follow college basketball, you'll appreciate this photo of Gary Williams, sweaty ref baiter, working some young trim. You have to scroll down a bit.

http://news.yahoo.com/fc/world/media_watch
And Karl Rove always seemed like such a nice, honest guy...

http://mlbplayers.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/pa/news/article.jsp?ymd=20050711&content_id=1126184&vkey=mlbpa_news&fext=.jsp
While ESPN has Peter Gammons examining the second half of the baseball season, the Trib has their experts, SI has Tom Verducci, the Player's Association has, well, me.

Reviews and such

2005-07-14T09:47:00.000-05:00

Well it's quarter to 10 and about three months behind on a usual posting schedule. So I can either get to work on the job that pays me or feed the procrastination of a few lost souls out there in the workforce. So in the spirit of Bad Idea Jeans ("I mean I know I should have worn a condom but when am I going to get back to Haiti?"), I'll go with the latter and roll the dice, as usual, on the former.

Reviews: Saw "Hustle & Flow" last week at a sneak preview mixed intermittenly with hipsters and an urban focus group, which incredibly included more than a handful of young kids who probably shouldn't be watching a movie about a pimp on the come up. Maybe, it's just me, but I thought the two tikes in the Chicago Parks District T-shirts were adorable shouting "Whomp that trick!"

All sociological scatting aside, I highly recommend this movie. Strangely enough it's an MTV-produced movie, but then again so was Napoeleon Dynamite, but it's more of a Southern "8 Mile," except this movie's slutty white girl (Taryn Manning taking "trashy hot" to new, exciting levels) is actually a prostitute - and a $20-40 one to boot!

Terrence Dashon Howard is the lead role DJay and is rigidly intense in his role as pimp (hustle) and rapper (flow).

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005024/

H&F is a little formulaic at times, but what movie isn't, really? Even "Napoleon" ends with a dance sequence and the always-unimportant high school election.

The movie's two fictional tracks will bounce around your head for a few days, not unlike "That Thing You Do" from "That Thing You Do." Except these songs are about bitches and ho's.

Also checked out "The Pain and the Itch" at Steppenwolf Theatre on Saturday, after the tapas and before the fondue, and no, I never thought I would type or say that before.

It's described as a "dark, dark comedy" which is a pretty solid description. The first half had a number of laugh-out-loud moments while the second half delved deeper into the dark problems of a dysfunctional upper-class suburban family in Chicago.

Highlights include hot Northwestern grad Kate Arrington as befuddled, racist foreigner Kalina, the comedic stylings of some old lady and my girlfriend's uncomfortable laughter as she sat next to my mom when the wife compared her husband's erstwhile beard to a vagina.

http://www.steppenwolf.org/boxoffice/productions/index.aspx?id=317

The chocolate fondue and tapas were excellent, by the way.

Return of the Blog, part like 6 or 7

2005-06-27T15:43:00.000-05:00

OK, no excuses. I'm lazy and hadn't felt like blogging much. Add to that the fact that this computer (my, um, "work" computer) can't do links and I canceled internet at my apt, well, those are all enablers for my epic laziness. (and the fact that my laptop has been in my office all weekend, where the AC mysteriously broke, well, let's just say I'm afraid to boot it up.)

After more than a month of e-mails, sarcastic blog responses and angry looting of my apartment by a Segway-wielding masked man, not to mention nagging by my girlfriend, I'm up and active again.

So, what's new?

Not much here (another reason I've been lax). The girlfriend's still awesome, as the sarcastic poster who mocked my frequent mentions of her is excited to hear, work's still work. The AC's still broken right now, so I've been sweating through 90-degree office heat since 8:30 in the morning, which is doing wonders for my productivity.

Yesterday I caught the Gay Pride Parade and then a teenage lesbian art movie (not Rochelle, Rochelle, but close). I was a little disappointed in the lack of over-the-top nudity/teenage scampering in the movie but I'd recommend it. (It's called "My Summer of Love" by the way, so don't go to Clark and Diversity asking for the "hot teenage lesbo movie." They might send you to a "Very Long Engagement" or "Sack Lunch."

I'm too hot for much coherent thought right now, so I'll end you with a brief story and two quotes.

My step-father (heretofore known as Dad) and his father, my grandpa, were quite the clotheshorses. Purple, plaid, rawhide. They'd wear it all, mostly at the same time. My grandpa, who literally would wear all-purple outfits, passed away two summers ago. My dad finally sold the house and is in the process of cleaning it out.

Last night he asked me if I wanted any of grandpa's ultra-suede sports coats. When I told him politely, absolutely not. He remarked, "Remember you'll be 60 one day."

Then my brother told him today that ultra suede is out-dated (which begs the question, when was it in style?), Dad brings out the big guns, remarking in classic fashion:

"Ultrasuede sportcoats are always elegant, for years executives have been wearing them."

Mrs. Israel crowned hottest wife in the world, without John Shear's knowledge!

2005-05-27T12:05:00.000-05:00

http://www.ujc.org/content_display.html?ArticleID=146632

Yes, John, King of All Jewish Media, missed this enormous Israel-related story, which is tough since he's constantly tapped into the third-rate entertainment news of his mother country. But luckily, fellow pervert/Israel fan Eli caught the Mrs. World pageant on PAX and called me to alert me of it and Mrs. Israel's victory (it was taped a week ago in India).

Unfortunately, I missed the proceedings as I was watching Britney/Kevin Chaotic on MTV with the little woman. While Mrs. World might have brightened my spirits, Chaotic made me question life in many ways. To call this show a train wreck would be disrespectful to Amtrak.

We sat in stunned silence before the lady checked the time of the show. "It's an hour?" she said, exasperated. Thirty minutes in, we couldn't take any more of Britney's jiggly camera work, inane questioning and constant fascination with thumbing her nose to make it look porcine. Watching her intentionally breaking up Kevin Federline's relationship and family was painful, but not as much as hearing about her 40-year-old assistant's sex life.

I don't know what depressed the woman more, this show or Sin City. But I think we both agree, Britney and Kevin deserve some of the bloodshed we saw in Sin City, and soon.

Summer at the Hamptons? I'll be there...

2005-05-26T11:12:00.000-05:00

... if by the Hamptons, you mean North Ave. beach, and if by North Ave. beach, you mean the Walgreens at North at Wells, and if by the Walgreens at North and Wells, you mean the sketchy magazine stand outside the store where I buy my "Barely Legal," then yes, I'm there all summer long baby.

