Walking and Chewing Gum

I've got that combination down, but it's really hard to work while singing along with the "Today's Country" channel on my cable's Music Choice thingy.

Also still trying to nail the patting head/rubbing belly thing.

I'll try to post over the weekend or Mon/Tues, but Tues evening the LiAps World Tour 2004 starts. First leg is realtively short, but I might not have a whole lot of time to post anything in the next, well, month. I'll at least try to remember all the people who deserve beatdowns.

Everybody let me know what kind of souvenirs they want from London, Bermuda, Vegas, Honolulu and San Francisco.

One Of My All-Time Favorite Digital Photos.



Taken during the huge snowstorm over Presidents' Day Weekend 2003.  Garrett County, Maryland.  It was reported at the time that it was the county with the most snowfall that weekend.  I was with a bunch of people who rented a house for a skiing weekend.  We skied one day and then got snowed in to the house.  That's right - there was too much snow for us to ski.

That seems like forever ago.

 

 

Summer Reading

Inspired by a post at MandyLand, I thought I'd suggest a book I just finished.  Well, not just this minute.  Actually, sitting on the toilet before I left for work this morning.  Guess I can't return it to Brentano's.
It's called "Chump Change" by Dan Fante.  A really good character study of an alcoholic loser who gets released from rehab just in time to go to his father's funeral in LA (a place I'd have to be dead to be seen in ever again - I HATE LA).  Some disturbing imagery, sexual and related to the alcoholic character.  But it really kept me turning pages.  And I spend more time than the average person sitting on the toilet as it is.
I had never heard of the book or the author; picked it up off the really, really cheap books rack at Barnes & Noble - $3.98.  Somebody must have decided it wasn't worthy of the space it took up on the shelf.  I do believe that guy hit the screw on the head.  Word.

Copyright LiAps, 2004

Hear Ye, Hear Ye.  I have just coined a new phrase.  Ready?  "Yeah, you really hit the screw on the head there."  You see, "Hit the nail on the head" is a recognized expression for doing something right, dead on, making a pointed observation, etc.  See here.  But "Hit the screw on the head" is, henceforth, going to be the sarcastic version of that expression - letting someone know they have just said something moronic or come out with a complete nonsequitur. You see, you're not supposed to hit screws on the head.  Because the way you get a screw to go into something is by screwing it.  With a screwdriver.  If you pound on a screw with a hammer, it's going to mess up the wood or whatever material you're trying to fasten/secure.  You know, because of the threads.

I did a google search and a quick glance at the results came up with just one person using the phrase, and he was just trying to be funny/punny in complimenting someone for his observations in a post about, yes, screws.  Plus, he only used "screw" in a parenthetical after "nail," the actual expression.

So, you heard it here first.  "Hit the screw on the head" is going to be all the rage.  All the kids (or at least the cool kids, like Sloth) are going to be saying it.  It's going to be on t-shirts, bumper stickers.  Maybe I can even get it to be the catch phrase for some Saturday Night Live sketch.  And I'm going to rake in the dough from all my license fees etc. and live happily ever after in a small town in the middle of nowhere.  Maybe I'll even be known as "that Screwhead guy."  That would be awesome.

Stolen

from T at Pup's place.  I've been feeling a bit introspective lately, so I'm going to do what T says - bold the ones that are accurate for me.  Many of them tempted me to add parentheticals, but I resisted.:

