August 6, 2004 - Friday
The Great Blasphemy
I've had, for some time now, a novel in my head; it was in hibernation for a while, probably while I worked out my life, but now it's come back to the fore with a vengence. I'm in "I need to write" mode, and that's a good thing; I miss writing, it's been way too long. It's a story in an SF setting - and that's Science Friggin' Fiction, not this new "speculative fiction" they're calling the genre now. Based on the so-called Great Book, with my trademark twists and turns.
Every writer wants to write their version of the Great American Novel, the one book that will make their name a literary household word. I suppose I'm no exception. Except. Because I have to be the exception while not being an exception. Except I don't want to define a genre, I want to see picket lines outside the stores selling my books as the Xtian Right declare me a heathen of the highest order, and decry my book as a tool of the Adversary.
Hence, the Great Blasphemy.
Wish me luck!
Friday, August 06, 2004
Friday, July 16, 2004
Back in the Saddle, Part II
July 16, 2004 - Friday
Back in the Saddle II
I have a home again!
Rewind a bit. After the fire I pretty much needed a roof and 4 walls, ASAP. I'd crashed with a friend for a few days but I had no intention of staying there. A few calls to ads in the Voice and I landed in Astoria, new territory for this wandering monkey. The price wasn't great but it was in a quiet, clean neighborhood. The catch? It was a share.
Now, I know some of you out there do the share thing and it works for you, and to some extent life was all roses and sunshine. Maybe I was just in the wrong share situation, maybe I was with the wrong roommate, but after a while I started to realize I had to get the hell out of Dodge. Why?
- no living room. It was a 3-story family house, and the family lived on the bottom 2 floors. I shared the top floor with a roomie. 2 rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. Try having friends over in that situation.
- the GF situation. It's a little hard having sex when you've got 2 teenage girls and their parents sleeping directly beneath you. Factor in a roommate next door with "weird" written all over him and you start wondering what he might be doing while you're in the middle of it...ugh.
- sharing space. Now, I lost damn near everything in the fire so I showed up with a few items and sack of clothes. That changed as I started getting new things. Suddenly the space I had became too small and I started feeling claustrophobic, trapped and cluttered. I also cook a lot, so splitting a fridge and cabinet space was less than ideal.
All this added up to an apartment hunt, which is a nightmare in today's NYC market. Holy crap, the rents people are asking for! I saw one on craigslist.org (highly recommend!) that was going for $1000 in the village, but dammit was the village! I ran there after work, saw there were 3 other people there with me to see the place, and went up to check it out. Nice space, perfect - then the bombshell. It's a share!! With 3 other people!!! WTF!!! $1000 for a room, in a tiny ass apartment in the village? Are you nuts?
So I looked high and wide, and lo and behold in the hills of the REAL Upper Upper West Side of Manhattan I found my home. A studio apartment in the hills of Inwood, 2 steps from the forested lands of Inwood Hill and overlooking Broadway. I've even got a back door leading to a patio; bbq anyone?
I love this damned city.
Back in the Saddle II
I have a home again!
Rewind a bit. After the fire I pretty much needed a roof and 4 walls, ASAP. I'd crashed with a friend for a few days but I had no intention of staying there. A few calls to ads in the Voice and I landed in Astoria, new territory for this wandering monkey. The price wasn't great but it was in a quiet, clean neighborhood. The catch? It was a share.
Now, I know some of you out there do the share thing and it works for you, and to some extent life was all roses and sunshine. Maybe I was just in the wrong share situation, maybe I was with the wrong roommate, but after a while I started to realize I had to get the hell out of Dodge. Why?
- no living room. It was a 3-story family house, and the family lived on the bottom 2 floors. I shared the top floor with a roomie. 2 rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. Try having friends over in that situation.
- the GF situation. It's a little hard having sex when you've got 2 teenage girls and their parents sleeping directly beneath you. Factor in a roommate next door with "weird" written all over him and you start wondering what he might be doing while you're in the middle of it...ugh.