But anyway, Garden Apartment fave, and still the only person I've met off Friendster (see previous post), Jasmin Rosemberg wrote a sizzling review (sizzling: a word used only by celebrity gossip writers and Ruth's Chris waiters) of the Hamptons scene for the esteemed NY Post.

http://specialsections.nypost.com/news/nypost/hamptons/20050526/p56.asp

(It's on p. 56-57 of what I'm sure is the most important NY Post insert of the season.)

This illustrates the difference between freelance writers in different fields, or at the very least between Jasmin and myself. While she's hobnobbing with the guy who's banging one of the Olsen waifs and writing a book about sexy 20-somethings in New York, I'm tracking down boys lacrosse coaches and waiting for half-naked athletes to spout cliches.

Friendster taps new CEO, old CEO goes back to waiting tables at Friday's

2005-05-26T10:02:00.000-05:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20050525/ap_on_hi_te/friendster_social_networking

Who knew Friendster had an old CEO, let alone a new one? What's he the CEO of, hobbies and interests?

As my girlfriend would say, "I don't get Friendster."

I've said it before, If I was CEO of Friendster, instead of CEO of Garden Apartment and Jon Greenberg Enterprises, I would change the social networking garbage to "Friendster: Stalk in Private." There's little use to Friendster except to look at hot girls/guys and wonder to yourself, "Could I date him/her?" Now that I have a girlfriend (who is lovely, by the way), Friendster holds little to no interest for me, except when a friend is going out with a girl and you can check up on her assets and know whether she likes to read Jemima J, Good in Bed or Bergdorf Blondes. (Because as we all know, girls can't understand any literature that doesn't involve: shopping, gossipy girls in the big city or fat girls looking for love.)

One friend, whom I'll call John Shear, once invited a girl to visit him from Friendster. Needless to say she was hideous in person with a personality to match. With a figure Jdate would describe as "nearly zaftig," she cracked, "The Midwest is full of fat people." Actually I think she said that, as she was licking the olive oil/cheese concoction off her plate at Tucci Benucch at the time, engaged in a massive eating contest with Rob Bressler.

Embarassed, and deservedly so, John refused to take her out that night with his friends, and she slept on the couch at 11 p.m.

Full disclosure: There was no point to this post, I just laughed when I saw the Friendster story on the wire.

Four years and counting...

2005-05-23T14:40:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again, graduation time. Earnest, wet-behind-the-ears, young go-getters are receiving their diplomas and going off to Europe before starting their low-level jobs in and around this grand country of ours.

Most of them will soon be making more money than me, including those whose parents are paying for them to trek around Western Europe, staying in hostels and trying to hook up without catching scabies from some infested hostel bedsheets.

It's now been four years since I've graduated from Ohio University with a B.S. in journalism. The class that came in after I left is getting ready to leave Athens to conquer the world.

Since I'm a regretful son of a bitch by nature, I've been thinking about what I've accomplished in four years, which was a lifetime when I went to college.

Professionally, I'm stagnant. Personally, I'm on the upswing, at least relationship-wise. Financially, again stagnant. Physically, still trying to work off those pounds I gained junior year of college.

As I try to (finally) decide on my next path in life, be it journalism, grad school or interpretative dance, I've been thinking about what exactly I've been doing since June 2001.

June-Aug. 2001: Nothing. Failed to plan ahead for the summer. With an internship in Israel, starting in the fall, thought it would be "fun" to stay at home for the first time in three years. Not so good of an idea. Frittered away graduation cash, worked sparingly at local rag of a newspaper and actually toiled in warehouse of local Circuit City, even serving as part-time custodian with a guy who was probably retarded. Also, got negative ass.

Sept 2001-Dec. 2001: After a brief delay, got to Israel for internship of my mother's dream for the AP. Turned out to be nothing special, did some boring stories, spent a lot of time e-mailing people. Much like now. Israel, especially Jerusalem, not so beautiful in late fall, early winter. Kind of chilly actually. Got so used to boring life, never traveled much nor did I meet any exotic women. Hooked up with three Americans of varying attractiveness: lone highlight was getting "bought" in bachelor auction for roughly $7.50 American, which preceded a pretty darn good hook up story.

Dec. 2001 -Feb 2002: Back at home. At one point, my dad chides me for not taking a part-time job at Wendy's up the street. That about sums it up. After dodging an editor's call at one point, I'm forced to take a job in Yuma, Ariz.

Feb. 2002 - April 2003: This truly begins the rough patch in my life, known as the post-college years. My first real job was with a small newspaper in a border town in Arizona. I was making roughly the same as I would've at said Wendy's without the benefits of free hamburgers.

Poverty is not best served in 115 degree heat. My roommate Ben and I had a few hijinks that made it worthwhile, including the time we (possibly illegal situation delated) and the time I (wouldn't be prudent to talk about that) and the time Ben (man, that was dumb).

Also I covered a bad minor-league baseball league and ate a lot of burritos.

April 2003: Moved to Chicago with some (possibly illegal) tax return cash and knowing, quite macabrely, that I was getting some money that summer from my Nanny's will.

I hooked up not three days into my stay here, thinking it was the harbinger of a wild, debaucherour, sex-filled journey into young adulthood.

It would be three months, and one more dead grandparent, before I hooked up again.

July 2003: Several important things happened this month. First off, my beloved grandpa (on my step-father's side) passed away. I heard the news on a ride to the suburbs to cover a baseball game ( I was way lost at the time, and late) and promptly turn around. Later I found out my mother had e-mailed me, asking me to call him because I missed him.

After I returned from the funeral, things picked a little. I hooked up again with a libidinous Catholic ex-schoolgirl, and doing so sans wingman. It lasted about six weeks and really had no bearing on much else, but it was good times.

Before that, and actually it might have been June, but for continuity's sake, we'll say it's July, I met my future girlfriend at Jewish late-night hangout Jay's (RIP). Johnny set his sights on her early and close-talked his way into a walk-home makeout session and several, uneventful dates.

She now says she really wanted me, but I was stuck dragging around my friend Lori, who was visiting the city. A year-and-a-half later, who knew I'd be the one close-talking her at a bar and getting booted out of her apartment?

Also I quit my short-lived attempt at real estate, or renting crappy apartments. I actually lost money at this job. Thankfully, I still had the Republic.

Aug. 2003: Visiting mother makes all-time funny comment. Over dinner, Johnny asks her about said Catholic girl, "What do you think about Mary Beth?"

Mom, tipsy from her martini, replies, "You can date her and you can sleep with her, but you're not marrying her."

Somewhere in the North SIde, her parents nod their heads in agreement.

