May 6, 2011

Two of my favorite writers are Amy and David Sedaris. Last year when Biff came into town, she brought along tickets to see David Sedaris at the legendary Apollo Theater up in Harlem. It was a great night and it’s also when we met Tim “Clacky” Clack and his girlfriend, Shannon. You can read about that night here: David Sedaris at the Apollo Theater, sponsored by Biff!

Amy Sedaris has a new book out called, Simple Times—Crafts For Poor People. I recently bought it and I thought it would be cool to stalk her go to her apartment and see if she would sign it.

“And just how do you know where she lives?” You may be wondering.

Simple. I shelled out ten bucks for the New York City Celebrity Map.

I didn’t buy it specifically to stalk try to meet Amy Sedaris, I thought I might use it for some late night MAD adventures, but as I was looking the list over, there was her name, right below Antonio Banderas. I feel a little pathetic using a service that not only alphabetizes by the first name, but also thinks that the letter “M” comes after “N” in the alphabet.

But I’m going to trust them anyway. The address they give is in the West Village, and I do know that she lives in that neighborhood. As far as the exact address, get your own New York City Celebrity Map if you want to stalk try and meet Amy Sedaris. However I will let you know that Antonio Banderas lives at 50 Central Park West. And you owe me 53 cents for that information by the way!

And we're off. I have to tell you, I'm a little nervous about this whole thing. I'm trying to figure out what to say if I actually do get to meet her.

Let's stop in here for a little liquid courage.

The old beer with a straw in it hidden in a brown bag. Yeah, like a cop will never know what it is in this disguise!

Okay, now I'm nervous walking around with this beer on top of wondering what I'll say to Amy Sedaris if I get to meet her. One rule about being around funny people is not to try to be funnier than they are, because you'll never pull it off and you'll end up looking pathetic. But I don't want to come off as a total dud either. Sheesh, I'm a total nervous wreck right now and paranoid as shit with this 16-ounce can of unlawfulness in my hand. I just thought of what to say! I'll show her the map and how her name is beneath Antonio Banderas and then I'll say, "It says you're beneath Antonio Banderas and that's a total lie! You're much funnier and you didn't have to marry Melanie Griffith to get a green card." That's pretty good, right? Fuck, I'm throwing the beer away, it's just making me too nervous. I should've just gone back to the M&M store tonight. This is a crazy-ass thing to be doing!

Fancy psychic window alert!

You've got to love it when you look in a Mexican restaurant and there's a guy that looks like he's passed out wearing a sombrero. He kind of looks like Antonio Banderas!

Shit, I still need to get my mom a present! There's just not enough time in the day to get everything done.

Aaaaahhh! Quit reminding me that I'm a bad son!

Okay, we're almost there!

Here's the building and the door is wide open! Holy shitballs, maybe I can just walk in, find her apartment number on the mailboxes and go knock on the door. I'm going to wait out here for a few minutes first and practice that Antonio Banderas joke.

Shit, I'm across the street now. I went inside the building and there was a Spanish doorman behind a desk. I was tempted to ask if he was related to Antonio Banderas, but decided not to press my luck. He asked if he could help me and I asked him if he could ring Amy Sedaris's apartment and ask her if she would sign my book. He told me he couldn't give out any information about the building. I told him I didn't need any information, I was just curious if Amy Sedaris would sign my book. I added that I was a big fan, for emphasis. He told me he couldn't give out any information about the building. We volleyed back and forth a few more times and he started looking pretty nervous, so I decided to retreat before he called the cops. Now I'm standing here like some sort of failed Margaret Ray. This wasn't a very good night. Sorry.

I wonder what Antonio Banderas is doing right now at this moment? Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.

Amy Sedaris
Simple Times—Crafts For Poor People

Further reading and watching: amysedarisrocks.com, Amy Sedaris YouTube Channel, goodreads and Late Night.

You might also like: Jimmy Olsen, The Olsen Twins and Twins.

Five More Great Writers
Henry Beard
Hunter S. Thompson
Michael O’Donoghue
Fred Exley
Donn Pearce

Well all you ladies gather 'round
That good sweet candy man's in town.