- sharing space. Now, I lost damn near everything in the fire so I showed up with a few items and sack of clothes. That changed as I started getting new things. Suddenly the space I had became too small and I started feeling claustrophobic, trapped and cluttered. I also cook a lot, so splitting a fridge and cabinet space was less than ideal.
All this added up to an apartment hunt, which is a nightmare in today's NYC market. Holy crap, the rents people are asking for! I saw one on craigslist.org (highly recommend!) that was going for $1000 in the village, but dammit was the village! I ran there after work, saw there were 3 other people there with me to see the place, and went up to check it out. Nice space, perfect - then the bombshell. It's a share!! With 3 other people!!! WTF!!! $1000 for a room, in a tiny ass apartment in the village? Are you nuts?
So I looked high and wide, and lo and behold in the hills of the REAL Upper Upper West Side of Manhattan I found my home. A studio apartment in the hills of Inwood, 2 steps from the forested lands of Inwood Hill and overlooking Broadway. I've even got a back door leading to a patio; bbq anyone?
I love this damned city.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Chunky Monkey
July 15, 2004 - Thursday
Chunky Monkey
Damn, life is getting too hectic. I'm sitting here at work with 3:27 left in my official workday, browsing MySpace to kill the boredom and suddenly there's this flash of happiness that floods my synapses and has me eager to get the fuck home.
Why? Because I've been so damned busy for the past few weeks that I forgot I have a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream in the fridge. Now, I don't care how old you are, what sex you are, what makes your dick hard or your pussy wet - nothing says lovin' like a spoonful of Chunky Monkey!
I've got drama to deal with when I get off this shift and papers to sign (more to come, on both), but I gotta tell ya I'm looking forward to that goddamned ice cream!
- da Monkey out
Chunky Monkey
Damn, life is getting too hectic. I'm sitting here at work with 3:27 left in my official workday, browsing MySpace to kill the boredom and suddenly there's this flash of happiness that floods my synapses and has me eager to get the fuck home.
Why? Because I've been so damned busy for the past few weeks that I forgot I have a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream in the fridge. Now, I don't care how old you are, what sex you are, what makes your dick hard or your pussy wet - nothing says lovin' like a spoonful of Chunky Monkey!
I've got drama to deal with when I get off this shift and papers to sign (more to come, on both), but I gotta tell ya I'm looking forward to that goddamned ice cream!
- da Monkey out
Friday, July 09, 2004
Holy Moses, I'm A Patriot
July 9, 2004 - Friday
Holy Moses, I'm a patriot?!
Small one this time. Minor rant.
It's the 4th of Joo-lai, and I'm coming home late from the usual gathering of friends.
I hear chatter from across the street; the naybs had a little shindig, and the dying
remnants of their hen party is hanging around outside the house yacking it up and
gulping down cheap wine.
Now...I'm a native Noo-Yawker. This ain't shee-it to me. It ain't noise until
its 3am and you got the papa-chulos outside in their hoopties, blaring some salsa
and hiphop right outside your window while fire engine/police/ambulance sirens wail
a distress call in the background. Then - and only then - will I call it noise.
So the poor man's Dead Poet Society happening across from my window was no biggie.
What got my dick hard was their choice of decoration - union jacks, arrayed in a
nice little row hanging from their balcony and lit up so no one would miss them.
For those not in the know, the British flag is called the Union Jack.
So, here we are on the celebration of this country's birth, so to speak - celebrating
our goddamned independence from the United Fucking Kingdom, and these yahoos are
parading the one flag that would be considered the antithesis of that struggle!
The thing is, I appreciate the irony of it. I do. But oddly, this tiny little
friggin' Paul Revere that somehow found it's psychological self buried in my subconscious
decided that today was a good day to ring that gods-fucked bell and start yelling
"The British are Coming!"
So I was pissed. I glared at that house every morning for the next few days before
I finally let go of it.
Surprised the fuck out of me. Patriotism. Who knew?