Sept. 2003: Big month. First I got re-hired at the company I interned for in 2000, thus providing me with steady but low wages to supplement my freelance work. Extra flow allows me to buy more Republic clothing and ...

...move into the Garden Apartment.

Oct. 2003: Move into the unbelievably priced Garden Apartment. Everyone declares it will be nice once you fix it up. Nineteen months later, still a piece of crap. Roommate last exactly 10 days in apartment before a weekend getaway in Steubenville. Still waiting for him to pick up some stuff.

Find new roommate, Megan, and she lasts May, when she hightails it to Wrigleyville with crazier friend.

Her tenure is mostly forgettable: kissed one friend, stared at other, hotter, sluttier friend while she sleeps on couch.

March 2004: Travel north to Milwaukee. Hook up with girl in hotel room, which annoys Johnny to no end, prompting his comment, "You could've made her give ME a hand job."

June 2004: Travel back to Israel for birthright trip. Got no ass and mostly annoyed people with comments about "when I was here..."

July 2004: Watched Epstein shock cheap hookers in Vegas hotel room with antics.

Dec. 2004: Run into now girlfriend at Matzo Ball. She declares lust for me. Single life effectively over.

Jan. 2005- present: Work and scrape by a living while trying to balance a healthy relationship. Occasionally write a blog.

And that's about it. I'm still slightly fat and still completely broke. But I guess I've filled in a decent amount in these four years. I'm not exactly where I thought I'd be, but I'm not that far off.

Now if only I didn't have these student loans...

Links and such

2005-05-22T18:23:00.000-05:00

Here's some links to start your Monday or end your Sunday, depending on when you read me, if you still read me, that is, since I have the regularity of a Ren and Stimpy season.

From the woman who brought you one of the movies about teenage girls that one of my friends jerks it to:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/23/movies/23dogt.html?hp

Artest, crazy or just cuckoo?:

http://www.detnews.com/2005/pistons/0505/22/C12-189302.htm

The story:

Weird scene

The Pistons were still shaking their heads at what happened Thursday night as they were on their bus inside the loading-dock area of Conseco Fieldhouse.

It was between 11:30 and midnight and the Pistons' bus was about to leave the arena for the airport.

Suddenly, a dark Escalade roared into the loading dock, nearly hitting several people.

Out jumped Ron Artest, the Pacers forward who got a seasonlong suspension for his part in the Nov. 19 brawl.

According to Pistons players on the bus, Artest was wearing an old (and short) pair of shorts. He had no shoes on and, upon getting out of the vehicle, he tore off his T-shirt.

Given the history between Artest and the Pistons, the team's security officials were on high alert. But Artest made no motion toward the bus. He simply walked, bare-chested and bare-footed, into the building, presumably for a midnight workout.

"There's something going on there," Ben Wallace said, not wanting to comment further.

<>Bad career choice: Hope you're not majoring in communication, buddy...http://media.ebaumsworld.com/sportsnews.wmv

Larry David, funnier than me

2005-05-10T11:58:00.000-05:00

No surprise there, but here's his entry on Arianna Huffington's celebrity blog, link and full entry:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/theblog/featuredposts.html#a000443

I know this may not sound politically correct, but as someone who has abused and tormented employees and underlings for years, I am dismayed by all of this yammering directed at John Bolton. Let's face it, the people who are screaming the loudest at Bolton have never been a boss and have no idea what it’s like to deal with nitwits as dumb as themselves all day long. Why, even this morning my moronic assistant handed me a cup of coffee with way too much milk in it. I was incensed.

"You stupid ignoramus," I screamed, doing all I could to restrain myself from tossing the luke-warm liquid in her face. “There's too much freaking (I didn’t say freaking) milk in here! What the freak is wrong with you?!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered. Like sorry’s going to fix everything. I’m not interested in sorry. Sorry doesn’t cut it with me.

“Look, you idiot,” I continued, “I wouldn’t mind so much if you gave me too little milk. Little can be fixed. We can add to little.”

“Shall I get you another cup?”

“No, I’ll suck on my thumb. Yes, get me another cup, you douche bag! And chew on this -- it’s going to cost you a dollar!”

This, of course, brought on the requisite tears. At which point I'd had enough and began chasing her down the hall where she took refuge in the bathroom. Boo-hoo. Poor thing!

Meanwhile, I’m the one who had to go into the kitchen and make my own coffee! And guess what? I missed a very important phone call from this masseuse whom I’d been trying to get an appointment with forever!!

(Sorry about all the exclamation points, but you can see how worked up I get over this Bolton business!)

There is one thing, though, I’ll guarantee: that will be the last time she puts in too much milk. So get to work, Bolton. Show these other countries who’s the boss.

More excuses on why I don't write more often, and other crap

2005-05-10T11:25:00.000-05:00

My eyes are heavy this morning. My stomach is heavy too. I’ve been on a non-stop work schedule for the past week, going from my job to my other job at a non-stop pace.

I left Wrigley at 1 in the morning today, slept a bit, and now I’m back in the office, unable to find the requisite energy to start my day. The (quite delicious) sirloin I had in the press box, combined with my lunch burrito yesterday, has probably shortened my life by a week at least.

Essentially right at this moment, I’m just fat and lazy. But when you’re sitting in cramped press boxes writing on deadline for five of the last seven days, you tend to become bleary-eyed and overstuffed on ballpark dining fare.

Then again, I can’t complain. As Tupac says, “I like paying rent when the rent is due.” (Although, that’s not actually true in my case, as rent is typically due on the first of every month, and I’ve still yet to pay for the garden apartment, but you get the picture.)

I’m racking my brain to think of funny stories to share, but since I’ve become a kept man, the truly outlandish personal ones have fallen by the wayside, making space for notes like: I went to the girlfriend’s friends’ nice townhouse to watch the Bulls game. We cooked out and ate strawberry shortcake and then went home and slept.

Last Saturday, I thought would pick up my weekend, but after a quiet dinner with the lady, we went to Johnny’s to watch basketball and headed over to a girl’s apartment for a party.

Now Johnny always looks on the bright side. He still crows about how this girl’s “boobs popped out of his shirt” at a previous party. But for the second time in a row that I’ve attended a party of hers, her parents were there, thus shelving any bosomy hopes. Also she was spotted dust-busting around the appetizers with a small dog in her other hand.

Sunday I worked and tried to play tennis afterward. It’s been three years since I swung some stick and now my left hand has gone Bob Dole on me and my ankle’s gimpy.

Now for … Hot or Not!

