Tuesday, November 18, 2008

This morning, both my head and my soul hurt.

I've been a Giants fan for a long time. I'm not a religious sort of football fan, mind you. I can tell you far more about the minutiae of the Marvel Universe than I can the stats and rosters of my team of choice.


The shield is made of a vibranium/adamantium alloy. That's why it's indestructible. Who's that other guy?

Just kidding. That's Phil Simms. But still, I was raised watching and cheering for the Giants, even when they sucked. Actually, that's most of the time, but man, am I happy now.


Beautiful.

Even so, there was a time when I watched and rooted for another team.

Oach has made it very clear that he doesn't want me to use this team's name in this post, as it is painful to him. I'll honor his request, and leave it to your brilliant detective skills, dear reader, to figure out.

The period of time I referred to before that last aside was during my undergrad years. (CLUE) I went to college 20 minutes south of Rochester, NY. For three out of four years I lived with Oach, who is from Rochester. Two out of four years we lived with two other gentlemen who hailed from western New York. And so when Sundays in football season rolled around, it was not the Giants who were regularly televised. It was this other team. And I had a good time. We cheered and laughed and cried and swore. We went to two games at (CLUE) Ralph Wilson Stadium in the middle of December, and froze our way through the tailgating drunk we had built up.

So when I learned that this team would be playing the Monday Night Football game, and that there was a bar in Manhattan that catered to fans of this team, and that Oach and Eddie McG would be there, I decided I should be involved for old times' sake. The bar is McFadden's. Outside, it looks like this:



Inside, it looked more like this:



Again, I'm not allowed to name the team.

There was a special going during the game. Twenty dollars gets you a bracelet and unlimited beer and (CLUE) a certain type of Chicken Wing of which I am incredibly fond.


Hint: they're named after a city.

Every ten minutes or so, these pans would be replenished. For the record, they are the best wings I have yet found in New York City. A little heavy on the butter, perhaps, but that didn't stop me from eating at least twenty dollars worth. A better deal I've yet to find. And you know you're dealing with a serious establishment when they feel it necessary to have on hand a bucket of Blue Cheese.


Whatever you do, do not picture yourself chugging this Blue Cheese.

The beer was low quality, but plentiful, and the bar staff quick to respond to orders with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of plastic cups.



Speaking of cups, the bar staff was also nice enough to dance on the Bar during halftime:


At least I'm pretty sure she was part of the staff.

It was also noteworthy for the film crew from the NFL network who were getting some footage for an upcoming show. Here's the host that they had, waiting patiently for a take.


Neat!

So good food, plentiful drink, disreputable associates, sounds like the beginning of a fantastic evening, right? If you believe that, then clearly you haven't yet figured out which team I'm talking about.

I have to admire the resilience of these fans. They take beating after beating and come back for more. They're like Timex watches, or Rocky, or the French.



Hmmm... Rocky vs a Mime. I would pay to see that.

But Damn, I had forgotten how painful it is to root for these bastards. They don't lose the easy way. They might have the decency to get blown out early, and take some of the suspense off, so fans can grumble and make sarcastic remarks but then enjoy the beer and wings. But no, they have to play just well enough to stay in contention the entire time and blow it all at the last second.


Here we see Oach, with optimism and hope in his heart. He's willing to dream. Hours after this picture was taken, he was reduced to a profane, miserable shell of a human being. It's a cruel, twisted joke that his team plays on him every week.

To get a good sense of what it feels like to try and root for this team, watch this video that I found on youtube. I feel it adequately sums up the experience.



yup, that's it.


Rev

Friday, November 7, 2008

WARNING - EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

So alive, this town. What follows is what I experienced today on my morning commute.



I saw this happen. Was actually the next seat over, just trying to stare straight ahead.

Some dialogue has been approximated, some repetition has been cut down, particularly on the swears, but what remains is a largely accurate retelling of the events.

The scene: Manhattan bound W Train, perpendicular seat, crowded, morning rush hour commuters, dialogue begins at Queensboro Plaza

Woman: had a voice halfway between Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors and Minnie Mouse - window seat

Dude: Average late 20's douche with a baseball cap to hide his baldingness - seated directly next to woman, reading magazine



W: Excuse me, could you move your elbow?

W: Excuse me, I'm three months pregnant, could you stop digging your elbow into me?

M: I'm not - your bag is all over the place, pushing into my arm

W: I'm three months pregnant, show some consideration and move your fuckin arm

M: your purse is diggin into me, bitch

W: If you can't sit in a seat then don't use one, you goddamn animal.

M: Keep it to yourself, you crazy bitch.

W: I'M THREE MONTHS PREGNANT, you need to learn how to treat women you fuckin animal.