I'd still kick George Jr's ass on national television, tho'. The fucker.
Holy Moses, I'm a patriot?!
Small one this time. Minor rant.
It's the 4th of Joo-lai, and I'm coming home late from the usual gathering of friends.
I hear chatter from across the street; the naybs had a little shindig, and the dying
remnants of their hen party is hanging around outside the house yacking it up and
gulping down cheap wine.
Now...I'm a native Noo-Yawker. This ain't shee-it to me. It ain't noise until
its 3am and you got the papa-chulos outside in their hoopties, blaring some salsa
and hiphop right outside your window while fire engine/police/ambulance sirens wail
a distress call in the background. Then - and only then - will I call it noise.
So the poor man's Dead Poet Society happening across from my window was no biggie.
What got my dick hard was their choice of decoration - union jacks, arrayed in a
nice little row hanging from their balcony and lit up so no one would miss them.
For those not in the know, the British flag is called the Union Jack.
So, here we are on the celebration of this country's birth, so to speak - celebrating
our goddamned independence from the United Fucking Kingdom, and these yahoos are
parading the one flag that would be considered the antithesis of that struggle!
The thing is, I appreciate the irony of it. I do. But oddly, this tiny little
friggin' Paul Revere that somehow found it's psychological self buried in my subconscious
decided that today was a good day to ring that gods-fucked bell and start yelling
"The British are Coming!"
So I was pissed. I glared at that house every morning for the next few days before
I finally let go of it.
Surprised the fuck out of me. Patriotism. Who knew?
I'd still kick George Jr's ass on national television, tho'. The fucker.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Back In The Saddle
June 29, 2004 - Tuesday
Back in the Saddle
Damn it's been a long time, hasn't it? Where the fuck have I been?
To make a long, fucked up story short I had a fire in my place back at the end of October and damn-near lost everything. Sux to be me, doesn't it? It's incredibly hard to describe the full range of emotions that ran through my brain when I got the call from a friend in my building late that night saying "Dude...your place is gone."
And I mean, it was all literally gone. I got to see the remains of the place, it was an empty dark shell of charcoal and ashes.
What pained me most were the loss of two things: my dog and my writings/drawings/photos.
The former was the sweetest grey/white, blue-eyed husky you've ever had the pleasure to meet. Maia, it's been 7 months and I still miss your goony face looking at me like I was your best friend in the world. You deserved better. I watched her being born, I raised her and then had the agonizing pain of carrying her blood-spattered corpse out of what used to be my apartment. It'll be a long, long time before I take on the responsibility of caring for another animal; not just because I don't think I can handle it yet, but because I'm not ready to "replace" my girl.
The loss of the latter was a different sort of heart-wrenching experience. All the little notes and research for potential story ideas, all the outlines and concepts I'd jotted down over the past 15 or so years, all the sketches and drawings and letters I'd written and saved, the poems I'd written down, the photos I'd taken of all the people I've known and loved over the years...
...gone in a blaze of fire.
It's like a part of me, a part of my history, my inner core, was extinguished in that fire. I felt like I lost a sense of identity, of who I was - because so much of who I'd been was in those papers and photos and drawings. A part of me burned in that fire, and it took me a long time to get over that. Hell, I'm still not over it - but at least I've climbed back up onto the hill and continued my ascent up the slope.
And there's the rub of the life of a Capricorn. I read, once, that we Cappys are destined (doomed?) to forever strive...just to strive. To always reach, to climb, to take the hard road to the mountaintop. It's why we're the SeaGoat - because we start in the deepest of oceans and climb from the stormy seas up the side of the highest mountains.
Fortunately for me my Monkey side is stronger than I give it credit for; I think it's that side of my personality that keeps me climbing when most would just give up, squat at the base of the mountain and wait for life to end. That damnable Monkey refuses to believe I'm beaten and keeps me moving, always searching for another handhold, a foothold, a place to lift myself higher and higher despite the weather, the terrain, despite anything that would knock me back or keep me down.