Hot: Seeing Will Ferrell sing the 7th inning stretch
Not: Seeing Jim Belushi sing the 7th inning stretch
Really not: Being told you look like a young, thin John Belushi (Was he ever thin? My girlfriend asked.)

Hot: Coffee
Not: Spilling coffee all over your desk, your phone, etc.

Hot: Relievers offering you box of Thin Mints
Not: Relievers who lose the game and keep you waiting at their locker after the game as they lotion up with cocoa butter

****

GRAB-ASS: A popular Chelsea gym is being sued for encouraging some homo slap and tickle in the locker room. Shocking.

The NY Post reports:

Meanwhile, a rep for Barton, responding to The Post's story on the suit, says there is less gay sex going on inside there than at other gyms around town.

Barton's publicist said yesterday that a cursory search on the popular Craigslist.com showed that Barton's gym is the last place one would frequent for gay sex.

The rep pointed out that there were 31 postings about man-on-man hook-ups at other clubs and zero for the Barton gym.

Barton himself seemed to make light of the lawsuit when the pocket Hercules e-mailed us this pun-packed statement yesterday:

"Every gym has its occasional misbehaving ding dong, and we certainly enforce a strict penal code. Seriously, though, we don't tolerate shenanigans that would impact other members' experience of our gyms, as customer service is paramount to us."

One fancy boy responds quite logically:

"Don't go to a known gay gym if you're a heterosexual homophobe!" gym member Stephen Dimmick huffed. "I know they're insanely strict on it. They've revoked people's memberships for [having sex in the gym]. I've seen people get kicked out . . . This is Chelsea. If you're not comfortable, don't come."

*****

COME BACK DAVE: As you probably know, Dave Chappelle’s Show is postponed again as he tries to live up to the hype.
Newsweek, always on the bandwagon of what’s trendy and popular (Uggs anyone?, comes out this week), visited the Chappelle’s Show set last fall and reported on the delays.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7773670/site/newsweek/

The one skit (The N----r Pixie) the writer saw sounded fucking hilarious, with Dave playing, “a cackling, devil-on-the-shoulder creation who serves as the self-hating conscience of famous black men, such as Tiger Woods and Chappelle himself.” He’s in blackface as he overlooks Wood on the course, yelling, "Show 'em how n----r you are! Stick your d--k in the hole!"

****

I don’t know if you like horse racing, I frankly could careless, but this guy gives an interesting take on the old Smarty Jones (remember him?) phenomenon.

http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/sports/11564921.htm

A quick aside

2005-05-09T20:58:00.000-05:00

So you may have noticed I added a counter to the bottom of the blog. All this does is make me feel guilty as I see the numbers climb and for what, I haven't written anything new since before Katie Holmes started worshipping at the alien-loving altar of Tom Cruise.

So, I'll say the same thing you, my readers, that I say to my girlfriend, my copy editing desks and my creditors: Sorry.

Most writers who take hiatuses do it because they're writing a book or having a kid. Me, I'm just working a lot, trying to make a few more nickels.

I'm currently sitting front-row of the press box at Wrigley (look for me during seventh-inning stretches. I was highly visible on Sportscenter's replay of Will Ferrell duet with Ditka this weekend) awaiting the end of an hour-long rain delay.

I can't write long - I bet my editors would love to hear that phrase once in a while - so I'll just throw in one link that backs up an earlier bone of contention, re: brunch.

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/08/fashion/sundaystyles/08age.html

I'll try to have more manana.

JG

Playoff banter and such...

2005-05-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

Phoenix Suns 12th man/social scientist/pseudo-cheerleader Paul Shirley brings back his blog for the playoffs.

http://www.nba.com/suns/news/shirley_playoff_blog.html

In non-blog news, I spilled coffee all over my desk today, rendering my phone useless. New phone, and possibly new number coming shortly.

In related news, Yaheli, the last person on my contacts list, if your call log said I've called you 100 times today it's not my fault. It's the phone. Please don't send your arsim boyfriend after me, all gelled up and sleeveless.

Eric Nies gets knocked out and other goofy tales from reality TV

2005-05-02T10:08:00.000-05:00

Ever wonder what happened to busty, mannish Paradise Hotel star and former Chicago bartender/workout queen Toni Ferrari? Or how do people react when they see Eric Nies in person?
Or what the hell Veronica does when she's not on the RW/RR Challenge? Read here in the NY Times! I don't think the founders of the Old Gray Lady would approve of this one...

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/01/fashion/sundaystyles/01REAL.html
(registration required, but if you haven't registered for the NY Times, what are you waiting for?)

Some graphs to nibble on:

Toni Ferrari, 30, the volatile blonde from Fox's "Paradise Hotel" and "Love Cruise," said that in her experience, "Hollywood frowns on reality because we're not looked at as real talent." She appeared in the two series, which offered six-figure prizes for competitive coupling, in hopes of furthering an acting career. But since then, she said, even after temporarily disguising herself by dyeing her hair dark brown, she has been laughed out of auditions and asked to leave several improvisational acting classes by fellow students who accused her of being a sellout. "People don't realize that I only did this because I was hoping I'd get another chance," she said.

Ms. Ferrari, who has been called in to provide commentary on Fox Reality for rebroadcasts of "Love Cruise," hopes her updated on-air persona will help rehabilitate her image. "It feels good when I'm recognized, but it's not because I did something well," said Ms. Ferrari, who is now bartending to pay the bills.

(Toni, BTW, used to work at Hogs 'n Honeys and work out at the Multiplex, throwing around big chips and generally intimidating most of the men. One of our friends once asked her drunkenly at Circus, "When you gonna give some of us white guys a chance? You're all about the brothers." Needless to say, he was thrown out rather quickly.)

From the pseudo-lesbo files of the Challenge:

Rachel Robinson, who appeared on MTV's "Road Rules" in 2002, has been doing about 10 appearances a month for the past three years, speaking mostly at colleges about sexual and ethnic diversity. She said that while the pay is good - $2,000 to $3,000 a gig - she and a "Road Rules" co-star, Veronica Portillo, have recently decided to move in another direction. About a month ago they started a T-shirt company called College Dropout.

The designs (with phrases like "switch hitters" and "coochie couture") parlay their image - as the two girls who took part in a threesome during an episode in 2002 - into what they hope will be a successful business.

"We turn down appearances because we have to work," said Ms. Robinson, 22. "To me this T-shirt business is about longevity."

