Noise Pollution

“Axel,” the girl one bench over is practically screaming into her phone. “Axel. A-X-E-L. I guess she had the baby. I saw it on Facebook. Isn’t that a weird name?! Axel Joseph. I thought it the name was going to be Brian. Or Matt. But Axel? Wow…” she babbles on.
From the girl’s complete shock I can tell she must not watch The Middle, where the oldest kid is, in fact, named Axel. Though if we’re going to get technical I’m pretty sure on the show the name is spelled Axl. And quite frankly, if I’m making snap judgments based on her loud very pubic phone call I’d have to say she’s probably not from around here, probably from the middle, and probably should be watching The Middle. I don’t know if it’s her thick Michigan accent that gives it away, or her next phone call. As she chats I hear “I’m in Teddy Roosevelt Park near the train station.” Hmm, okay, but not quite the way I’d describe it.

It’s Five O’clock Somewhere

As I crack open my beer, Michelob Ultra – the athlete’s choice, I quickly glance at the clock. The digital face reads 4:02 in neon green numbers. It’s not 4:02 in the early hours of the morning, it’s 4:02 in the late hours of the afternoon. I’m unemployed – ahem, on what I worry could be a permanent hiatus – bored, and thirsty.

I've already gone to the gym today (hence choosing the beer for the athletic types), I’ve gone to the grocery store every day this week, and I don’t have any dishes left to do. I’m watching a repeat of House Hunters for the 3rd time (don't buy that ugly house) while waiting for Gilmore Girls to come on in an hour (just get together with Luke already!).

Okay, so it’s only 4:02 and I’m drinking alone in my apartment. But what if I were on a beach in Bermuda this very moment? It’s 5:00pm there. And, hell, it’s 5:00am in Tokyo. I raise my bottle in a toast to the club kids who must be drinking halfway across the world with me.

It’s happy hour no matter what the real time is. I am happy this hour. Because you know what? It’s Five O’clock Somewhere.

Wide Set Vaginas, If You Will

The new company health insurance only covers amputations, so I have been taking expired antibiotics I found under the sink.

Needless to say, I still have an ear and throat infection, therefore, this week has been filled with gratuitous tv watching, while my muscles atrophy.
Things that I have learned:

--Jake's abs will pick Big Bird as his true love.

--Michelle Duggar's vagina needs to go into Witness Protection from Jim Bob.

--I thought I was watching the Flying Tomato on Oprah, but really it was Temple Grandin yelling at a cow.

--The next time Alexis from Orange County prays, Jesus will tell her he's busy washing his hair.

-- All that's missing from Shondaland's desperate 1982 GRID plotline is the ghost of Andy Warhol.

--When a five year old puts on a slutty sailor uniform, it's called "Wow Wear".

At this rate, "The Little Couple" will debut on my DVR in no time.

Expage texts me : Watching Hurt Locker, SO stressful.

I fail to inform him that I just finished watching a BBC documentary titled: "18 Pregnant Schoolgirls".

Instead I text: Change to ice dancing!

ExPage: It's also kinda homoerotic.

Me: The Joy Behar Show is discussing huge vaginas

ExPage: Wide Set Vaginas, If You will

Speaking of wide set vaginas, I make another attempt at watching Temple Grandin, but it's much more entertaining to watch Kell on Hell try to parent for twenty minutes.

Two questions come to mind, though... Why didn't HBO just cast the Flying Tomato and make Temple an autistic snowboarder?

When will Chris Burke get his own movie biopic on Hallmark?