So oook oook, baby. The Monkey's back.
Back in the Saddle
Damn it's been a long time, hasn't it? Where the fuck have I been?
To make a long, fucked up story short I had a fire in my place back at the end of October and damn-near lost everything. Sux to be me, doesn't it? It's incredibly hard to describe the full range of emotions that ran through my brain when I got the call from a friend in my building late that night saying "Dude...your place is gone."
And I mean, it was all literally gone. I got to see the remains of the place, it was an empty dark shell of charcoal and ashes.
What pained me most were the loss of two things: my dog and my writings/drawings/photos.
The former was the sweetest grey/white, blue-eyed husky you've ever had the pleasure to meet. Maia, it's been 7 months and I still miss your goony face looking at me like I was your best friend in the world. You deserved better. I watched her being born, I raised her and then had the agonizing pain of carrying her blood-spattered corpse out of what used to be my apartment. It'll be a long, long time before I take on the responsibility of caring for another animal; not just because I don't think I can handle it yet, but because I'm not ready to "replace" my girl.
The loss of the latter was a different sort of heart-wrenching experience. All the little notes and research for potential story ideas, all the outlines and concepts I'd jotted down over the past 15 or so years, all the sketches and drawings and letters I'd written and saved, the poems I'd written down, the photos I'd taken of all the people I've known and loved over the years...
...gone in a blaze of fire.
It's like a part of me, a part of my history, my inner core, was extinguished in that fire. I felt like I lost a sense of identity, of who I was - because so much of who I'd been was in those papers and photos and drawings. A part of me burned in that fire, and it took me a long time to get over that. Hell, I'm still not over it - but at least I've climbed back up onto the hill and continued my ascent up the slope.
And there's the rub of the life of a Capricorn. I read, once, that we Cappys are destined (doomed?) to forever strive...just to strive. To always reach, to climb, to take the hard road to the mountaintop. It's why we're the SeaGoat - because we start in the deepest of oceans and climb from the stormy seas up the side of the highest mountains.
Fortunately for me my Monkey side is stronger than I give it credit for; I think it's that side of my personality that keeps me climbing when most would just give up, squat at the base of the mountain and wait for life to end. That damnable Monkey refuses to believe I'm beaten and keeps me moving, always searching for another handhold, a foothold, a place to lift myself higher and higher despite the weather, the terrain, despite anything that would knock me back or keep me down.
So oook oook, baby. The Monkey's back.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Offline and Reality Bites
November 4, 2003 - Tuesday
Offline and Reality Bites!
I'm somewhat pleased to announce that I CAN kick the electronic habit anytime I want to. Really.
For reasons I will NOT get into right now, I've been sans TV and web access for about a week, give or take some quick sneaks online at work. I felt like a junkie going through withdrawals, and I'm still playing catchup.
But like a true trooper I withstood the assault on my digital senses and survived, all the better for knowing I am no longer dependant on bits and bytes for my entertainment.
Having said that, I went channel surfing for the first time in a week yesterday - and stumbled across NBC's latest bucket of piss: "Average Joe".
I'm bored, so I figure why not. Holy mother of creation, this was easily the funniest concept for a reality show I've seen yet! Mind you, this is coming from someone who stopped watching these pap smears with the 2nd season of Survivor; nothing yet has peaked my interest, and that includes American Idol.
But this...sweet Bajeezus. I laughed, I cried. For those not in the know, the concept is they take a supermodel-esque Barbie lookalike and pull a "Bachelorette" on her, with a twist: all the guys are dorks, nerds, geeks and freaks. Oh my fucking god, it was like a Revenge of the Nerds reunion show!
I thought it was funny enough when the idiot-jock stereotype cracked an egg on the uber-geek with the combover's head. I thought it was even funnier when he ran squealing back to the house because gods-forbid the egg should stain and ruin his shirt. I was incredulous when they cheered bucky the wide-smiled wonder nerd who "rescued" the shirt, hand washing it for combover king.
