Not in a taxicab this time, boys, but the back of a U-Haul truck?!?
Let me start from the beginning. Today I got a call that everyone on fucking Earth dreads – “Can you help me move?”
It’s a rainy Saturday and work has been a bitch for me the last couple of weeks. Do I really feel like making a three-borough, nine hour slosh around town in the metallic innards of a windowless U-Haul? No, I don’t. I want to sit on my couch and watch college football games with teams I couldn’t give two shits about.
Alas, I’ll be participating in such momentous events as tape-gunning, sofa stairwell pivoting, and the giant oak headboard long toss. Just to make it more enticing, I'll have to start my day with a 7 train LOCAL to the very last stop in Flushing (plus a bus). Fuckin’ A.
I get to the move site and crazy (i'll call her) Zelda is the first to greet me. Like me, she's just a helper and is friends with the people moving. As is my wont, I’ll try to be as succinct as possible in describing Zelda, but I’ll take the liberty be as thorough as I feel is warranted. Now that I’ve explained how I’ll explain her, behold:
She’s this little sparkplug of a thing who wears librarian glasses, but likes to scream in the street for no reason and sometimes uses a playful judo kick as a substitute for a hug. She also likes to hug.
I learned today that she came here when she was 9 or 10 years old from Taiwan, even though I always thought she was A.B.C.* (American Born Chinese) *Editor’s Note: The author of this piece likes Asian girls, pretty much exclusively. **Author’s Note: Shut the fuck up, Editor, I’m in the middle of a story.
Anyway, this Zelda, is a championship caliber tennis player, her mother died when she was a baby, and she likes to end statements or questions with a very ghetto-chic “Yo.” For example, she’ll say something like, “I can slap a forehand winner past your lame ass anytime I want, Yo!”
She’s also very cute - but not in the typical Pan-Asian, no-hipped, skinny-armed, high and wide-cheekboned kind of way. She has curves and muscles…and these little elfin ears that stick out at an adorable 45 degree angle. It’s me and her and bunch of furniture in the pitch black cargo hold of a U-haul, headed south on the Van Wyck.
Zelda and I went on a quasi double date a while ago with the two people who are sitting upfront, in the human area of the truck. I say quasi because I was the only one who thought it was a date. Whatever. No biggie. I’ve seen her a few times since, and we’re always friendly. So we’re back there and we start bouncing into each other as the road gets bumpier. There’s barely room for the both of us, as we’re almost fully encased in wood and boxsprings.
“I’m gonna kiss you, Zelda,” I warn.
I move in. She swivels her head like she's fuckin' Linda Blair and gives me all cheek.
“What the hell is that, Yo?” she screams, more surprised than pissed, slowly turning her face back towards me, making sure it's safe.
“C’mon.” (One of those familiar Zipper 'C'mon's)
“C’mon, what?”
“We’re practically in each others arms, we’re involuntarily grinding each other, (which fyi has the same effect as voluntarily grinding), nobody can see us, it’s raining, and we’re in a freakin' U-haul.”
“So?”
“So it’s romantic,” I shrug. “And when they asked, it seemed like you were eager to be back here with me.”
“I thought it would be fun,” she purrs while play-slapping me.
“Yeah…so did I.”
She registers the sarcasm.
“Shut up. It will be fun.”
“Says you, yo,” I smirk.
We spend the next half hour bouncing around, talking, laughing and not making out. She was right, it was fun. I know, not a very exciting climax to the story, but a peek inside the zany shit that happens to me. I know I mention that show Californication from time to time, but I will again. There was a line a few weeks ago in there something to the effect that we all live in our own little romantic-comedic worlds. This was totally one of those moments for me.
Incidentally, almost all romantic comedies have the same exact formula: Act I - Boy meets girl, Act II - Boy loses girl, Act III - Boy gets girl. Act III in real life is hard sometimes.
**********
On a totally different vibe, I had the opportunity to spend a few minutes with an Auschwitz survivor today. It was a neighbor of the guy who was moving.