M: You nasty cunt

W: Oh yeah, I'm nasty, you're nasty, you piece of shit. Can't even have a quiet ride to work

M: Fuckin Queen of the Subway here

W: Fuck you, talk to yourself


(ten minutes of silence, the train gets to 29th street, the woman moves to get off)

W: STOP TRIPPING ME, Asshole

(man makes to move his bag, probably to further trip her - she rears bag, imitation D&G bag hurtles through the air onto his head)

W: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! You gotta learn to treat a woman you Fuckin' Animal. FUCKIN' ANIMAL!

(She gets off the train, several seconds later, three loud thuds are heard as she once again swings her purse/weapon, this time against the window of the subway car)

W: -muffled, from outside the car- FUCKIN ANIMAL! (thud)

(The guy looks around trying to make eye contact with someone for sympathy, or a "what was that about?" moment. He fails.)

Remainder of the ride was uneventful.


Public transportation is entertaining.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Halloween 2008

Man, I love Halloween. Everything about it is pretty fantastic, and has been since it began. Harvest celebrations and scaring away evil spirits and talking to dead folks and dressing up in silly costumes have always been near and dear to my heart.

For the second year in a row, Oach and I participated in the Greenwich Village Halloween Parade. Last year we went as Marty McFly and Doc Brown. You can read all about it here and here.

This year we continued to be really awesome with our costuming genius, and here it is, the Rev/Oach Halloween Costume 2008:


Calvin & Hobbes.

Special thanks to Bill Watterson, the creator of the fantastic strip for the hours of joy it has brought me, and also for not being a media whore and licensing his characters so that the market is inundated with C&H tshirts and posters and such.

Also, no, I did not walk the parade like that, unfortunately. The shoes on knees shot was taken for dramatic effect, but I was full height (such as it is) for the actual outdoors part.

This year we did not walk alone, but were accompanied by these unsavory characters:


That's Subastar on the left and Woot! on the right.

I like hanging out with them because it makes me feel tall. But anyway, Woot! went as a Mad Scientist, complete with homemade death ray gun that she refused to point at police officers, no matter how much I encouraged her to. At one point, I offered as much as three dollars. She's a tough nut to crack, that one.

Subastar is, of course, a Queen Spelling Bee. This being her first Halloween, Woot! and I helped with her costume and the one rule that Subastar volunteered was "I want a crown and wings." What would you have done?

Enough about us, let's see some parade costumes.

This guy we met at the line-up to begin walking. Good use of makeup, particularly with the small bits of glass sticking out of his face:



A passable "couple" costume:



These folks were walking behind us at the beginning, and only drew my attention when three spectator girls started screaming at them. "Yo! Why you ate her grandma??!!! WOLF! WHY YOU ATE HER GRANDMA???!!!!!"

I blame the schools.

Hey, anyone who's up for some terrifying androgyny, raise your golden hand:




Speaking of androgyny, here's Nintendo's favorite elfin hero, Link:


The Legend of Zelda rules.



"Hey look honey! I found a pack of Trojans in the road!"

Continuing on a the geographic theme, I guess:


A goddess and two minotaurs? It's all Greek to me!

Boo yah! Oh come on, that was funny (and hot).

Why so Serious?


Oh wait, I remember. It's because you're an uncreative doucheface who couldn't take time away from his busy schedule of anime and sodomy to come up with an original concept.

I know that by this point it's cliche to talk about how common the Heath Ledger Joker costume was, but I just gots to. In my opinion, there are two trains of thought that you could follow:

1) "I know! I'll be the Joker from The Dark Knight! No one's going to wear that costume! This is gonna be awesome!

or

2) "There are going to be a lot of people dressed exactly the same way that I am, but I am totally going to be more Joker than all of them. They're going to be all 'whoa man, your Joker costume is way better than ours!'" This is gonna be awesome!

Both of these thoughts are fundamentally flawed and just plain wrong. Ok, there are several more reasons to be the Heath Ledger Joker. Finally having an excuse to wear makeup and dress up like a nurse, for example. Or the desire to wear a costume that's so lame that you might as well have not dressed up at all, but that still requires a lot of prep time, cleanup and skin problems for the next week.

And Bravo honoring the character, PS. Because we all know if there's anything the Joker loves it's conformity and being predictable. An awesome costume? 1960's Cesar Romero Joker.


You scum know nothing of Halloween.

As you may have heard, about half of the funders of the parade dropped out this year, and that may have reduced the number and quality of floats. But the more things change, the more they remain the same. There was still the float bearing Witches in Bikinis, the most aptly named costume band I've ever seen.


I'll let you write your own photo caption about this seaman.

Ok, this post is running a bit long, so just a few more neat costumes:

Inspector Gadget & Penny:


Oh man! A computer that's the size of a book! God I hope I live long enough to see that happen...

A pizza pie made of individual slices:


hooray for group costumes and Witches in Bikinis in the background!

And here's one for you theater buffs:


A horse from Equus.

Evidently having Daniel Radcliffe ride naked on your back makes you very popular with the ladies.

I'm fairly certain the costs outweigh the benefits on that...




For the rest of my photos from before and during the parade, check out my photobucket page
HERE.

Happy Halloween everyone,

Rev