Who doesn't want to punch Eric Nies? He should charge for it:

"I came outside, and the girls there were doing their thing, and some guy sneaked in a punch," Mr. Nies said of the blow he took two years ago outside a nightclub in Iowa. After appearing on "The Real World" he went on to release the "Grind Workout" videocassette series, but the assault knocked him out cold. And the $5,000 fee didn't offer much consolation. "I'll never do another club again," he said.

Actually, he relented after that statement. "No seriously, I'll work a club. You know somewhere? Seriously man, I need to eat. Do you have a Powerbar?"

*****

From the weekend files...

Hot: Limey girls who smoke pot on street corners
Not: Girls who spend too much time with their parents

Hot: Wearing grey Nike T-shirts to work out
Not: Wearing grey Nike T-shirts on dates
Normal: Doing this if you're Miller

Hot: Catching the Emily Valentine-era 90210 episodes on TV
Not: When your GF makes you watch them at 7 a.m. on a Saturday

*****
Ohio fans only (As only Ohio fans would give a fuck about this story):

I don't know about you, but I missed this in the agate
page. Larry Hunter's back to chopping wood! And his former assistant, and all around scoring maching, Geno Ford took the underwhelming task of heading up D3 Muskingum, aka Local Athlete University for those in Eastern Ohio.

http://www.collegesports.com/sports/m-baskbl/stories/042905aae.html

(A stat in the above link says 30 of the 38 players who completed their eligibility under him graduated. I find that really hard to believe. I do know one of them is in federal prison in Indiana...)

http://www.collegesports.com/sports/m-baskbl/stories/042905aaf.html

http://www.statefansnation.com/index.php/archives/2005/04/28/chalk-it-up-larry-hunter-is-gone

Dude, it's 4/21!

2005-04-21T16:57:00.000-05:00

Well, I forgot 4/20 again. I'm not sure if I ever celebrated it at OU, where pot smoking was often de rigeur. But at least I knew it was coming. I had no idea yesterday was pot smoking Christmas. I guess I'm getting old. Well, thank G-d for heroin.

Anyway, here's a hilarious article from Cannabis, USA, from our Chief Dope Correspondent Emily Peska, and her "420 buddy," aka her tube-pulling boyfriend. The Chicago girl quoted in her is awesome. I'll take a stab: She's from the North Shore. The money-hungry Republicans are another highlight in what is a comprehensive look at how CU students get down:

http://www.coloradodaily.com/articles/2005/04/21/news/news01.txt

In Athens, where the cheeba monkeys keep busy playing on the fairly new frisbee golf course, Afroman came. Yes, that's right, Afroman. You know, the guy who rapped, "Cuz I got high, cuz I got high." Yes, OU draws all the hot acts. Coming next week, G. Love and Special Sauce.

http://www.thepost.ohiou.edu/show_news.php?article=N6&date=042005

And at Northwestern, there was a multi-cultural seder and a Dance Marathon meeting! When will the Jewish Theater Ensemble come out with a play based on Black Jews who love to dance all night? When, dammit?!

http://www.dailynorthwestern.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/04/21/42676112b23e9

http://www.dailynorthwestern.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/04/21/42673b9c8ed32

And at Indiana, a school populated with well-to-do suburban Jewish girls, well, all they care about is blowjobs. After reading this column, the prevailing attitude around the SDT and AEPhi houses were, "Omigod! Crush party!"

http://www.idsnews.com/subsite/story.php?id=29040

Arrgh! Avast ye blog

2005-04-18T12:35:00.000-05:00

When I'm old and gray, and presumably fatter than I am now, * I probably won't regale my children with stories of college student senate elections.

Like the majority of us, I found mine to be, well, pretty dumb. Since I worked at the school paper, I was familiar with the candidates and voted once or twice. My senior year, my roommate ran on a ticket, and won handily, though his party lost. That wasn't surprising since they ran three white guys from the same fraternity, all business majors, as their top three. Not exactly a diverse ticket. I think one of them may have worn a J. Crew shirt instead of Polo, and another one never actually drugged a girl into submission, but my memory is fuzzy at best.

I remember visiting Johnny at Northwestern my sophomore year and reading a weird story about their elections. NU is full of eccentric goofballs who would run for student senate and make a big deal about it. One guy that year went by the name "Evil Dave," and part of his platform was to get rid of newly proposed names for the seperate colleges. Like the school of Arts and Sciences became the Weinberg school and in the paper, people were identified thusly: John Shear, a Weinberg senior.

"I don't want to be a Weinberg anything," was an Evil Dave quote that stuck in my head. The goofball won, even though he was graduating that Spring.

So this comes up, because it is Student Senate election time at schools across the country. One story I just came across, thanks to Laing Whitaker's Links on cnnsi.com, and thanks to Johnny, is from N.C. State, where a Pirate (!) became student body president.

This guy's campaign became regional, and national news because of well...check out the links:

http://technicianonline.com/story.php?id=011563
http://technicianonline.com/story.php?id=011628

Here's a couple graphs from the first story that illustrate this guy's nuttiness:

The fact was punctuated by the close to 150 students present at the announcement, several of whom where decked in anything from full pirate regalia to cardboard pirate hats obtained from the seafood chain Long John Silvers.

"I hear we got record turnout," the Captain said. "I bae nothing but impressed."

The Captain also said he was thrilled with the prospect of participating in the runoffs and inspired by the support.

"I couldn't bae happier," the Captain said. "The wind bae in our sails. It warms our souls and carries our boats."

*****
The guy who eventually lost to the Captain, captured this story perfectly:

"I wouldn't say that I over- or underestimated The Pirate Captain," Quick said. "[He] was a hard factor to predict."

*****
This story, this inane story, made me miss college almost as much as all of the mainstream media stories on rampant sex on college campuses. Those actually kind of embarass me, as I had very little sex ** to speak of. So in short, I never ran for student senate and I had little sex. But I did write a few kickass stories. Which I guess, is how I got here.

* (which seems to impossible since a bartender this weekend told me, I look like an "younger, skinnier John Belushi." This wouldn't be a problem if a bum didn't call me Belushi five years ago in Evanston, and gf's friend also told her I look like the late, heavyset comedian.)
** Still more than most of my current friends.

Addendum to below...Please read that post first

2005-04-15T15:54:00.000-05:00

Also, the Pope died.

Surprisingly my password works

2005-04-15T15:11:00.000-05:00

Y'know nothing's worse when your friends get on you for procrastinating in doing something that aids their procrastination, i.e., writing this blog. Do you think Tom Friedman's friends dog him when he goes on vacation?

OK, sure, I wasn't on vacation. But maybe I took a "vacation from myself."