ARCHIVES

(Surprise link...click on it...I dare you!)

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Bonus Photo by ragin' rr!

MAD commenter and quote-gatherer, ragin' rr sent in this photo from the front page of the Hartford Courant newspaper.

AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

May 5, 2011

Last week while walking home from my parents hotel I was walking through Times Square and saw an abomination a store that I had no idea existed. It’s a store called M&M’s World and it’s a store that is three floors high and sells nothing but M&M candy and accessories. Yes, Virginia, M&M’s now come with accessories...at least at this store. I thought this would be a perfect Times Square place to play...Tourist Trap OR A Place That’s Actually Worth Checking Out.

And we're off. Goddamn, it's cold out for May.

Deedle dee dee...fresh air...deedle dee dee...Times Square!

Fuck, it's after 11:00 o'clock at night and it's as bright as daytime here with all the lights. I hate it here!

Did I mention I hate it here? Oh, good.

And here we are, the M&M...and M&M and M store. Mmmmm.

Three floors of shopping!

They've got t-shirts on the first floor.

And on the second floor they've got...t-shirts.

And on the third floor...more t-shirts! Where the fuck is the candy in this place?

This guy has a vested interest in the t-shirts! I'm cracking myself up over here!

M&M coke spoons! Great...but I want candy!

Ask and ye shall receive. Vats of the elusive M&M candies.

Another satisfied customer.

She stocked up. If she only knew she could get the same product at the Duane Reade a block away at half the price.

Photo Booth!

Goodnight everybody, see you tomorrow after dark.

The Verdict!

Tourist Trap OR A Place That’s Actually Worth Checking Out?

Souvenir

Shit I forgot to get a souvenir...wait, I know...

I'd rather buy my M&M's from this guy, anyway.

M&M's World
1600 Broadway (Between 48th & 49th St)
212-295-3850

Further reading and watching: New York Magazine, ToDoCandy, INCYDK and TCPBG.

You might also like: Van Halen, Van Johnson and A Van...Down By The River!

Six Other M&M’s
M&M Donuts
M&M Meat Shops
MM!
Wikipedia
M&M
Eminem

Have you seen Junior’s grades?
Ooh.

ARCHIVES

(Surprise link...click on it...I dare you!)

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Bonus Facebook Update Found By "Boris!"

"Boris" found this timely update on facebook the other day. It kind of tells it's own story, thanks Daddio!

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Bonus Jaws Art

Jaws combined the worlds of Wall Drug and the M&M World below. Thanks, Jaws!

May 4, 2011

Okay, it’s Tuesday and that means time to play, “Where’s My Swizzle Stick!” If you’re new to the blog or have serious memory problems, every Tuesday I go to a bar, order a double gin and tonic in a tall glass (which, if properly made should have a swizzle stick included) and then rate the swizzle stick. I’ll also note the price and quality of the bar and drink (thanks to Gene Rubbico for that idea!)

Tonight I’m going back to a place that holds a special place in my heart, Otto’s Shrunken Head in the East Village. It was the very first bar that I went to on my 365 Bar Crawl last year. Let’s go see if Lani’s working!

It's nice, so I thought I'd just walk there. It's a bit of a hike, but what the hell. Eastward, ho! Sorry for calling you a ho.

It looks like the Cardboard Box Man's family reunion down here.

Irony = Filene's Basement on the top floor of this building.

Fancy psychic window!

Okay, we're about a block away, almost there.

And we're here, Otto's Shrunken Head!

It's Dark Water Tuesday tonight and Father Vincent is your host. Stupidly I forgot to get a picture of him. You'll just have to go for yourself to see him.

Wow, it's crowded in here and people are sparkly. Acid flashback alert!

I found a seat in the middle of the bar. Oh, bartender!

The lovely and beautiful Nell served up the drink...but oh no, it's a plastic straw instead of a swizzle stick!

Nell quickly resolved this problem by inserting a sparkly black swizzle stick (okay, it was a straw, but what the hell, she gets points for trying) plus a little drink umbrella and an orange plastic monkey. Almost the equivalent of a Michael Nesmith swizzle stick! Very nice!