Ice Penises

America gets treated to fourteen days of Bob Costas every two years. With that kind of math, no wonder I forgot to DVR the Opening Ceremonies!
Canadians like regulations. Therefore, I am not expecting as good of a show as Beijing, since they can't get away with paying Chinese people a fistful of fortune cookies for twelve weeks of work.
--We learn that America isn't the only nation that drags out its Indians for big events and forces them to dance around in costume. Canadian Natives also had things like culture and tradition before we told them where to live and made them sell us cheap cigarettes.
-- We learn that people you assume are American, are actually Canadian. Like Donald Sutherland.
--Giant bear pops up. ?
--The only thing that appears to be missing are crying SPCA dogs. I wish they were sitting on Sarah McLachlan's piano.
-- Quebec is the Texas of Canada, meaning, they threaten to secede every three months and generally speaking, are a giant pain in the ass. Therefore, it is only fitting to have a man dressed like a wolf playing the fiddle as their tribute.
--Again, we are reminded that people we thought were American are actually Canadian. Like Joni Mitchell. Singing that song from Love Actually. Where Emma Thompson cries with her gunt.
-- Some skiing thing. Totally didn't know Vancouver was a person.
-- Slam poetry. Are you fucking serious?
--Yes, they are serious, and the guy makes it a point to say Zed. I bet Canadian officials are wishing they smuggled in a thousand Chinese to bang drums for an hour instead of giving this fucking guy health insurance.
-- Bob Costas tells me that eight Canadian legends will be holding the Olympic flag. But where is Jillian from the Bachelorette?
--Donald Sutherland!
--But no Celine Dion. Or Justin Bieber. What kind of legends are these?
-- One minute of silence for luger. Why didn't they have Sarah McLachlan and the SPCA dogs sing "I will remember you" instead?
--Everyone forgets they are sad because Wayne Gretzky shows up. Yay!
-- Something is supposed to happen, because everyone looks awkward.
--Matt Lauer and Bob Costas keep telling us the Canadians have fucked up in some way, but they aren't sure how. But all of this would have been so much better if we got into a time machine and traveled to Beijing in 2008.
--Finally something happens!
--Sean Texts me: Ice Penises
--Me: One ice penis apparently couldn't get it up.
--Sean: It's hard when it's cold
--Me: How Canadian to make everyone equal even though everyone only cares about Wayne Gretzky.
--Wayne gets into the back of a truck. Scott Brown is driving.
-- Sean: Look at these drunk aholes
--Me: When does Johnny Weir get a show @ Don't Tell Mama?

Stolen from Pat

Sorry - I don't know how to link to your blog! Can you teach me?

100 things.

The ones I've done are bolded.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
9. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square (more like RAN thru to get the hell out, every day)
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

Self Control

Does anyone know where I can get some?

Last night, I was planning on going to the gym, doing laundry and cleaning my kitchen. My roommate had been out of town for work all week so I sort of let some dishes pile up. From Sunday. When my roommate was still in town. So that plan was to clean it all before he got home at 10pm.

At 6:21pm my phone rings. My friend Joseph was going to Tonka's bar for drinks. What a dilemma. I really wanted to work out. I had been feeling gross this week. And I needed to do laundry otherwise I'd have to wear mismatching socks the following day. (I am currently in mismatching socks as I write this, so you know where this is headed.) And most importantly, I needed my roommate to not realize that I am a slob when he is out of town.

But I can't say no to happy hour. Tonka's bar has half price drinks until 8. I checked on citi-search to make sure. That sealed the deal.

I arrived at the bar at 7pm, even though I was in the opposite of what I would have liked to wear to a bar: a Gap puffy coat from 2000, an Animal Planet hat and my gym bag. You know, the usual for a young(ish) professional in New York City.

Why can't I say no? Fast forward six hours and at least three "Single Ladies" dance offs later...I was still out. I thought Happy Hour ended at 8pm, not 1am.

If you know where I can find - hell, even BUY- some self control, please let ExPage know. Because I am getting too old to be doing this on a school night. I am, as you know EX page, not Current Page, when this would have not only been appropriate but encouraged.

A Brooklyn Ferry Tale

Every once in a while you have one of those moments. A moment that even when fully immersed you know it's something.

Something amazing.

Something beyond cool.

Something so New York.

This was not one of those moments.

Sure, as I stood on the dock with the Statue of Liberty in the distance, the wind whipping my hair into my face, I imagined myself swiping it away with the graceful ease of a model. Ms. J would be so proud. And Tyra, too. Maybe even Tim Gunn for good measure. He deals with models. Sort of. I mean, he tells the designers to "make it work" so the models aren't naked when they walk down the runway. That totally counts. Right?

But when my arm flew into sky I misjudged the distance between my forehead and nose and poked myself in the eye.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I heard my bag crash to the concrete as I squealed in pain. Awww, the crunch of a home improvement purchase gone wrong.

Why oh why did I go to the Brooklyn Ikea? Again?!

To save a buck or two? Well I hate to break it to you, but the free NJ Transit bus to Elizabeth will get you cheaper state tax rates and more overheard storage. No freakin' ferry can beat that.

But the boat does have music playing. So when you cruise past Governor's Island and the BQE you can rock out to Rihanna. Just don't scream SOS too loud. After all, you are on a boat.

So I grab my mangled 20x30 frame from the ground, scared to examine it. As I peruse the slightly scuffed wood I breathe a sigh of relief. No crack in the glass. Riiiight. No crack in the PLEXIglass. That's what you get for being a total cheapskate.

One ferry ride, one subway ride, one walk, and four flights of steps later I deposit the frame into a corner of my apartment. Where I'm sure it's doomed to sit for a couple weeks. You can't put just anything in plexiglass...