I'm a little bit of history guy, so hearing some of her stories was more interesting than anything Ken Burns or PBS can come up with. She was Hungarian and was shocked when I recognized her accent. (I pride myself on my accent recognition). At one point in 1944 I think, she pretended to be Romanian so she could get a lift from Poland to Budapest for her and her brother from some Romanian soldiers in a caravan. She didn't verbalize it, but implied to me that the soldiers didn't want money from her, but at the same time, the ride was not free.
One thing that struck me as odd was how eager she was to show me her tattoo, once she found out I that was Jewish. There was something so ominous and powerful about those faded green numbers on her papery-skinned wrist. I was a little taken aback by the weird pride she had about it. I don't know, just freaked me out I guess. I had never seen one of those before in real life. I realized a few minutes later that I also haven't seen 1% of the shit that this poor woman has seen in her life.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Planet Californication
There is so much shit on TV, that when a quality show comes on, I must try to do what I can to make people watch it. Geico Cavemen, Charlie Sheen, and Dancing with the Stars not withstanding, there hasn’t been anything really on since Six Feet Under was voluntarily buried by Alan Ball two years ago.
I mentioned the Showtime show Californication in this space very early on it the lifecycle of this blog. Not only does the show get better each and every week (with the exception of the episode when all the characters attend a fundraiser, but we’ll give them a mulligan for that one), but the main character becomes more and more like me with each show.
Hank, the main character, a New York writer, has moved to LA after they turned his novel into a movie. Very reluctantly, he takes a job writing a blog. (Editor's note: I started this blog the night before this show aired it's premiere episode, which is just plain kooky). Anyway, he is in bed MEREDITH, a women who he’s on the precipice of getting serious with (which is also with a degree of reluctance).
As they are about to have morning sex, Hank says something funny. She responds with an ‘LOL’:
HANK
What’d you just say? Just now? LOL? Laugh out Loud?
MEREDITH: Yeah, so?
HANK
Is that part of your lexicon? Really? LOL?
MEREDITH: Shouldn’t that be part of yours too? You are writing in Cyberspace now.
HANK
There’s goes my boner. Wave bye bye.
MEREDITH:
What is your issue with L.O.L?
HANK
I don’t have an issue with it unless you count the fact that every time you say it, you’re contributing to death of the English language.
MEREDITH:
So let me get this straight. You’re gonna let the fact that I said LOL get in the way of me giving you the best B.J. of your life?
HANK
Not when you put it that way.
She goes down on him. He smiles in a contrite way.
HANK
I’m not the biggest fan of the team B.J. either.
Let me switch gears for a second and quote myself. I wrote the following when I introduced myself to you and the blogging community. It was in the first entry called “Opening Salvo”, when I actually thought I’d get feedback:
“I won't make rule about it, but let's keep the :)'s and the LOL's, etc, to an absolute minimum. I realize the smiley face is necessary because of its statement softening properties and the LOL really lets everyone know you think something is funny, but do me a favor and save that shit for your IM's to Krissy47."
What’s my point you ask? In quoting myself or paralleling these two things. Not much really. None other than this is my colossal right as blog owner and sole contributor. I guess I’m trying to say that a TV show is easier to like when you identify with the character. This show is just more than that, however. It’s conflict-ridden, smart and funny and Duchovney allows us to feel his character’s vulnerability, even though he’s a gruff, confrontational, man whore. But he’s witty and clever too. This is what makes a good character. Not gimmicks and stupid situations and all the other contrived shit that TV throws at the wall and ultimately on to our screens. It's the characters, stupid. Genuine, smart, vulnerable and ultimately likeable. It’s all on display when he confronts the director of the shitty movie on which his book is based – played by Krazy-Eyez Killah himself, Chris Williams. (opening scene of episode 3)
And just another ridiculous piece of information, straight from Planet Karma: Hank gets a piece of mail from his quasi-estranged father in a great flashback episode. The return address is Levittown, New York. The author of this blog’s address was Levittown, New York for the first 18 years of his life.
