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...or could it have been WHAT you asked me... ...maybe it's WHEN you asked me... all i know is that YOU'RE ON FUCKIN' CRACK... |
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May 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 August 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 February 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 October 2006 September 2010 December 2011 |
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Monday, June 26, 2006 |
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Potty Humor | |
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This is borderline work inappropriate: Click here |
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Friday, June 23, 2006 |
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Why NOT to be in Harlem at 1am | |
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As a preview of the perils that await me for the next 10 days, I got a sample of subway life after midnight in Harlem. Walking up to the Cathedral Station stop on the corner of CPW and 110th, I noticed all manner of unsavory types lurking around in the shadows. Descending the stairs into the well lit station I felt a bit relieved to see an MTA employee in the booth... behind 1 inch thick (presumably bullet proof) plexiglass. Swiping through the turnstile I descended down another flight of stairs onto the eerily quiet platform. Even the rats and mice seemed afraid of this station -- tracks are usually teaming with them by this time of night. The warm stench of urine and urban grime permeated the air and there were a few homeless men indulging in their favorite brown bag beverage. No sooner had I taken a seat on the worn wooden bench when a disorderly fellow, strung out on something, came stumbling down the stairs yelling obscenities into the air. Despite the nearly empty station he sits down right next to me and continues to spit out the curse laden gibberish until suddenly the station falls silent again. Out of the corner of my eye I see a glass device emerge from his shirt pocket along with a lighter. This guy was LITERALLY smoking crack! I wish I had the balls to photograph this guy because he would have made the perfect posterboy for this blog taking a fat hit off his crack pipe. Just as he exhaled a massive cloud of almost blue smoke my train came speeding into the station, the blast of warm wind blowing the cloud right into my face. I had to admit I was curious for a split second but thought better of it, held my breath, and headed for the train. Upon boarding there was a rabble of gay ass gangstas. Not the white boy in suburbia driving daddy's escalade and wearing pants around his ankles kind of gay. These Gs were actually flaming gay. You know, the lanky kind wearing bright form fitting clothes, when you're not quite sure which ones are guys and which ones are girls with their lady bits taped up. They talked like thugs (though 1 octave too high and with a slight lisp), had the requisite bling, and even the token guy with a 'fro, but this crew was most certainly not gang bangin... at least not in the traditional sense. |
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Thursday, June 22, 2006 |
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Ever wonder why Japanese people are so up-tight? | |
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They don't get laid enough. In a recent survey, Japan came in last out of 41 nations in terms of the number of time a year they get it on. In the land of the rising sun, the average number of sexual encounters numbered just 45 per year vs the global average of 103 times per year. You know it's bad when the government has to PAY their citizens a subsidy to get them making babies. I propose we help our rice eating eastern bretheren out in getting their average up. Grab the nearest friendly Japanese you can get your hands on and take them to bed. Sexless in Tokyo |
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Monday, June 19, 2006 |
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Trailer food, the new fusion? | |
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So I'm on the train this morning wearing a black winter suit (because I'm a jackass and didn't get the "memo" about it being in the 90's today) literally melting into my suit when something someone said from across the aisle jolted me from my heat induced stupor. A little girl was pointing to an ad behind me and asking her mom "What is that?". I'd noticed the ad for the American Peanut Grower's Council when I walked on the train, and it was a giant poster with a photo of a slice of sandwich bread with peanut butter slathered on it and 5 slices of banana neatly arranged on top. The slogan said "It was good enough for the King of Rock and Roll, it should be good enough for you." Okay, so it's not the most catchy writing in the world, but the photo had me craving one something fierce. Upon the child's inquiry the mother looked at the ad for a moment, turned to her daughter, and confidently stated: "It's sushi". While I sat there slack jawed (I thought for a moment that the woman was referring to me, because no one, NO ONE in their right mind could possibly mistake a peanut butter and banana sandwich for sushi), the daughter followed up with: "What's sushi?". To which the mother answered "It's Chinese food... you wouldn't like it". Okay, I admit, I made the last half of that sentence up, but it was implied. I wasn't even so much offended that this woman didn't know what sushi was, after all there are only 463 sushi restaurants in New York. What really got my goat is that this poor girl was going to grow up thinking peanut butter and banana sandwiches are the devil's food. I mean who could not love that rich creamy peanut butter meld with the lightly sweet satiny banana all wrapped up in air rich Wonderbread goodness? Ohh the travesty! |
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Sunday, June 04, 2006 |
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Even guinea pigs get more action. Lucky Bastard |
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