Wednesday, October 31, 2007


That pretty much says it all. Village Halloween Parade tonight. My costume has been completed, and brings joy. Pictures to follow tomorrow. Unless I'm lying again. But no, I take Halloween too seriously.


Thursday, October 25, 2007


Ok, fine… that title doesn’t have anything to do with most of what I’m writing about today. It’s just one of my new favorite phrases. I picked this one up this morning from an email forward I got at work today from some Neo-Aryan crackpot douche. Here is a sample of what his upcoming book/explosion promises:

You’ll learn about why Bill Clinton is actually Gefiltefish in Blackface. Why John McCain will come to be known as Jewface John. And why The Oprah earned the name Mama O. That’s short for Mama Obama because she’s the political birth mother of Obama sin Laden.”

Ok, first off… that paragraph is probably the most coherent part of the entire email. Secondly, and this is very important, neither With Great Blogging Comes Great Responsibility nor its writer/creator/sexy genius Rev endorse any of the opinions put forth by the abovementioned hate-spewing, barely literate ass hat. I really don't want to get a lot of hate mail (or worse, fan mail) over posting that.

That being said, I think Jewface John would be simultaneously the worst and best Dick Tracy villain ever.

Hard-hitting, two-fisted gumshoe? Yes. Wildly anti-semitic? I certainly hope not.

But enough of that and onto real blogging issues. Like what I did this past weekend, and how much I’m looking forward


Jack Skellington is one of my personal heroes, and not just because he's pale.

Anyway, this past weekend Oach (Once And Current Housemate) had a visit from our other former housemate. I'll call him FH, for simplicity's sake. Collectively, we're known as -2, and also Team Azerbaijan. This isn't important information, but it helps to explain the previous post.

There we are.

Also along for the ride were FH's two brothers. They got into town on Friday, and since I had to work, Oach showed them around a bit. I got back to the apartment just in time to play the card game asshole for an hour or two.

The dress code was strictly enforced. We're not a cult, but I am thinking of starting one. Interested? Submit your headshots and resumes and souls.

Then it was time to hit the town. We headed out to a get together orchestrated by our good friend Mr. Morchison.

Subway transfer pandemonium!

Morchison et al.

So basically, that night was an absolute blast. It was so fun that FH's personal gravity was completely skewed:

Don't worry, he got better.

By comparison, Saturday night was a complete wash. Highlights include: an unfortunate encounter with dog poop, pretentious bouncers at a club completely in love with itself, me assuming the identity of Russian exchange student Mikhail Horvac, nasty fat trannies and their entourage, one tranny physically assaulting FH in the name of "Dance with me," and wandering around Times Square at 3:30 AM. Some good stories in there that I might share later.

But second topic: How much am I looking forward to Halloween?


Favorite Holiday by far. I'm going to the village parade this year, but I'm not going to tell you my costume quite yet. Suffice to say, it's very near completion, and it is good. Sometimes I envy the simplicity of Halloween costumes for girls, the formula of

(Slutty) + (Noun) = Costume

But mostly I resent the lack of imagination. There are exceptions, like a slutty washing machine. That's one I'd like to see. The worst are: Angels, Devils and Cats. Ladies, if you're planning on being any of those three, I beg you to reconsider.

Anyone else going to the parade? I hear it's pretty awesome.

Anyway, I should go at least pretend to work. Catch you crazy kids later


Thursday, October 18, 2007

Autumn is the best season (part 2)

So apparently in Rev's mind Thursday night is the day after Sunday. If that were true, the world would be a happier place, as we would be able to dodge a lot of terrible television. Now if we could just get ER off the air, and have everyone even remotely connected to Ugly Betty burned at the stake, we'd be in business.

But when I last rudely abandoned you, dear readers, I was talking about the Harvest Festival. It was sponsored by Hippies. I'm not exactly sure what kind, but I think they had some big compost kick going on, I didn't pay too much attention. It was a fun time, but these particular hippies greatly underestimated the appeal of beer and apples and various grilled foods.

As evidence of their Biodynamic lack of foresight, the hippies had one bar complete with one bartender. Riddikulus. For our first drink, Oach and I stood in line for about 10 minutes. By the time we were ready for a second drink, we were forced to choose between getting back in line, or getting home before Tuesday. Observe:

The bar is in on the far left, with the beginning of the line. Note the distinct lack of people near the Compost Project table.

The line continues past a community juice truck and Gomer Pyle.

It then stretches into forever, past brick buildings and tables of bored hipsters. At least I think they're bored. Maybe they're just being ironic. Goddamn Hipsters.

Anyway, despite the sinful wait for the very basic of outdoor party necessities, there was a lot of cool stuff going on, too.