Some of the lit up bottles behind the bar and if you look closely an obligatory bar room mirror shot.

DJ Kage 23 was spinning the tunes and some of them included, Paint It Black, Rock the Casbah and Now I Wanna Be Your Dog.

Some of the beers on tap at Otto's.

A tiki woman on the wall.

Gumby!

Photo booth!

Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark!

Swizzle Stick Rating

Okay, it was really a black collapsible straw, but the fact that mini umbrellas and a plastic monkey added made this an acceptable swizzle stick night. The double gin and tonic was twelve bucks, but I got a buy back after two drinks, so this was a very good swizzle stick night on the town. To Otto's!

The collection so far.

Otto's Shrunken Head
538 E. 14th St. (Near Ave. B)
212-228-2240

Further reading: Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York, New York magazine, Village Voice and Photobooth.

You might also like: Eenie, Meanie and Moe.

Seven Shrinky Links
Shrinky Dinks
The Incredible Shrinking Man
The Incredible Shrinking Woman
Head Shrinkage
Shrinkage
Sigmund Freud
Karen Carpenter

Gotta find my kind of woman,
Oh yeah!

ARCHIVES

(Surprise link...click on it...I dare you!)

May 3, 2011

(Okay, I went here on Sunday with my parents and was going to post this yesterday, but then Osama shook ace/deuce and I wanted to document that, so I put that up yesterday. So today’s post is from Sunday night. Confused? Welcome to the club, I’m dizzier than Tommy Roe with an ear infection at this point. Anyway, enjoy!)

Okay, tonight’s my parent’s last night in town. One of our favorite places to go to is The Water Club which overlooks the East River and has a great view. The food is really good too. It’s kind of a fancy place, but you don’t have to get dressed up to dine there. You can and many do, but I’ve never gotten attitude for wearing jeans. My parents are coming over to my place before dinner for drinks and snacks.

And speaking of snacks, tonight's snack mix is going to be made up of pure Utz snacks. I love the little Utz girl snack girl. She reminds me of a punk rock version of Nancy.

As I've mentioned before, I'm a board-certified snackologist, what I'm about to show you should only be attempted by board-certified snackologists, PLEASE, don't try this at home! Here's my official board-certified snackologist mixing container.

Slowly and carefully we'll add carefully measured portions to the Utz snack casserole.

After two and a quarter hours of mixing, measuring and pruning, the snack casserole is done. Beautiful!

And here's my parents in my apartment. My Dad enjoys some of the snack mix and my mom is holding my Joan Jett book I got from Ammo books.

Here we are in a cab zooming to the Water Club.

And here we are, let's go inside and start the dinner portion of the evening.

Here's the front bar, which will be familiar if you followed my 365 Bar Crawl.

It's no surprise that this place has a nautical theme. A three hour tour.

Here we are at our table. It's bright in the background and we got blacked out. We'll try this again later when the sun goes down.

I love halter tops and looking at the back of a woman. Wow, she's sure an eyeful! Nice shoulder blades!

My Dad was saying something, but I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about...

As I was too busy elsewhere. Okay, I'll quit obsessing.

This is my third beer, so it's time to make a trip to the Men's room.

You know a place has class when they have a flower pot above the urinal. But I put the ass in class and thought they'd look better somewhere else.

Don't they look better there? A tree may grow in Brooklyn, but flowers sprout in urinals in Manhattan.

Poetry in motion!

When I got back dinner was served! My mom got a filet.

My Dad got the trout...that almost sounds like he got a disease.

I got the lobster roll, french fries and cole slaw. It was delicious!

The sun's down and we got a decent table shot. Influenced by The Rutles, I'm having tea.

Here's our dessert, my Mom got ice cream with chocolate sauce. I got...

Aaaaaaahhhhh!!!

If they do say so themselves...(taken from the “about” section of their website.)
The Water Club is one of the most celebrated restaurants in New York—featuring a wonderful classic American menu, breathtaking river views and a "Sunday brunch that defies description." (The New York Times) Open throughout the year for lunch, dinner and brunch, The Water Club also offers private party rooms, an outdoor patio "The Crow's Nest", piano music nightly and valet parking.

