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.
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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).
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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.
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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.
3 comments:
Correct me if I'm wrong, but none of the events in the first 80% of this blog took place in "the City."
Yes, and I'll leave the counrty around the same time you get a TV bigger than piece of oak tag -- in other words -- never!!
I am part of the city, so what takes place or happens to me, is considered an extension of it. This blog and its name are simply metaphorical, and as I explained in my opening message, it may contain anything I want it to.
As is the luxury of being blog owner.
As far as the TV, size doesn't matter....unless of course it's smaller than 42 inches.
That's what she said.
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