But then they introduced the boyz to Barbie, and then the fun began.
First: it was a sad, cruel joke to have the tall, long-locked pretty boy step out of a limo to her first, just to tell her that he's not one of the bachelors but he wanted to wish her good luck. When she whimpered "please stay" as he walked off, I nearly lost it. "Oh baby, you don't know the HALF of what's headed your way! Mwah-hah-hah!!"
Second: how fucking clueless do you have to be not to realize there's a joke being played on you when Kathy Griffin, the retarded redhead from - of all shows - Suddenly Susan - is the host? I mean, really - did she honestly think this was going to be a serious dating show?
My powers of precognition kicked into full gear, because I knew combover-king was going to be the first to meet and greet. I mean with that big cro-magnon Leader-esque forehead, the cheesy combover and - AND - the black hornrim glasses, he became the posterboy for nerdy desperation.
The look on Barbie's face was priceless. First the anticipatory smile as the shadowy figure emerges, then the look of absolute incredulity - the wide-eyed surprise, the mouth agape - fucking priceless! But to her credit it only lasted a second, then the fake "Oh fuck I'm on TV I've got to deal with this" smile came out and she took each and every behemoth and troglodyte in stride. Major props to Barbie.
The guys, on the other hand...holy shit. I thought half of them were going to cream their pants. Combover barely made it past her without stumbling. Another had his shoes untied. Yet another actually commented to her on how good her, err, assets looked.
Best line: this one blubber boy, who frankly has sleaze written all over him, says to the camera that with some guys deciding to "hang back" from the meet and greet and with 4 facing elimination, that puts him within 8 guys of one "hot piece of ass".
Dream on, Shamoo.
End of show, one of the guys booted actually said "But I need a girl!"
Fucking priceless.
Nothing else is on Mondays at 10. What the fuck, right?
Offline and Reality Bites!
I'm somewhat pleased to announce that I CAN kick the electronic habit anytime I want to. Really.
For reasons I will NOT get into right now, I've been sans TV and web access for about a week, give or take some quick sneaks online at work. I felt like a junkie going through withdrawals, and I'm still playing catchup.
But like a true trooper I withstood the assault on my digital senses and survived, all the better for knowing I am no longer dependant on bits and bytes for my entertainment.
Having said that, I went channel surfing for the first time in a week yesterday - and stumbled across NBC's latest bucket of piss: "Average Joe".
I'm bored, so I figure why not. Holy mother of creation, this was easily the funniest concept for a reality show I've seen yet! Mind you, this is coming from someone who stopped watching these pap smears with the 2nd season of Survivor; nothing yet has peaked my interest, and that includes American Idol.
But this...sweet Bajeezus. I laughed, I cried. For those not in the know, the concept is they take a supermodel-esque Barbie lookalike and pull a "Bachelorette" on her, with a twist: all the guys are dorks, nerds, geeks and freaks. Oh my fucking god, it was like a Revenge of the Nerds reunion show!
I thought it was funny enough when the idiot-jock stereotype cracked an egg on the uber-geek with the combover's head. I thought it was even funnier when he ran squealing back to the house because gods-forbid the egg should stain and ruin his shirt. I was incredulous when they cheered bucky the wide-smiled wonder nerd who "rescued" the shirt, hand washing it for combover king.
But then they introduced the boyz to Barbie, and then the fun began.
First: it was a sad, cruel joke to have the tall, long-locked pretty boy step out of a limo to her first, just to tell her that he's not one of the bachelors but he wanted to wish her good luck. When she whimpered "please stay" as he walked off, I nearly lost it. "Oh baby, you don't know the HALF of what's headed your way! Mwah-hah-hah!!"
Second: how fucking clueless do you have to be not to realize there's a joke being played on you when Kathy Griffin, the retarded redhead from - of all shows - Suddenly Susan - is the host? I mean, really - did she honestly think this was going to be a serious dating show?