If you don't know what that means, read below:
http://www.seinology.com/scripts/script-157.shtml

OK, that's not true either. Really I'm just lazy/busy. Mostly I'm busy being lazy while thinking about being busy. Also I tire quickly, but probably not enough to have chronic fatigue syndrome. I'm somewhere between lackluster and slackass, with moments of extreme hard work-itude.

Basically, I waste enough time so that when I do have work to do, either in my 9:30 to 4:45 or freelance gigs, I have to haul ass and get shit done, thus cramping on my blog time.

Also, I've created a blog for work, which takes up precious blogger.com brainpower.

If you're interested, it's:

http://www.teammarketingreport.blogspot.com/

Here's a recap of the time we've missed together, or the time you missed while I was living life baby!:

Work: We've been busy in the office doing work, obviously. Besides that, we're adjusting to life in Old Town.

Office baseball is becoming the rage as we whack wiffleballs to and fro. Also we rented A Mighty Wind, but only watch the scenes with Fred Willard. I've asked to watch some of the songs, but every time I'm hit with the refrain, "I don't think so!"

As for freelancing, I got to listen to Bo Jackson's lawyer ramble about G-d know's what in relation to a lawsuit they filed against some idiot reporter in Cali, and write this stirring tale:

http://www.sportsline.com/nfl/story/8363133

I kind of watched the Bulls clinch their first playoff berth since Jordan's days, but instead I was scrambling around the United Center with computer problems. They were solved in time to write this:
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2005/basketball/nba/04/09/bc.bkn.raptors.bulls.ap/

(Aside: After that was over, I visited with my friend Luci, who was in town for a wedding. Unfortunately for her, this is what she returned to in Charlotte, N.C., as she lost her apartment to a fire:

http://www.wsoctv.com/news/4369786/detail.html)

Now, here's two vastly different stories I wrote in a day's span:

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/wire?section=mlb&id=2036677

http://www.dailyherald.com/prepsports/prepstory.asp?id=35120

Social: Like every other good hipster, I went to the Shins concert last night at the Congress Theatre. While the rest of you rubes were watching the O.C. live (I think my gf Tivo'd it), like the rubes you are, I was jamming/slightly moving/OK, nodding to the melodic stylings of the Shins, aka Zach Braff's favorite band.

My friends Martha and John purchased the tickets the day they went on sale, even though they had never actually heard the band's music. Small details.

So they asked me and gf to go. Of course, John, being himself, had to go out of town, and my friend Eli tagged along.

$70 (all told with dinner and cabs) later, I'm not sure it was worth it. The sound was sub-par and I was too full from the all of the pizza I ate pre-show. But at least when people ask me what I did on Thursday, I can pop the collar of my track jacket, nod my head and say, "I saw the Shins at the Congress."

"Oh yeah? Good show?"

"Yeah, you know. No big deal."

Financial: I paid my taxes two days early. Good times. Small change back on federal, thanks to some wise deductions. Penthouse Forum, business expense, check! And I owed some $60 to the state, which will probably line some lobbyists's Dockers downstate.

Also, I have the net worth of a tsetse fly.

But at least I have you, my fans...

Finally...

2005-04-01T10:28:00.000-06:00

...someone found a use for a Segway (Sorry Phil, using it to go from the bedroom to the bathroom isn't proper usage).

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/01/travel/escapes/01segway.html

Hilarious:

Most Bay Area Segway Enthusiast Group members own only one Segway, which sell for around $5,000. Although the stated mission of the group is to promote public acceptance of the machines, many members spend more time playing polo on them than proselytizing for them. Mr. Bauer, in fact, who lives in San Francisco, where Segways are prohibited on sidewalks, said that his was used only for the Sunday matches.

"I used to ride mine more, but part of me got tired of dealing with the negativity," Mr. Bauer said. "You can't use them on the sidewalk, and if you do, people are yelling at you. Or they're thinking of you as a yuppie, which in a sense you are."

More hilarious:

This was not the dream of Dean Kamen, inventor of the Segway Human Transporter, when he rolled out the first model in 2001. Easy to ride and ecofriendly, the Segway was hailed as an innovation that would revolutionize the modern city.

Just how much has changed is perhaps evident in the transportation used by players to get to their polo matches. Most drive. Mr. Wozniak often shows up in his Hummer, hauling four Segways in the back.

Only at Arizona

2005-03-29T22:31:00.000-06:00

...would this be a way to raise money for tsunami relief. Ipods and gratuitous near-nudity

http://www.ipose.org/

And the best part about it is that the AEPi chapter (which my brother scorned during his solid year there) is in charge of it. G-d bless those idiots.

I'm torn on which girl should win, though I already cast one vote for "Maddison" the blond Pi Phi. But only because her parents felt a need to an extra 'd' to her already trendy name.

(I notice that most of these girls are freshmen and sophomores. Surprisingly, most of the coked-out seniors didn't want to participate.)

Apropos of nothing...

2005-03-29T15:09:00.000-06:00

...here's a transcript of the Saturday Night Live episode, circa 1992, where they have the Mr. Belvedere fan club. This skit came up in conversation last week and I've been obsessing over it. All hail Brocktoon!

http://snltranscripts.jt.org/91/91sbelvedere.phtml

This part is my favorite. It comes right after they vote not to kill Mr. Belvedere so Chris Farley's character can impress a girl (who's probably a lesbo anyway):

Mr. Chairman: The Nays have it. He lives. But the vote shouldn't have been that close. Which brings me to an area I think we need to discuss. Now, I got a letter from Mr. Belvedere's publicist. It seems somebody has been killing his housepets again. Now, I'm not gonna ask which one of you is doing it, but I do think we need to do our exercises.

Comic: What exercise?

Phil: The exercise that helps keep the line between reality and fantasy a little less blurry. You'll see.

Mr. Chairman: Okay, who wants to start?

Cheryl: Okay. I should want to shake hands with Mr. Belvedere, I shouldn't want to grab a lock of his hair.

Mr. Chairman: That's good, Cheryl. And, even though it would be really neat to have a lock of his hair, we know that's not right. Someone else?

Mike: Yeah. Okay. I should want to send him a fan letter telling him how good he was in the episode where he teaches everyone how to cook, but I shouldn't want to type the letter on a death certificate.

Mr. Chairman: Yes! But, then, you learned that one the hard way, huh? Okay, so let's keep going. Come on.

Adam: I should like watching "Mr. Belvedere" a lot, but I shouldn't have to masturbate at the end of every episode.

Mr. Chairman: That's right. That is right. Discipline. Next?