I mentioned the Showtime show Californication in this space very early on it the lifecycle of this blog. Not only does the show get better each and every week (with the exception of the episode when all the characters attend a fundraiser, but we’ll give them a mulligan for that one), but the main character becomes more and more like me with each show.
Hank, the main character, a New York writer, has moved to LA after they turned his novel into a movie. Very reluctantly, he takes a job writing a blog. (Editor's note: I started this blog the night before this show aired it's premiere episode, which is just plain kooky). Anyway, he is in bed MEREDITH, a women who he’s on the precipice of getting serious with (which is also with a degree of reluctance).
As they are about to have morning sex, Hank says something funny. She responds with an ‘LOL’:
HANK
What’d you just say? Just now? LOL? Laugh out Loud?
MEREDITH: Yeah, so?
HANK
Is that part of your lexicon? Really? LOL?
MEREDITH: Shouldn’t that be part of yours too? You are writing in Cyberspace now.
HANK
There’s goes my boner. Wave bye bye.
MEREDITH:
What is your issue with L.O.L?
HANK
I don’t have an issue with it unless you count the fact that every time you say it, you’re contributing to death of the English language.
MEREDITH:
So let me get this straight. You’re gonna let the fact that I said LOL get in the way of me giving you the best B.J. of your life?
HANK
Not when you put it that way.
She goes down on him. He smiles in a contrite way.
HANK
I’m not the biggest fan of the team B.J. either.
Let me switch gears for a second and quote myself. I wrote the following when I introduced myself to you and the blogging community. It was in the first entry called “Opening Salvo”, when I actually thought I’d get feedback:
“I won't make rule about it, but let's keep the :)'s and the LOL's, etc, to an absolute minimum. I realize the smiley face is necessary because of its statement softening properties and the LOL really lets everyone know you think something is funny, but do me a favor and save that shit for your IM's to Krissy47."
What’s my point you ask? In quoting myself or paralleling these two things. Not much really. None other than this is my colossal right as blog owner and sole contributor. I guess I’m trying to say that a TV show is easier to like when you identify with the character. This show is just more than that, however. It’s conflict-ridden, smart and funny and Duchovney allows us to feel his character’s vulnerability, even though he’s a gruff, confrontational, man whore. But he’s witty and clever too. This is what makes a good character. Not gimmicks and stupid situations and all the other contrived shit that TV throws at the wall and ultimately on to our screens. It's the characters, stupid. Genuine, smart, vulnerable and ultimately likeable. It’s all on display when he confronts the director of the shitty movie on which his book is based – played by Krazy-Eyez Killah himself, Chris Williams. (opening scene of episode 3)
And just another ridiculous piece of information, straight from Planet Karma: Hank gets a piece of mail from his quasi-estranged father in a great flashback episode. The return address is Levittown, New York. The author of this blog’s address was Levittown, New York for the first 18 years of his life.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
I'm the winner
Faithful readers…sorry I’ve been lazy about the blog, but I’ve been traveling for what seems like forever. Sort of a lame excuse because traveling is fairly conducive to writing, but I haven’t, so again my apologies. I’m now on a ten hour flight home, which is entirely too long already.
I watched Spider Man 3 and Fantastic 4, Part 2, which if you add it all together, is 9 cinematic units of crapola. Enough with the super hero movies already. Recently, they all suck (except the first 90 minutes of Batman Begins). These two shit pieces did kill four hours, but now there are fucking six hours left. Six hours. That’s almost like a full day of work. Actually, this isn’t too dissimilar than a day of work for me. I’m sitting in a leather-type chair, punching a keyboard, occasionally eating and going to the john - all of which I do when I’m in the office. I probably shouldn’t complain because I’m in business class, which makes this hell slightly more bearable.