The Water Club
The East River, at 30th St.
212-683-3333

Further Reading: New York magazine, MenuPages, CitySearch and Open Table.

You Might Also Like: Purple Squirrels, Purple Rain and Rain.

Three Other Bodies of Water
Billy Ocean
John Waters
Bodies of Water

But there's no lack of arms around me,
But I still wonder if somewhere I went wrong.

ARCHIVES

May 2, 2011

Well, I had a totally different post ready for today. I went out to dinner with my parents last night and we had a great meal and a great time. I came home and opened a beer and then heard that our military killed that fucker Osama Bin Laden. I don’t like to get political here and I won’t. I just remember watching footage of that asshole watching the twin towers go down and he was so happy. I just hope that son of an ass-raping prick died slowly and painfully.

I don’t think this will change things a lot in the long run, but I do feel some amount of closure. People were really happy here last night. Is it wrong to celebrate someone’s death, no matter how vile they were? Ummm...nahhh. One less asshole in this world and that’s a good thing. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

I’ve decided that instead of the regular MAD post, I’d put up my memories of September, 11th, 2001. To the memories of all those that died on that day and to all of us that still get anxiety attacks thinking about it. I hope Osama was still alive when he shit his robe. I got dibs on his kidney machine!

The Weird Day When the Sky Went Brown
I’ve seen the sky in many colors, various shades of blue, gray, black, purple, but up to that day, I had never seen the sky the color of brown. It kind of made me feel sick in a weird, Twilight Zone William-Shatner-see-a-monster-on-the-airplane’s wing-kind of way. And it was a grotesque brown color; it looked like Satan had vomited a stomach full of Yoo-Hoo all over the Manhattan  skyline. After a couple of minutes of staring at this stomach-turning mess of a sky, I turned around and looked uptown and the sky was blue. Then I turned back around, looked downtown and the sky was still brown. It was really weird. Like some kind of a whacked-out nursery rhyme: Downtown brown / uptown blue /  knick knack paddywhack / give the dog some glue.

The day started weird and just got weirder and more sickening as the minutes turned into hours and the brown day careened into a purple-black night. The day had started with a strange series of clicks emanating from my phone.
    
I work nights so I have a schedule that’s opposite of most people—I keep Elvis hours, I sleep in the day and wake up in the afternoon—so I always keep the ringer on my phone off and turn the volume on my phone answering machine all the way down. So while I never hear the phone ring or the messages people leave, you can hear a click when someone calls. On this day, just as I was falling off to dreamland, I heard my first click.

“Weird,” I thought, “I wonder who’s calling me at this hour?” Then I started to drift off to slumberland once again.

Then another click.

Then another.

And another. Another one. Anotheranotheranotheranotheranotheranother. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclick. Click. Clickityclickclickclick. Clickclickclickclickclick. Clickclick. Clickclickclickityclickclickclickclick. Clickclickclick. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

This went on for a while. I’d just about be asleep and then another series of clicks would rattle off like a hyperactive machine gun spraying wake up dust all over my kingdom of sleep. Finally, even though I was dreary-eyed tired, I got up, scaled down the ladder attached to my loft bed, and stumbled over to the phone answering machine. The little red light on the grey and silver rectangular machine was blinking in a hyperactive fashion. It was about 1:30 in the afternoon.

“Who the fuck is calling me,” I said to myself as I turned the volume up on the answering machine and hit Play.

Now this is where the weirdness really kicks in to a nerve-rattling gear. I’ve never had so many messages on my phone machine in my life and I didn’t understand a single one of them.

BEEEEP—“Hey, Marty, this is Tom, just calling to make sure you’re okay, call me when you get a chance.”—BEEEEP.

Tom is my older brother, who lives in New Jersey.

“Why in the fuck is he calling to see if I’m okay at this hour?” I wondered. Then:

BEEEEP—“Dude, it’s Alex, I rode my bike over the Brooklyn Bridge. I saw the people jumping out of the buildings, call me when you can. I’m drinking already.”—BEEEEP

“Huh?” Alex is one of my best friends, who used to live in Brooklyn.

