Thursday, February 28, 2008

I Feel Violated

Ok, a lot to talk about today. I have halfassed this thing for two weeks now, so I think I owe you folks a real post. First up, I'll discuss what happened to me on the subway today. I was accosted by a homelessman.

And not just a stranger, doo-wop singing, fake charity subway homelessman. This is a homelessman that haunts the Ditmars station on the NW line.



He is usually located by the Eastern exit stairs. From what I've seen of him at the station, he has two basic moves that have cemented his success at being a homelessman. First is the 'stand completely still and stare at the backs of your outstretched hands.' This one is presumably a resting technique thought up to counterbalance the more impressive and energy-consumptive 'rock back and forth whilst shaking your hands in front of you and muttering indeterminate tones.'

I guess I'm saying he's probably not all there.

Anyway, I had an outside-of-station experience with him about a month or so ago, when I was in the supermarket. I do sometimes go there, oddly. Anyway, I was perusing the canned goods when I became aware of A) an object in the very extremes of my periphery, B) an atypical-for-a-supermarket odor and 3) my Spidey-sense buzzing. I turned to find our friend standing silently, staring at me. Full eye contact sort of staring. I assumed that whatever conversation was going to happen would most likely have to be initiated by yours truly.

"Can I help you?" I asked, using my vocal inflectionary talents to transform the words from their literal meaning into "Go cram yourself up yourself."

He seemed to understand my drift, and responded by averting his gaze to the ground, shaking his head and scurrying off. I stood for a few seconds in his fetid air wake, wondering just who in the past had rewarded him for such behavior. I shrugged the event off, pushed it back in my memory and continued shopping.

Flash forward to today, this morning.

I was commuting, cruising down the tracks on a crowded W train. As is the advantage of being the first station, I had gotten a seat and was traveling comfortably in my "train position." Backpack between my legs with my hands intertwined through the top loop, head back, eyes closed, drifting through stage one sleep.

Anyway, things are going fine, the train is crowded, but hey, it's commuting. Then I feel pressure on my knees. I became aware of 1) my dreaming had abruptly halted 2) the train is below 42nd street, so it shouldn't be crowded enough to force such contact and C) my Spidey-sense buzzing.

I crack my eyes to see a pair of legs topped by a filthy Yankees jacket TOUCHING MY KNEES WITH THEIR KNEES.

This is not done. Neurons fired, identification was made and the gag reflex was suppressed. I swiveled my eyes upwards into one of my better glares. Here's my attempt to artistically recreate it for you using Microsoft Paint:


that's about right.

Remembering him run after our last encounter, I repeated my opening gambit.

"Can I help you?"

Maintaining the eye and knee contact, he shook his head. "Wily bastard," thought I. He'd clearly been training. Fine, I've got some tricks of my own.

"Please don't touch me." This I delivered with the cold verbal rage of a captive Charlton Heston.



This did it. He again shuffled away, defeated. I had proven victorious, but at the price of a subway nap. Also, I was forced to use a line that would be completely at home in every Lifetime Original Movie ever made. Perhaps the most unsettling aspect was that he had learned. The second encounter took twice as long as the first. I must now dwell in constant fear of the third.

(and scene)

I've other business to get to as well. More pictures of Alissa Rev at the bottom of the post, but first:


Congratulations to J&J, the latest winners in the "Spend a Night in Rev's Apartment" lottery. Those interested in playing should contact me via the comment board or my cell or find one of my various email addresses.

J&J were spending some time in NYC before catching a plane to San Francisco. We went to brunch at Fatty's Cafe. It was delicious. Oh yes, they are also the adoptive parents of Maya, who has been featured here before and will be again:



While they were here, they saw Spring Awakening, featuring the lovely Phoebe Strole and that bastard Jonathan B Wright. J's sister was good enough to unwillingly pose for a picture in the same frame as a cast member, if not near him:


The level of joy was immeasurable.

And finally, as promised:


Alissa Rev, with powerful tiny fist.



I just noticed that the legs of the chair in the corner look like a '4' and that Alissa is doing an impression of Michael Chiklis. Another Marvel Comics fan, perhaps?



Lt. Rev and Alissa Rev


Peace out folks,

Rev

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

ANNOUNCEMENT




I have an update in the works about this fantastic President's Day weekend, so hold your horses. But in the meantime there's something much more important to tell you. Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my privilege and honor to introduce you to the continued hope for human evolution, the latest individual in a long line of awesome, and the brand-newest member of team Rev, my niece:


Alissa Marie Rev.


Gaze upon the future and tremble.

Well done, Lt. Rev and Mrs. Lt. Rev. Well done, indeed.



Pumped about being an Uncle,

Rev

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I am INVINCIBLE

And by 'vincible' I mean 'sured.'

Many of you may not know this but as of today I have closed the book on a harrowing odyssey that has lasted nearly thirteen months. I lived in New York City and had no health insurance. That, combined with my reckless sense of adventure and masochistic tendencies, was a fabulous recipe for disaster. Thankfully, I don't cook that well. But now that zone of potential financial ruin is behind me. I have a little card with my name on it in my wallet that I like to think of as my "danger license." Now if I do something really stupid and end up smashing against an object at high speed (a car, a wall, the Earth etc.) I may become injured, but at least I won't become injured AND poor.