Melanie: Uh, yeah! I should want to cook Brocktoon a simple dinner if he truly accepts the offer, but not if I sense that he accepts it telepathically.

Mr. Chairman: Yes, okay.. but let's keep the exercise in the form of "should" and "shouldn't", okay? Next?

Phil: I should want to cook him a simple meal, but I shouldn't want to cut into him, to tear the flesh, to wear the flesh, to be born unto new worlds where his flesh becomes my key.

Mr. Chairman: [ considering ] Good.

Doug: I got one. I should want to say hi to him nicely, I shouldn't want to keep him in a big jar in my basement.

Mr. Chairman: Alright, Doug, that's great, we understand that now. Go on, though. Why shouldn't you put him in a big jar in your basement?

Doug: Because.. his breath would fog up the glass, and I wouldn't be able to see him..?
****
My girlfriend kind of feels this way about Adam Brody from the OC, but it's OK as long as she keeps doing similar exercises.

Media Criticism 101

2005-03-28T23:54:00.000-06:00

My first job in journalism came at my hometown newspaper, the Herald-Star. I was never impressed with the operation beforehand, but it wasn't a bad start.

I was 19 and I liked to see my name in print.

Now I'm 26 and I'd stab myself with a Bic if I had a byline in this paper. Here's a reason why:

This is a story about an 85-year-old woman who's worked at historic Drover's Inn restaurant since ... 1979! I mean that's 25 years at one job. And a bad job at that. She works the buffet line. And the restaurant's only been around since 1967 and it's known for its wingies. Man, that's history.

http://www.hsconnect.com/news/story/0328202005_new01news032805.asp

Here's a 48-inch (about 1,500 words) tale of a local woman who was on the Price is Right.

http://www.hsconnect.com/news/story/0328202005_new02news032805.asp

To put this in perspective, it's a little longer than this story about Sunni insurgents in Iraq from the NY Times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/03/29/international/middleeast/29sunni.html

Needless to say, it's a little too much about the Price is Right. Thankfully she wasn't on Supermarket Sweep.

Judging by this paragraph, she's more than impressed with the magic of Hollywood:

Polchinski said when she presented Barker with the T-shirt, he held it up to the camera. "Of course, Hollywood can do anything so whether or not they keep that or edit it out, we'll find out," she said.

Here's a really long way to describe a simple Price is Right game:

Polchinski's next game was guessing the price of a minivan during the Lucky 7 game, a competition where a contestant gets $7. The object of the game is to guess the price digit by digit, paying the host the difference in dollars between the actual number and number guessed. The player has to guess the price and still have $1 left at the end of the game.

Polchinski had $2 left near the end and was getting help from her group when she chose a 4 but the number was a 2 so she had to surrender her last $2.

She didn't mind not winning the vehicle, however, and figured she was done at that point. Polchinski found herself sitting next to a woman named Juanita, who was elated to even be in the audience. Polchinski said she picked up on her enthusiasm and suggested, "Imagine what heaven will be like."

And oh yeah, in case you couldn't tell, this woman's a little religious.

I don't heart brunch and other curmudgeonly, needless musings

2005-03-28T14:55:00.000-06:00

I have been told recently, but not for the first time, that I am too critical of people, places, lifestyles and such and such.

If you've ever read this site, or met me even for a few minutes, you know this to be true.

I was reminded of this in a semi-loving, semi-nagging way yesterday, Easter Sunday. The impetus for my charmingly benign negativity was a holiday visit to Bucktown.

Bucktown and adjoining Wicker Park, for my non-Chicago readers, is a fully gentrified neighborhood bordering the West Side. You may have seen it in the John Cusack vehicle "High Fidelity."

It used to be either a hellhole or affordable place to live in the city but has been revitalized (or "discovered") in the past 15 or so years and is considered a trendy, up and coming neighborhood bubbling with new, high-priced condos, fancy stores and restaurants. It is also popular for live music venues like the Double Door, divey bars and a newer collection of sceney bars. Cans and Northside Tap are popular ones.

It's also a "great place" for brunch.

Now if you know me, you know I'm not much of a brunch eater. Besides the fact I take no overt pleasure from trying out new restaurants or even eating at places without TVs if not for special occasions, especially those when I'm not paying. I'm even less of a fan of brunch. I'm not a breakfast person, or a morning person, and my ideal breakfast would be a bagel and coffee. My ideal lunch would be a slice of pizza and a coke. (I guess that would make my ideal brunch a pizza bagel, but that was only the case when the Bagel Nosh ruled Shadyside)

So brunch in Bucktown. Obviously I have a girlfriend.

So we're meeting two other couples there, and they're extremely cool people so I didn't mind meeting them. They're also late people and I'm dating Patty Punctual (not to be confused with Peppermint Patty, who is in fact gay.). So we're early and we get to Feast, the type of restaurant that makes its money off people in their late 20s-early 30s who feel the need to go out for brunch.

We check to see if anyone else had made a reservation (Apparently Easter Sunday is a busy day for Denver Omelettes and the like). They had not. We asked for a table for six, not an outlandish request by any means.

"All I have for five and up is the counter," the hostess said, pointing to the curvy counter next to us.

"Well, we kind of want to sit together," the girlfriend said. "I don't think we want the counter."

The hostess was not impressed by a seemingly reasonable request.

"The counter is just like a table," she said, seemingly unaware of our lifelong counter experience. "It's just...higher."

One word describes that answer: Sassy. (Anyone else remember that hilarious Phil Hartman sketch on SNL?)

Sullen and downcast (OK, I was laughing but she was pissed), we met two members of our party outside and discussed future plans. I suggested an Eight Ball and cheese fries but everyone else was thinking Belgian waffle and gooseberries.

Eventually we settled on the bar across the street. Unsure if they had brunch, we decided to trust the sign that said, "Brunch: Open."

Eventually most of settled on the "best croissant sandwich ever" from the worst "foreign brunch waitress with underwear sticking out of her pants ever" and some surprisingly good orange juice (without the ice that was strangely offered, and accepted by one of us).

Afterward, we headed over to one couple's apartment to meet a lovable labrad-oodle. Three drove over in a Porsche, the other three, myself included, went a pied. Strangely we got there at the same time.

After the visit, I saw a guy around my age coming back to his brand-new condo on a skateboard, while carrying a Subway bag. Why it was necessary to shred over to the Eat Fresh capital of Chicago, I have no idea.

A block later, this ridiculousness was displaced by a guy cruising down the street in a 19th century bicycle with a 6-feet high wheels.