Pumpkin Carving!!!

Pony Rides!!!

Dogfighting!!! Oh, wait... that's terrible.

Yeah, there was a Weimaraner that ran afoul of some pit bull mix and they decided to engage in combat to the death for the honor of their respective masters. The masters, on the other hand, largely ignored this and had a pleasant conversation about the weather.

I can forgive the hippies for the long lines, since this is the first year of their harvest festival. My advice for next year: replace your informative compost table with several kegs and people to operate them. I would also switch it to Saturday, because evidently this shindig continued into the night, with a campfire and stuff. I had to go back to Queens to sleep in order to work the next day. Lame. I'll definitely want to go back to see what lessons they've learned.

Ok, that's all for now, another short post, I know. But I have company visiting this weekend, another former housemate from school. I'll be playing tour guide and will hopefully get several fun pictures to report back. Until then, you can quake in fear of the impending -2 reunion.

Don't worry, not everything has to make sense.



PS - Mission information has been posted over at Improv Everywhere. Go check out the hilarity. I'm actually in the first video under the 'No Shirts' label. Give it a look and see if you can spot me being inappropriately touched by an Abercrombie & Fitch employee.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Autumn is the best season (part 1)

Before we begin, I have to tell you something. I have been wearing brand new socks for the past three days, and it's the greatest thing I've ever done. If (when) I become a millionaire, I will never wear the same pair of socks twice. That will be my curious eccentricity. As for all the pairs of socks that I will have to discard, I'll probably donate them to charity, or send them to China to be used as 'employee of the month' prizes in their sweatshops.

I'm a nice guy like that.

Anyway, this weekend I did some activities that were pretty fun. On Saturday I participated in an Improv Everywhere stunt. I'll get into more detail with that once they have the mission info and photos posted on their website, as I was unable to take pictures of my own.

Secondly, today Oach and I went to the Gowanus Harvest Festival in Brooklyn. It was quite the good time. It took place in a place called "The Yard," located on the Gowanus Canal. It looks mostly like this:

The Gowanus Canal looks mostly like this:

I took those two pictures from this bridge:

and finally, this bridge had this sign posted on it:

I wish all those prostitution laws were this lenient and vague.

Ugh... I'm already tired, so I'm gonna have to finish this tomorrow. Sorry about the tease, folks.


Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Disappointment and moving on...

So on Sunday, Oach and I were looking for something to do. You know, just to wander around, blow the stink off, and reacquaint ourselves with what sunlight feels like (awful).

To get ideas, I look to the ultimate guide for blatant lies, naked celebrities and all around horribleness, the Webernet.

I originally wrote that to try and coin a fancy internet joke-term, but the more I think about it, the more I really want a giant system of computers and information databases dedicated solely to Steven Weber.

But seriously, who wouldn't?

Back to the narrative. I decided to celebrate Oktoberfest, by going to a supposedly Oktoberfest activity. Evidently, Lexington Ave was closed to traffic from 42nd street to 57th street. One place said there would be vendors, and food, and entertainment and such. I thought it would be like the Steuben Day Parade, which was awesome.

Oach and I approached Lexington and 57th. It seemed ok so far.

particularly the one in green.

It was the usual terrible street vendor garbage booths, with counterfeit lemonade and watered-down scarves and pashmina purses. Pretty much what I expected the outskirts of an urban festival to be like. So what was the problem? THAT WAS THE WHOLE THING. The "Oktoberfest" activity was a 15 block tour of excrement. It turned Lexington into
Canal Street, in a bad way, you know... with fewer shady "massage" parlors.

Disgusted by our waste of time, Oach and I were prepared to call it a day and just go home. We decided not to, however, and I went to go see if the library was open. I didn't have a whole lot of hope because it was Sunday, but whateva, it's better than giving up and getting on the Subway all bummed out and pissed.

And it was the right decision. We headed a few blocks West and almost literally stumbled upon this:

Oh yes.

A freakin' parade! Score. It was the 70th annual Pulaski Parade here in NYC. A parade AND and excuse for Polack jokes?? Heaven.

By the by, this parade was named after Kazimierz PuĊ‚aski. Read up on him if you don't immediately recognize the name. Also, you sicken me.

So there we were, surrounded by thousands of Polish Americans. Oach and I knew what that meant. We would have to speak very slowly. I kid, I kid... Anyway, we apparently got there too late for the Stanley Kowalski float, and so were left to view the other contributions to society made by Polish people. For example:

- The Submarine Screen Door

- The Solar Powered Flashlight

- The Waterproof Towel

- The Circular Firing Squad

- The Famous WWII Kamikaze pilot, who flew 48 successful missions

- The man who walked across the desert carrying a car door, so if he got hot he could roll down the window.