I know I may be tempting fate by writing all of this, but that's fine. It's been several weeks since I last tempted something and these skills must be practiced or lost. But really, this is good news. You can look forward to many (physically) healthy months of continuing updates, and I can finally afford to be a hypochondriac, and worry about getting things like bird flu, or West Nile Virus, or a Cesarean Section, whatever that is.

Time for a subject change. So what did you do this weekend?

I went to an event in Central Park called the Central Park Winter Jam '08. It was centered around the band shell in the park, where clever use of a ramp and a snow machine had created a little hill. I showed up a little too late to see the "rail jamming," wherein snowboarders used this ramp to pick up speed and then grind across a rail that was also set up. But I did get there to see when they had opened up the ramp for children to ride inner tubes down it. I even took some video:



The best way I can describe this is an unfunny mockery of the sacred institution of sledding. To see if you have ever truly sledded successfully, try this checklist:


[] I have either broken or convinced myself I've broken a bone while sledding

[] People have expressed doubts over my having survived a sledding run before I could be seen to move of my own volition.

[] I have sledded using improvised devices. That is, something not advertised for sledding purposes. Examples include dining hall lunch trays, shovels, shopping carts, et cetera.

[] I have trespassed in order to sled.


If you are unable to check off at least two of the above, then we need to hang out more.

It seemed kind of mean to give these kids such a small taste of winter fun, and even meaner to make them wait in a very long line to taste it. Speaking of taste, in a tent just off of the main runway was a New York State agricultural exhibition sort of thing. They gave out free samples of fresh milk, apples, cider and maple sugar candy. That's right. FREE MAPLE SUGAR CANDY. The brown stuff. Adirondack Heroin. Here's my score:



Most of the children in front of me had never heard of this wonder. "What is it?" they asked.

"Poison," I said, "now get out of the way."

Other than the sledding and food tent, which suggested a more appropriate title of "Realize How Horrible Your Childhood is '08," There were a few other noteworthy goings on. There was an ice climbing wall that kids could scramble up:



There was a "Kids Zone" tent sponsored by Crocs that I didn't enter:



I assume people are lined up for the Virtual Reality Escalator Adventure! feature.

They also had tents teaching important skills:


Like how to start a fire without matches.

And


how to shoot people.

What kind of people?


Food Cart workers and people on cell phones (click for larger image).

So I suppose the event did serve a greater purpose after all.

They also had a booth sponsored by 17 Magazine, but they told me I had to stop hanging around there and wouldn't let me take any pictures.

All right, that's enough for now. I'll catch you kids later

Rev

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The Greatest Superbowl in 17 Years.



For all of you who watched the Superbowl on Sunday (read: not communists), how amazing was that? Very amazing, I'd say. I had one bottle of pepsi, too many Cheetos and three heart attacks. It was fantastic. There's a whole lot of jokes going around out there about 18-1, including t-shirts for sale, so I'm going to try to avoid all that.

But I am going to be honest. As much as I enjoyed the Giants winning (a lot), the victory was made all the sweeter by being able to destroy something that New England loved. It's like Godzilla smashing Tokyo, and along the way stepping on those creepy unison-speaking tiny twin girls that Mothra likes so much.


(Hint: In this metaphor, New England, you are Mothra)

Of course, by "New England" I mean "Boston." I've never really gotten comfortable with the fact that the Patriots hail from an entire region of the country. Both they and the Panthers really need to make up their minds. I mean seriously, New York (state) has three teams, and only one of them plays in said state, but at least they've picked a spot. There are no "tri-state area Jets" and no "New York Harbor-esque Giants." Adding to this is the fact that no one wants to be associated with New Jersey any more than they absolutely have to be.

Except Bon Jovi. But he's got a niche market to take care of.


people in bars in New Jersey.

Anyway, in honor of this freakin' awesome fantasmaludicrous victory, I have decided to direct my first full-length motion picture. The title?

Little Giants 2: Regular Giants.

The parallels are eerie. A huge underdog team was pitted against a more skilled, better-trained and, therefore, evil team. The evil teams had the same color scheme (Pee Wee Cowboys, NE Patriots). And, at both the beginning of the movie and the beginning of the Giant's season, their quarterback was a pre-teen girl just about to bloom into a young lady. Fortunately for all involved, Eli Manning bloomed into ELI F***ING MANNING, and the girl from Little Giants bloomed into a stone-cold fox.


Endzone, Two-hand touch, Blitz, there's no shortage of football punchlines to be used.

Basically, I'm pretty sure that if we look at this NFL season close enough, Rick Moranis played a highly inspirational role.

In preparation for this film I've started to do some casting.

ELI F***ING MANNING will be played by John Krasinski.




The often amazing Plaxico Burress will be played by the always amazing Taye Diggs




We'll have to use some special effects to make the 5'10" Diggs convincingly portray the 6'5" Burress, but since I'll have a limited budget, those special effects will probably look a lot like standing on a small box.

Irascible Head Coach Tom Coughlin will be played by the co-founder of contemporary Cool, Paul Newman.




Tom Brady... I don't know... maybe we could get Jack from Lost.




And the defensive line of the Giants will be played by a Grizzly Bear holding a flame thrower riding a Tyrannosaurus with rocket launchers strapped to its sides, all on top of a bulldozer made of human skeletons:

Damn... wish I could've found a picture of that one.

Suffice it to say, this will be the best movie ever and make amounts of money that haven't even been invented yet. (5.7 Saskatoolian dollars).

Check your local listings,

Rev