“People jumping out of buildings?” I thought to myself. I was starting to feel like you do when you’ve smoked too much pot and start jumping out of your skin as paranoia strikes deep. And with every message, I was feeling more and more creeped out.

There were messages from everybody in my family, almost everybody I know in New York, and messages from old friends from my hometown of Peoria, Illinois. And they all were pretty much the same: “Are you okay?...call when you get a chance...are you all right?...we want to make sure you’re okay....”

Nobody said what had happened. Everybody sounded weird and more than one person was crying. I was starting to imagine apocalypse. Now.

Finally, after I listened to all of them, I looked at my window and wondered what in the fucking hell was lurking out there. I keep black construction paper taped over the two small windows in my apartment to keep the sunlight out (Elvis hours and all) and for a couple of sickening minutes I just stared at my black windows and trying to imagine the horror that was happening on the other side. Finally I walked over to the door that leads to the roof overhang and slowly and carefully opened it up and poked my head out like a turtle coming out of his shell. When I looked outside, I was shocked.

Everything looked normal.

I looked outside and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Sure, I heard some sirens, but that’s standard operating procedure for New York City. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was bright blue and was dotted with white fluffy clouds. A bird flew overhead and a warm breeze hit my face. Maybe Hell wasn’t hiccupping after all.

Then  I shut the door and turned on the TV.

I can’t remember which station it was, but I remember looking at the screen, seeing planes flying into buildings and people with horrific zombielike faces running away in big crowds from giant dust clouds. My jaw dropped and I grabbed my stomach. It kind of looked like New York and I instinctively and quickly turned the channel, somehow hoping that would make this go away.

It didn’t.

After I watched the TV and figured out what happened I went outsid to the street, looked downtown and saw the brown sky. I should’ve walked away from it, but I wasn’t thinking clearly and started to walk towards it.

Throngs of people were walking like zombies towards the brown sky. Before I knew  it, I had joined this lemminglike parade. Regular traffic was shut off after 14th Street, so it got increasingly surreal the closer I got. No cars except cop cars, helicopters buzzing overhead, a brown sky, people walking willy-nilly in every direction, everybody with a dazed how-could-this-happen look plastered on their puss. Some people were openly weeping. Army men with guns dotted every street. Cops were all over the place. TV cameras and the talking heads from all of the news channels were blithering and blathering on every other corner. It was chaos. I got pretty close and then decided I really didn’t want to be down there anymore. What I wanted was a beer, so I turned around and started walking towards the blue side of the city. It probably wasn’t normal anymore either, but it had to beat the brown side of town.

I wandered to many bars that afternoon and evening. The atmosphere in the bars was weird. They were all filled with people drinking in almost total silence while staring obsessively at CNN on the television sets. I finished the night off at a bar called the Stoned Crow drinking beer after silent beer while watching the TV people endlessly replay the tape of the planes flying into the buildings. On my way home, I bought a six-pack from a Korean deli. The little fiftysomething Korean man behind the counter took my money and put the beer in a paper bag. After he gave me my change, he touched my arm as I grabbed the bag and said, “You be safe, okay?” I looked at him and nodded, I couldn't talk because I felt like I was going to start crying. I remember wondering if I was going nuts.

When I got back to my studio apartment on 16th Street, I opened a can of beer and looked at the round plastic clock hanging on my wall. It was 12:24. The day was officially over. I felt a small speck of relief washing over me. I took a long gulp from the 16-ounce can of Budweiser and thought to myself, “Jesus, what a weird fucking day.”

Further Reading: New York Times, NY Post, NY Daily News and Crotty Farm Report.

You Might Also Like: Ten Years After, Ten Years Gone and Ten.

The Five Original Members of The Grateful Dead
Jerry Garcia
Bob Weir
Phil Lesh
Ron “Pigpen” McKernan
Bill Kreutzmann

New York City,
Badass City.