My powers of precognition kicked into full gear, because I knew combover-king was going to be the first to meet and greet. I mean with that big cro-magnon Leader-esque forehead, the cheesy combover and - AND - the black hornrim glasses, he became the posterboy for nerdy desperation.
The look on Barbie's face was priceless. First the anticipatory smile as the shadowy figure emerges, then the look of absolute incredulity - the wide-eyed surprise, the mouth agape - fucking priceless! But to her credit it only lasted a second, then the fake "Oh fuck I'm on TV I've got to deal with this" smile came out and she took each and every behemoth and troglodyte in stride. Major props to Barbie.
The guys, on the other hand...holy shit. I thought half of them were going to cream their pants. Combover barely made it past her without stumbling. Another had his shoes untied. Yet another actually commented to her on how good her, err, assets looked.
Best line: this one blubber boy, who frankly has sleaze written all over him, says to the camera that with some guys deciding to "hang back" from the meet and greet and with 4 facing elimination, that puts him within 8 guys of one "hot piece of ass".
Dream on, Shamoo.
End of show, one of the guys booted actually said "But I need a girl!"
Fucking priceless.
Nothing else is on Mondays at 10. What the fuck, right?
Monday, October 27, 2003
Ghosts & Goblins Need Love Too
October 27, 2003 - Monday
Ghosts & Goblins need love too!
Fuck Christmas.
Okay that was harsh, but that got your attention right? Check it. I'm Hallow's shopping with a friend and we pass this store - CVS, whatever, some discount place - and there are Xmas trees in the window.
I know I should be used to this shit, it happens every year. But fuck man, give a holiday a little respect! Can we at least get past Halloween FIRST before you throw out the pagan winter celebration, I mean "Christmas", decorations? When, exactly, did Halloween become this fly-by-night (no pun intended) "let's just get this over with" holiday?
Since I'm ranting, what's up with all you Hallow-hating peeps anyway? Are you really that insecure and afraid of looking uncool that you think Halloween is just a day for kids? What, you still associate it with playing dress-up as a tot, and gods forbid you do something so childish?
Well fuck you then. If you've got that stick so far up your ass that you can't let loose for one day a year, then I really feel sorry for your kids. And mine, because they'll have to deal with your uptight little nazi soldiers on a daily basis.
Halloween is about having fun, about letting your hair down and being something else for a change. It's about letting the wild child inside of you come out to play - just for a night. Be daring, be sexy, be cool, be a fool - be anything you want, man, it's fucking HALLOWEEN! It's your chance to play like you're a kid again, no repercussions! For one night it's okay to dress like a clown, to be that superhero you always wanted to be, to dress like a hooker and laugh about it. You can be loud, you can be colorful, you can be electric! Shock the world, baby, and the world will laugh right along with you!
And the next day you can go back to your Pleasantville existance, living a black and white life while dreaming in vivid technicolor.
For those of you who "get it" - bravo. For those of you who bolt your doors on October 31st and frown your nose up at the revelers outside - kiss my spandex-wearing ass.
Happy Halloween!
Ghosts & Goblins need love too!
Fuck Christmas.
Okay that was harsh, but that got your attention right? Check it. I'm Hallow's shopping with a friend and we pass this store - CVS, whatever, some discount place - and there are Xmas trees in the window.
I know I should be used to this shit, it happens every year. But fuck man, give a holiday a little respect! Can we at least get past Halloween FIRST before you throw out the pagan winter celebration, I mean "Christmas", decorations? When, exactly, did Halloween become this fly-by-night (no pun intended) "let's just get this over with" holiday?
Since I'm ranting, what's up with all you Hallow-hating peeps anyway? Are you really that insecure and afraid of looking uncool that you think Halloween is just a day for kids? What, you still associate it with playing dress-up as a tot, and gods forbid you do something so childish?
Well fuck you then. If you've got that stick so far up your ass that you can't let loose for one day a year, then I really feel sorry for your kids. And mine, because they'll have to deal with your uptight little nazi soldiers on a daily basis.