The best part about being in business class however isn’t the movie choices,
or the slightly more edible and frequent foodie, or even the legroom. It’s the ability to see all those dopes in the crowded check-in counters or taking their shoes off at the x-ray machine, on my way to the luxurious lounge, repeating the same word in my head…”suckers.” Yes, in this scenario, I am a winner…a privileged and prized member of society, to be pampered with free drinks and celery and carrot sticks and coffee and croissants…as much as I want. I had a four-hour layover in Athens and enjoyed every second of it. Everyone not in that lounge is a loser. I’m the winner – of course until the next time I’m traveling on my own dime. Then I’m back to my usual perch, taking off my stinky-ass sneakers with the rest of them.
*************
My Ipod really has a sense of humor. I always keep it on Shuffle and as soon as the Captain said it was safe to activate approved electronic devices, The End by the Doors came on.
*************
Where did I go you ask? I went to Zurich for work and then Mykonos for pleasure. For those who have not been, I strongly suggest going to the Greek Islands. Everything was expensive, especially since the U.S. Dollar has officially changed its name to the U.S. Charmin or worse yet, the Canadian Dol
lar. They haven’t decided which, but either Mr. Whipple or Maurice “Rocket” Richard will be on the new bills.
I digress. Mykonos was absolutely (insert travel book words here) stunning, breathtaking, charming, gorgeous (did I miss any). Picture these gleaming white, sugar cube buildings, embedded in the mountains which overlook turquoise waters that would give Mexico or the Caribbean a run for their money. The narrow streets of the main town contained expensive shops, bars, souvenir stores and Gyro places, but the feeling wasn’t one of overwhelming commercialism/hard sell, like in Rome, where there is a used car salesman outside every restaurant begging you to come in. I rented a motor scooter to get around and only had three or four life-threatening episodes, but it was worth it - because on a nice straight away, when I could momentarily take my eyes off the road - I saw some of the most spectacular scenery in my humble travelogue. On my walk from hotel to beach, donkeys and roosters were on hand and if you’re a cat person, you’re in luck. One afternoon, I came into my room and a nice tabby was lying on my bed. They’re kind of all over the place, but not in an overwhelming way. Oh and by the way, the beaches are crawling with beautiful/naked girls. There also was a little bit of a Greco-Roman GayBoy sprinkling, but hey, I’m cool with it and it’s less competition for us straightsmen.
If the dollar makes a comeback, consider going there. Unfortunately, out of the three people that read this, none will take this advice as one of you was there with me and the other two never leave the country.
The only blight, and this was completely my fault, was Saturday night. It was marked by one of the most violent (appetite spoiler alert) and projectile vomit episodes for me in recent memory. We were drinking shot after shot after shot after Corona. I don’t remember much after dancing with a fraudulent transvestite, but when I woke up I had those always-tasty and ever chewy ralph remnants stuck in my teeth and my bathroom looked and smelled like a CSI crime scene. A batallion of 5,000 ants were munching away on partially digested Greek salad and mousakka (meat/cheese pie). Sounds lovely, n’est pas? Thank god I had a waterpik showerhead and was able to wash away the whole stinking, swarming mess before the stench made me puke again. Geeez, I haven’t puked like that since college, but at least I felt okay the next morning, except for this lump in between my stomach and throat that is still there - two days later.
Notice how I said nothing about Zurich. That’s because there’s not much there. My puking episode was more noteworthy. It’s a Central European financial center with all the charm of a hunk of Jarlsbourg. Just like Frankfurt and just like Milan. Maybe I need to explore a little more next time I’m there, which will be in a few weeks (for those of you keeping track).
*************
Speaking of charm, we just past Godtharb, Greenland. Super. I wonder what the hell goes on in Godtharb, Greenland. They a named town, so some
poor bastards must live there, right? I’ll check and let you know…or I’ll put a link here. I remember they sent Richie Cunningham to Greenland when they wrote him off Happy Days.
I guess they didn’t want to kill him off completely, so they did the closest thing. Ron Howard must have pissed somebody off pretty badly - but at least we finally got to meet Jenny Piccillo, who was a bit of a disappointment to me.