ARCHIVES

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Bonus Photo!
Kind of ironic that yesterday Gene Rubbico sent in this photo of New York he took on January 5th, 2010. Great photo, Gene, thanks. TO NYC!

May 1, 2011

Okay, today is just going to be more random photos. Sorry I haven’t done a full-fledged MAD post in the last couple of days, but I’ve been busy with my folks in town. Tonight we’re meeting my nieces (my brother Tom's daughters) who came in from Brooklyn, Queens and New Jersey to meet us for dinner. Here’s tonight’s photos.

I saw this head being sold on the way to my parents hotel. Yikes, creepy, huh?

Most hotels don't have a 13th floor, but this one does. It made me think of this band.

And here we are! From left: Cara, Dad, Caylin, Casie, her fiancée Anthony, me passed out on the table and my Mom. My Mom yelled at me for ruining yet another family photo. This has been going on for years! It was great to see my nieces and I thank them for making the trip into the city to hang out with us. And nice to meet future family member, Anthony! It was a fun meal and a great time.

Okay, the dinner is over and I thought I'd wander over to Times Square and snap some photos.

There's lots of "I <3 NY" souvenirs for sale in this area.

The crowds here are kind of unbearable. Everyone moves as quickly as a snail trooping through drying cement. Pure torture!

Hey, look at this, Playland Gifts, the place that has the hidden porno theater in the basement. Check out the post at Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, where I went down and got a couple of photos, just click on this link: Jeremiah's Vanishing New York.

It's really crowded in here, maybe I can pull off another shot of the theater!

I made it to the basement again, but there was a guy down there folding shirts and he went berserk on me for being down there and threw me out of the store. It was pretty exciting! I took this shot from the sidewalk about ten minutes later. If only people knew where they store these t-shirts! I have to try this again, it's a lot of fun!

Back into the crowd.

Sorry Tad's, I've eaten already, so I don't have room for one of your delicious steak dinners.

Everybody's taking pictures everywhere.

See? I gotta get out of here!

Okay, as I approach this cart, the crowds are thinning out and I'm getting closer to my home. I think I'll go home and check out some blogs, I've been offline for hours!

Okay, home sweet home. The computer's fired up, let's see what's happening over at EV Grieve.

AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Further reading: Gumby Vs. Cardboard Box Man, Random Photos, Times Square and Family Dinner.

You might also like: Yellow Submarines, Yellow Pages and Donovan.

Four Random Things Found on the Internet
Random.Org
Wikipedia
Urban Dictionary
Random House

And now that Superman’s made a movie,
No one reads his magazines.

ARCHIVES

April 30, 2011

Okay, usually I do the midnight movie thing on Fridays, but I’m busy with my parents in town and don’t have time to do it tonight, so I thought I’d just take pictures on my walk to their hotel today in midtown. One of the things I love about New York is just walking around and looking at all the sights, signs and people. So here we go.

And here we go, straight up 6th Avenue to midtown.

This guy's a regular in the neighborhood. He dresses up in newspaper and asks for money. I gave him two bucks and took this picture.

I like the back of this woman's head. I've been following her for three blocks now.

Okay, I'm officially in love with the back of her head. The back of her head is the Jodie Foster to my inner Travis Bickle. All of a sudden I feel like shooting a pimp and getting a mohawk. You talkin' to me?

Sadly she just turned the corner and now I'm stuck looking at this truck. Sob!

Indians!

How true! Cocaine and mescaline immediately come to mind.

The Walking Man.

No food, no drink, no pet...I ain't got no cigarettes!

I wonder how much things cost in this store?

Cheap Trick Nail Alert!

Smell the glove.

What a bold-faced lie!

Elvis on 43rd Street.

A texting woman in Starbucks. Sad.

For my Brazilian friends, I salute you!

Friar...

Paris...

Okay, this concludes our NYC walking tour. I'm almost to my parent's hotel. I hope you enjoyed it.

Obligatory goofy hotel elevator mirror shot! Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow, after dark.

Further reading: Big Onion, Walking Tours Manhattan, Uncle Sam’s New York and Walking Man.

You might also like: Frisky Business, Risky Business and Risk.