Halloween is about having fun, about letting your hair down and being something else for a change. It's about letting the wild child inside of you come out to play - just for a night. Be daring, be sexy, be cool, be a fool - be anything you want, man, it's fucking HALLOWEEN! It's your chance to play like you're a kid again, no repercussions! For one night it's okay to dress like a clown, to be that superhero you always wanted to be, to dress like a hooker and laugh about it. You can be loud, you can be colorful, you can be electric! Shock the world, baby, and the world will laugh right along with you!
And the next day you can go back to your Pleasantville existance, living a black and white life while dreaming in vivid technicolor.
For those of you who "get it" - bravo. For those of you who bolt your doors on October 31st and frown your nose up at the revelers outside - kiss my spandex-wearing ass.
Happy Halloween!
Thursday, October 23, 2003
I Need A Subject, Too?!
I need a subject too?!
Damn this myspace crap, now I'm feeling all guilty cuz everytime I log on (granted I should be working right now, but fuck you) I get this "you haven't filled out a journal" message. Annoying biatch.
So whatever, I'm now another drone in the blorg-world hive. Lucky me. Or is it lucky you? I don't have shit to say right now, but if it'll get rid of that stupid message on my home page I'll gladly fill this white space with so much rambling ink it'll look like downtown LA after the Rodney King verdict!
Okay that was wrong. But so what, I'm from Crooklyn so I could give a rat's ass about the west siiiiide.
Speaking of the East kicking ass, I can't wait to watch my Yanks fry up some fish tonight! The Moose is loose and Beckett's gonna cry wee-wee-wee all the way back home. Best line I heard was on Z100 today: "Pretty soon the Marlins are gonna be sleeping with the rest of the fishes!" Hah! That's good funny shit.
Reminds me of years, years, years ago when Marvelous Marvin Hagler (you're STILL the best ever, man!) kicked Tommy Hearn's ass all over the ring. There was a pizza commercial; I think it was Pizza Hut, but who gives a fuck - it's got nothing to do with this story. He's there just eating the pizza, munch munch crunch crunch, not saying a word, no fancy stuff, plain background, he's in a tux; this goes on for, what, 15 seconds or so? Nothing but him eating.
Finally he's almost finished chewing, looks up at the camera while wiping his mouth, and goes: "I wonder what what's-his-name is doing right now?"
Chuckle. Chews some more. Winks at the camera.
"Probably eating soup."
Hope the Marlins like vegetable beef.
Damn this myspace crap, now I'm feeling all guilty cuz everytime I log on (granted I should be working right now, but fuck you) I get this "you haven't filled out a journal" message. Annoying biatch.
So whatever, I'm now another drone in the blorg-world hive. Lucky me. Or is it lucky you? I don't have shit to say right now, but if it'll get rid of that stupid message on my home page I'll gladly fill this white space with so much rambling ink it'll look like downtown LA after the Rodney King verdict!
Okay that was wrong. But so what, I'm from Crooklyn so I could give a rat's ass about the west siiiiide.
Speaking of the East kicking ass, I can't wait to watch my Yanks fry up some fish tonight! The Moose is loose and Beckett's gonna cry wee-wee-wee all the way back home. Best line I heard was on Z100 today: "Pretty soon the Marlins are gonna be sleeping with the rest of the fishes!" Hah! That's good funny shit.
Reminds me of years, years, years ago when Marvelous Marvin Hagler (you're STILL the best ever, man!) kicked Tommy Hearn's ass all over the ring. There was a pizza commercial; I think it was Pizza Hut, but who gives a fuck - it's got nothing to do with this story. He's there just eating the pizza, munch munch crunch crunch, not saying a word, no fancy stuff, plain background, he's in a tux; this goes on for, what, 15 seconds or so? Nothing but him eating.
Finally he's almost finished chewing, looks up at the camera while wiping his mouth, and goes: "I wonder what what's-his-name is doing right now?"
Chuckle. Chews some more. Winks at the camera.
"Probably eating soup."
Hope the Marlins like vegetable beef.
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