We also stopped in a charming neighborhood grocery store with seven different kinds of kale and a section title "Soy you're looking to spend money..."

Thankfully it was Easter and I didn't have to spend time in any boutiques or high-end baby stores that have displaced the mom-and-pop abandoned drug dens and failed bodegas that populated this area 20 years ago.

Also my favorite Jewish lesbian-owned, make-your-own-T-shirt for $30 store was also closed for the holiday.

Later on, I took the girlfriend to a tour of my neighborhood, Mid-North Clark St, where we hit edgy stores like Tower Records, Urban Outfitters and Graham Cracker Comics.

And I got my slice of pizza.

Purchases on the day:

Best croissant ever (Northside Tap): B+
I didn't like the bacon on the bottom of the sandwich, but the croissant itself was excellent and the eggs were also good.

Sunday Tribune: B+
Nothing jumped out on me. Read about the Arizona-Illinois game I missed while covering the Bulls game

New "Bright Eyes" CD (Tower): B+ (consistent grade I guess)
I listened to the first few songs of Conner Oberst's new disc at Tower and liked it enough to spend $10 on it. I'd describe him as an alt-rock John Mayer/Jack Johnson. Very poetic, sometimes maudlin. Interesting sound. Only listened to it twice though.

Slice of pizza (Luigi's): A+
Never disappoints when it's piping hot. My favorite, non-deep dish pizza in the city. Bar none.

Morty Seinfield, creator of the beltless trenchcoat, dead at 82

2005-03-24T16:33:00.000-06:00

Barney Martin, the actor who played Jerry Seinfeld's dad, Morty , Thursday from cancer. Here are some of his greatest hits. Feel free to play maudlin music in the background.

JACK: No? Listen Morty you wanna settle up for last night? (Morty nods) All right. I owe you 19.45$ (he gets his checks book and a pen from his pocket).

MORTY: What did you have? You had the minute steak?

JACK: Yeah.

MORTY: Did you have a coke or what?

JACK: I did NOT have a coke.

MORTY: Somebody had a coke.

HELEN: Oh I had a coke.

DORIS: And I had the scampi.

JACK: So that's 17.10$ and the tax and the tip.

MORTY: All right. Make it 20 bucks.

JACK: It's: 19.45$, Morty. (he gives him the check)

MORTY: 19.45$ ?

.... MORTY: Jack can afford to give away a pen with all his money. Believe me. He gives me a check for 19.45. He didn't have a Coke. Ho, ho, ho!

****

MORTY: Jerry have you ever seen any of those impressionist paintings?

JERRY: Oh sure like Monet.

MORTY: Don't you think he had to be uh near sighted? I mean know body would paint like that if they could see. It's all out of focus.

JERRY: Well he's from the impressionist school, you know like Monet, Manet, Tippi Tippi Dayday.

MORTY: I say the guy was painting without his glasses.

****

HELEN: Morty, what d'you have to open this box for? (waving at another box) There's already a box of cookies open.

MORTY: I wanted a Chip Ahoy.

HELEN: I don't like all these open boxes.

(Helen puts both boxes of cookies away in a cupboard.)

MORTY: Look, I got a few good years left. If I want a Chip Ahoy, I'm having it.

****
MORTY: (Jerry comes out of his room, having just woken up) Rise and shine, sleepy head! Ha ha!

JERRY: It's 5:30 in the morning!

HELEN: We let you sleep in.

JERRY: (handing his dad a gift) Well, as long as I'm up. Dad, I got you a birthday present. Here. Happy Birthday.

MORTY: Aw, Jerry. I should be buyin' you presents.

JERRY: What does that mean?

HELEN: Leave your father alone. It's his birthday.

MORTY: Oooh! Heh heh! It's a radar detector.

JERRY: Radar detector? I've never seen you go over twenty miles an hour. You're like the Grand Marshall of the Rose Bowl Parade. It's a Wizard organizer.

MORTY: This looks like too much money.

JERRY: Nah, I got it from a guy on the street. It was, like, fifty bucks.

MORTY: You think it's hot?

JERRY: Could be.

MORTY: Attaboy! Helen, Jerry got me a hot Wizard computer!

HELEN: I'm right here.

JERRY: And you can do everything with it. You can get e-mail, fax, there's a calculator.

MORTY: So, I can use it in the restaurant to figure out the tip?

JERRY: Yeah, I guess. But the really cool thing is the daily planner.

MORTY: Helen, we got into restaurants and figure out the tips.

HELEN: Jerry, you're getting your father too excited.
...MORTY: (eating lunch with Helen and Jerry) Another fine meal, and now for my Wizard tip calculator.

JERRY: Dad, it's got lots of other functions.

MORTY: Don't worry. I'll get to the other functions. (trying to open it) I can't get it open.

(Jerry easily opens it)

HELEN: Yay! Jerry got it open.

MORTY: The service was slow. And God forbid they should refill the water. How does 12.4% sound?

JERRY: (looking at the Wizard) Well, your tip is four dollars and thirty-six point six six six six cents.

MORTY: We'll round down.

HELEN: Jerry, it was so nice of you to come down here on your father's birthday. You've helped take his mind off the condo elections.

JERRY: Oh, right. You can't run for condo president because you were impeached at the other condo.

MORTY: I was never impeached! I resigned!

HELEN: Even so, the press would bury him!

JERRY: What press?

HELEN: The condo newsletter, the Boca Breeze.

MORTY: Pinko Commie rag.

Post-script: I'll never figure out how Jerry got a Wizard that had fax and e-mail capabilities in like, 1996. That was one hell of a tip calculator.

And now a final word from the late Barney Martin:

MORTY: Hey, I agree with him. Nobody likes a kid with a pony.

I would never drive a Dodge Stratus! But I do wear a striped shirt!

2005-03-23T13:12:00.000-06:00

Hilarious blog-like parody of every guy's nocturnal wardrobe choice; the striped dress shirt! It's edited by Elaine Benes.

http://www.thephatphree.com/features.asp?SectionID=11&StoryID=239&Layou

Coming soon: I can't hear you! I'm listening to my iPod!

Have you read my blog? It's awesome!

Who'd you take in the tournament? Fuck Bucknell!

Shin Bet goes online

2005-03-22T23:02:00.000-06:00

Garden Apartment job posting section (now international!):

http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/nm/20050322/wr_nm/security_israel_dc

P.S. Sorry, Johnny, Jews in tight T-shirts not invited...inside joke. Oh wait, all my jokes are inside jokes. I need some outside jokes.

I'll be back with some outside jokes...