*************
Some week I missed on the New York Sports scene. What a joke the Mets are. I heard there was brawl on Saturday. That’s a good way to wake up a team who is out of the race. So then I’m watching the game on CBSSportline on Sunday and the Marlins are winning 7-0 in the first inning. Mets eliminated. Nice job Glavine. You started and ended your Met career in the same way (his first game as a Met, they lost 13-4)…disastrously. What a bunch of chokers. Losing 6 out of 7 at home to end the season to shitty teams. Only a team that I root for could do such a thing. The number of championships for my teams in my 35 years of sports fan-dom stands at TWO…Mets is ’86 and Rangers in ’94. What’s the fucking point?
And the Jets…hmmmm. I was also watching that on my computer in Mykonos (It was 8 pm my time on Sunday, so it wasn’t like I spent the day watching my teams on the computer). Losing to a team that was last in offense and defense and ravaged by injuries. I guess it’s always hard to win a divisional game on the road, but c’mon. Pennington’s numbers looked fine, but the dink and dunk bullshit is not risk/reward friendly enough and it doesn’t make it easy to run the ball by stretching the defense. Throw it deep once in a while just to show the other team you can. So what if it’s incomplete or picked. As much as I like him as an achiever and a person, his limitations are just too much for an NFL offense to handle.
My main fantasy team will be 0-4 unless Carson Palmer goes off the nut tonight…So The Mets, Jets and my fantasy team’s seasons all ended in the space of several hours…at least we’re closing in on Nova Scotia. Killed a couple of hours writing this and now there’s another meal coming for us. I think I will have whipped cream on my sundae this time. Suck that up, suckers in the back.
I watched Spider Man 3 and Fantastic 4, Part 2, which if you add it all together, is 9 cinematic units of crapola. Enough with the super hero movies already. Recently, they all suck (except the first 90 minutes of Batman Begins). These two shit pieces did kill four hours, but now there are fucking six hours left. Six hours. That’s almost like a full day of work. Actually, this isn’t too dissimilar than a day of work for me. I’m sitting in a leather-type chair, punching a keyboard, occasionally eating and going to the john - all of which I do when I’m in the office. I probably shouldn’t complain because I’m in business class, which makes this hell slightly more bearable.
The best part about being in business class however isn’t the movie choices,
or the slightly more edible and frequent foodie, or even the legroom. It’s the ability to see all those dopes in the crowded check-in counters or taking their shoes off at the x-ray machine, on my way to the luxurious lounge, repeating the same word in my head…”suckers.” Yes, in this scenario, I am a winner…a privileged and prized member of society, to be pampered with free drinks and celery and carrot sticks and coffee and croissants…as much as I want. I had a four-hour layover in Athens and enjoyed every second of it. Everyone not in that lounge is a loser. I’m the winner – of course until the next time I’m traveling on my own dime. Then I’m back to my usual perch, taking off my stinky-ass sneakers with the rest of them.*************
My Ipod really has a sense of humor. I always keep it on Shuffle and as soon as the Captain said it was safe to activate approved electronic devices, The End by the Doors came on.
*************
Where did I go you ask? I went to Zurich for work and then Mykonos for pleasure. For those who have not been, I strongly suggest going to the Greek Islands. Everything was expensive, especially since the U.S. Dollar has officially changed its name to the U.S. Charmin or worse yet, the Canadian Dol
lar. They haven’t decided which, but either Mr. Whipple or Maurice “Rocket” Richard will be on the new bills.I digress. Mykonos was absolutely (insert travel book words here) stunning, breathtaking, charming, gorgeous (did I miss any). Picture these gleaming white, sugar cube buildings, embedded in the mountains which overlook turquoise waters that would give Mexico or the Caribbean a run for their money. The narrow streets of the main town contained expensive shops, bars, souvenir stores and Gyro places, but the feeling wasn’t one of overwhelming commercialism/hard sell, like in Rome, where there is a used car salesman outside every restaurant begging you to come in. I rented a motor scooter to get around and only had three or four life-threatening episodes, but it was worth it - because on a nice straight away, when I could momentarily take my eyes off the road - I saw some of the most spectacular scenery in my humble travelogue. On my walk from hotel to beach, donkeys and roosters were on hand and if you’re a cat person, you’re in luck. One afternoon, I came into my room and a nice tabby was lying on my bed. They’re kind of all over the place, but not in an overwhelming way. Oh and by the way, the beaches are crawling with beautiful/naked girls. There also was a little bit of a Greco-Roman GayBoy sprinkling, but hey, I’m cool with it and it’s less competition for us straightsmen.