And so forth.

Of course, being respectful young men, Oach and I observed a moment of silence for those killed when a two-seater plane crashed into a graveyard. Rescue workers retrieved nearly 600 bodies.

And also for the Polish family who froze to death while waiting to see the movie 'Closed for Winter.'

Oh Man, I've got waaaay more, too.

Fine, here are some pictures:

They weren't playing polka. Why was that the first thing you thought of?

This man was my favorite.

Hooray for American patriotism and silly traditional dress in the same photo!

The delegation from the Wellington Medical Group was hammered the entire time (note the coolers).

A highlight of the parade was a ballroom dancing group who erupted into dance in the middle of the parade. It was very impressive, and they were all very good dancers. There was one young man who seemed to be really into it, however. I like to think of him as a miniature Jonathan B. Wright. Observe.

So all in all, it was a fantastically salvaged day. Poles to the rescue, I guess. What a bizarre phrase.

Anyway, the day was capped by a lunch/dinner at The Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. My meal:

It was delicious, but as far as the lines and the prices go, I'll take Voss' any day of the week.


Also - Happy Birthday to my brother Lt. Rev, who occasionally graces this blog with his presence in comment form.

I'm done for now... sleep awaits


Friday, October 5, 2007

Why my brain feels like Oatmeal today.

Just so we're clear on the title:



Thankfully, I'm currently at my current place of work. Both people who serve in a supervisory capacity are not here, nor shall they be for the rest of the day. That means I have a good bunch of hours of staring at the wall, giving the 'Random Article' button of wikipedia a thorough workout, and (most importantly) updating you lovely people on what's happening.

Anyway, I live in Astoria, which is relatively close to LaGuardia Airport. Relatively by means of car transport, I mean. I wouldn't want to walk or swim there. See for yourself:

See? Really close.

Getting nearer my point, a friend of mine (whose name will be withheld to protect him) was/is taking advantage of this three day weekend to travel to a different state (whose name will be withheld to protect it) to take advantage of someone else (whose name will be withheld because I don't know it).

Follow that? Moving on.

Rather than entrust his vehicle to expensive long term parking and uknown nastiness, he asked his trustworthy pal Rev if he could drive to Astoria, leave said vehicle near my apartment, crash briefly on the couch for the night, and head out in the wee hours of morning to catch his flight, scheduled to depart at 5:50 AM. That's right, they make a 5:50 in the AM, too. It's true, I had to look it up. In military time, it's actually the only one, and the only 5:50 that I'm familiar with is called 17:50. We live in a crazy world.

Being a good guy, I said "sure." Though I did assure him that by "I will keep an eye on the vehicle" I meant "I won't personally destroy the vehicle" I could not in good faith make any promises about my neighbors, acts of God, or even Oach.

So it was agreed, and he came over last night. Like good Americans, we watched 30 Rock and The Office, then turned the TV off in disgust before ER could come on. Then it was time for bed, alarms were set, and I settled down to get my beauty sleep.

A sleep that was slightly interrupted by the sound of the doors opening as my guest left. That's fine, I was expecting it. I glanced at the clock. something didn't seem right. Indeed it wasn't, as the clock was displaying a time of 5:04 AM.

An alarm had apparently failed to live up to its name, and by doing so, caused much alarm indeed.

"If that was him leaving just now," thought I "then my phone is going to ring really soon."

Apparently, even tired and groggy, I am always right.

I don't remember the conversation, but it didn't last long, and there was some mention of "screwed" or "boned," I'm sure. And so, rolling out of bed, I found some pants and car keys and wallets and headed downstairs.

So off we drove, into the wee morning hours at approximately 5:15, trying to get this fella onto a plane scheduled to depart in a ridiculously brief amount of time. I'll take this time to mention that I have never driven to LaGuardia before, and also that I believe I was still in either sleep stage 1 or 2. Driving by Spider-sense, mostly.

(Mom, I'm exaggerating for comic effect, I was completely alert, safe, and wearing my seatbelt)

Thanks to the fact that it was early enough so that the commuters were just waking up and the vampires were just going to sleep, traffic was really light. We pulled up to the terminal at approximately 5:39 AM, according to the clock in my Sweet 'Bu (the pet name for my 98 chevy malibu).

That clock is also 7-8 minutes fast. I slowed to around 30 miles an hour, disengaged the child safety locks and allowed my passenger to dive and roll toward the gate, before the very rude taxi drivers forced me to continue on.

So it was not until I was back in my apartment that I got the text message.

And don't you know... the sonofabitch actually made the flight.

And that, my friends is why my brain feels like Oatmeal today.


PS - Anyone up for the Beer Garden tonight? Or someplace else... it is Oktoberfest.