Four Foot
One
Two
Three
Four!

I didn’t know just what to do,
So I whispered, “I love you.”

ARCHIVES

April 29, 2011

Okay, I’m going out a bit early tonight. My Mom and Dad are in town and we’re going out to eat, so I’ll take a few pictures on the way and in their hotel room and then I’m going to write a story about their reaction to when I told them I was going to move to New York when I get back home. So there!

I really hate the daytime and these fucking slow-walkers that fan all over the sidewalk. Bah!

Jeremiah Moss flashback moment!

Okay, I'm here at their hotel room. I've scrambled the number so no internet stalkers will bother them.

Mom!

My Mom and Dad in their hotel room.

They had a bookshelf and books in their room, which I had never seen in a hotel room before and was amazed by it.

Hey, look at this one, "The Runaway"...could it be...

Yes! Joan Jett! What a magical evening!

This picture of this jockey kind of creeped me out. I took a picture of him and vowed never to look at it again.

Fire!

And look, through the magic of the internet, we're already at the Chinese restaurant!

Cheers! From us to you!

I kept telling my mom to order the Chicken with Three Different Nuts. It totally went over her head and she kept asking why I was telling her to order that dish. I'm easily amused.

The chopsticks here are high-grade plastic and made me think of a swizzle stick.

So I stole one of them. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow, after dark.

My Mom and Dad’s Reaction To Me Moving to New York
Back in April of 1993, I decided to move to New York. I was going to cash in my pension plan from my job I had worked at for 13 years. I had no job or job offers and knew about five people in New York. You have to realize that if you grow up in Peoria, work a decent job for 13 years and then decide out of the blue to quit it, cash in your retirement fund and move to New York with no friends or job offers pending it’s pretty much the same as saying to someone, “You know, I think I’ll build a spaceship and try and fly it to Mars.” So I was a little concerned as to what my parents reaction would be, when I told them what my plans for the future were.

I remember taking the night off from work and going to their house for dinner. I don’t remember what we had, but I remember being nervous about telling them what I wanted to do. I do remember my mom saying, “You’re quiet tonight, is everything alright?”

I can be a real motormouth, so when my gums aren’t flapping something is usually up and my mom can read me like a book. So I decided to spill my guts and I told them I was quitting my job, yanking my pension fund, planned on selling everything I owned and move to New York by the summertime. I wanted to move in the summertime because “Summer in the City” is one of my favorite Lovin’ Spoonful songs. I do things for reasons sometimes I don’t even get, but Zal Yanovsky has always been an inspiriation to me and he totally kicks ass in this song.

So told them and there was a moment of silence and then I don’t exactly remember who said what, but basically what they told me was this: “If you don’t do this now, you may always regret it. If things don’t work out you can always move back here and live in the basement and start all over.”

How great is that?

In the movie, “The Last Waltz,” Levon Helm describes coming to New York for the first time and he said, “You come to New York and get your butt kicked. Then you go home, heal up and come out and try it again and eventually you fall in love with the city.”

New York City can kick your ass. And believe me, New York City has kicked me in the ass more than once. But when it does, I just pick myself up, wipe the dust off my jeans and move the fuck on. Knowing I’ve got a room waiting for me in Peoria in case I get knocked out for good has helped me fight the good fight out here. Thanks Mom and Dad.

My parents are great people.

Further reading: Wikipedia, The Basement and Wikipedia.

You might also like: Merv Griffin, Griffin Dunne and Griffin Nightclub.

Five Son of’s...
Son of Sam
Son of Dad
Son of a Gun
Son of a Preacher Man
Son of a Bitch (Scroll down to the picture of the grafitti that says: Gruber MacDougal EATS SHIT!)

Sometimes,
I feel I gotta get away.

ARCHIVES

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Bonus Linkage!
Here’s more photos from the legendary Easter Sunday at Mars Bar, via the Villager and Ace Photographer, Jefferson Siegel. Check it out: Mars Bar in the Villager.

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Bonus Swizzle Stick!

Jaws sent in his perfect gin and tonic including his very own swizzle stick. Cheers to you, Jaws!