If the dollar makes a comeback, consider going there. Unfortunately, out of the three people that read this, none will take this advice as one of you was there with me and the other two never leave the country.
The only blight, and this was completely my fault, was Saturday night. It was marked by one of the most violent (appetite spoiler alert) and projectile vomit episodes for me in recent memory. We were drinking shot after shot after shot after Corona. I don’t remember much after dancing with a fraudulent transvestite, but when I woke up I had those always-tasty and ever chewy ralph remnants stuck in my teeth and my bathroom looked and smelled like a CSI crime scene. A batallion of 5,000 ants were munching away on partially digested Greek salad and mousakka (meat/cheese pie). Sounds lovely, n’est pas? Thank god I had a waterpik showerhead and was able to wash away the whole stinking, swarming mess before the stench made me puke again. Geeez, I haven’t puked like that since college, but at least I felt okay the next morning, except for this lump in between my stomach and throat that is still there - two days later.
Notice how I said nothing about Zurich. That’s because there’s not much there. My puking episode was more noteworthy. It’s a Central European financial center with all the charm of a hunk of Jarlsbourg. Just like Frankfurt and just like Milan. Maybe I need to explore a little more next time I’m there, which will be in a few weeks (for those of you keeping track).
*************
Speaking of charm, we just past Godtharb, Greenland. Super. I wonder what the hell goes on in Godtharb, Greenland. They a named town, so some
poor bastards must live there, right? I’ll check and let you know…or I’ll put a link here. I remember they sent Richie Cunningham to Greenland when they wrote him off Happy Days.I guess they didn’t want to kill him off completely, so they did the closest thing. Ron Howard must have pissed somebody off pretty badly - but at least we finally got to meet Jenny Piccillo, who was a bit of a disappointment to me.
*************
Some week I missed on the New York Sports scene. What a joke the Mets are. I heard there was brawl on Saturday. That’s a good way to wake up a team who is out of the race. So then I’m watching the game on CBSSportline on Sunday and the Marlins are winning 7-0 in the first inning. Mets eliminated. Nice job Glavine. You started and ended your Met career in the same way (his first game as a Met, they lost 13-4)…disastrously. What a bunch of chokers. Losing 6 out of 7 at home to end the season to shitty teams. Only a team that I root for could do such a thing. The number of championships for my teams in my 35 years of sports fan-dom stands at TWO…Mets is ’86 and Rangers in ’94. What’s the fucking point?
And the Jets…hmmmm. I was also watching that on my computer in Mykonos (It was 8 pm my time on Sunday, so it wasn’t like I spent the day watching my teams on the computer). Losing to a team that was last in offense and defense and ravaged by injuries. I guess it’s always hard to win a divisional game on the road, but c’mon. Pennington’s numbers looked fine, but the dink and dunk bullshit is not risk/reward friendly enough and it doesn’t make it easy to run the ball by stretching the defense. Throw it deep once in a while just to show the other team you can. So what if it’s incomplete or picked. As much as I like him as an achiever and a person, his limitations are just too much for an NFL offense to handle.
My main fantasy team will be 0-4 unless Carson Palmer goes off the nut tonight…So The Mets, Jets and my fantasy team’s seasons all ended in the space of several hours…at least we’re closing in on Nova Scotia. Killed a couple of hours writing this and now there’s another meal coming for us. I think I will have whipped cream on my sundae this time. Suck that up, suckers in the back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)