01.I am perfectly content to sit by myself for hours listening to the same songs over and over again.
02. I'm a loud person.
03. I would love to do country line dancing.
04. I don't really care about...anything.
05. I can completely lose myself in a song.
06. Driving aimlessly while blasting music is therapeutic.
07. I love fall.
08. I hate turtleneck sweaters.
09. My friends mean the world to me.
10. I also hate when people TypE LyKe D1s.
11. I only get 3-4 hours of sleep a night sometimes.
12. I believe that even if they work, long distance relationships still suck.
13. Computers suck <-- but i need them
14. I don't like people
15. I like shopping for shoes.
16. I don't like studying.
17. After high school I'm going to Law school.
18. Sometimes I feel like passing out in the middle of the floor for no reason.
19. I want to go to Europe.
20. I have a lot to learn.
21. I'm vegetarian.
22. I sometimes like to watch the rain and think.
23. I like pop music.
24. Johnny Depp is beautiful.
25. Groups of the same kind of people make me sick.
26. I can type rather fast.
27. I wish I could sleep better.
28. I wish love was like a movie.
29. I'm not a huge fan of the holidays.
30. I like the movie Star Wars
31. I want to win the lottery one day.
32. I like the Starting Line.
33. I trust people way too easily.
34. I don't have a job.
35. I dont like a lot of people.
36. I like to go stargazing.
37. I know a lot of people, but only have a few close friends.
38. I'm easy to get along with i think
39. I'm a very aggressive person.
40. I like having "beauty nights" with my friends.
41. I need to find something I'm talented in and stick to it.
42. I'm very insecure, even though I don't show it.
43. I really enjoy thoughtful gifts, even if they cost nothing.
44. I never want to live in Australia.
45. I'm too aggressive.
46. I love flavored lipgloss
47. Sometimes words can actually hurt me more than sticks and stones.
48. The movie Honey makes me sick.
49. I like holding hands more than anything.
50. I have no life.
51. Sometimes, I like spending time alone.
52. I'm not a big fan of relationships.
53. It needs to be quiet and dark for me to fall asleep.
54. I miss being kissed.
 55. I love to find money in my coat pockets.
56. In the winter i never want to leave my house.
 57. I wish I was good with directions.
58. I'm pretty good with forgetting about things.
59. I like to read childrens stories.
60. I dye/cut my hair way too much.
61. Emotional neediness scares the crap out of me.
62. Hearing people say they miss me, when I thought they didn't care, makes me smile.
63. I like the beach.
64. One of my favorite movies is Life as a House.
65. I'm very loud.
66. I feel like something's missing, even though I'm pretty content with my life right now.
67. My hair has a mind of it's own, and that mind is a paranoid schizophrenic.
68. I think meat is gross!
69. For the most part I don't care what anyone thinks of me.
70. I don't like having a boyfriend.
71. the song iris by the goo goo dolls is one of my favorite songs.
72. I've never (really truly) been in love.
73. I get really excited about girls/boys who play acoustic guitar.
74. I have never seen E.T.
75. I am drawn to intellect and humor.
76. I want my hair to be long but I can never grow it out.
77. I hate when people do things just to look important.
78. I love the game twister.
79. I'm not old-fashioned.
80. I watch a lot of TV
81. I'm not picky about anything.
82. I like acting like a kid.
 83. I don't understand why everyone feels the need to be obsessed with star shaped things.
84. Music plays a big part in my life.
85. I hate the word "emo"
86. I want silky smooth skin.
87. I love Oprah.
88. Sometimes I think to myself: Wow. People are really stupid.
89. Stupid people annoy me.
90. I may sound sarcastic but I really am serious.
91. I can forgive and forget.
92. I like being mean to people I don't know.
93. I can't stand ignorance.
94. Really tall people scare me.
95. I hate snow.
96. I love to laugh.
97. I don't listen to people that much.
98. I HATE hello kitty gear.
99. I think people throw the word love around too much.
100. I am outgoing
101. I hate when people always have to sound smart like when they correct the teacher.

Take Me MuthaFuckin' Uptown

The Slavedrivers for whom I work provide a few of what the kids these days call "perks."  For instance, the car service.  Because I left work a bit before midnight tonight (having arrived 15 1/2 hours earlier), I was entitled to ride home in the air-conditioned comfort of a Lincoln Town Car.  I have friends with different jobs that still think this is one of the coolest things ever.  Needless to say, I'll trade my midnight car ride for the subway at rush hour any day.  Why?  Because rush hour happens SEVEN HOURS EARLIER.

Having ridden home like a King all too often in my four years of indentured servitude, I've developed an entire list of pet peeves related solely to the car service drivers.  Tonight was the smorgasbord of things I hate.  The guy who drove me home took a route that could have made sense only to Rube Goldberg.  Then, having already gone way the hell out of the way, he missed a turn that even he had to admit he should have made.  He was also TWO kinds of bad driver - the swerving, makes me wanna puke kind (I had a girlfriend once upon a time who used to get carsick religiously, but it takes a lot to get to me) AND the in no hurry despite the fact that there's open road ahead and it's fucking midnight and I want to get home kind.  Enough already.  But no, he was also the guy who needs to make conversation.  I'm never rude (and some people are - it's unbelievable how I've seen some of the partners talk to drivers and other lower life forms), but I try to give 2 word answers to make clear that I'm really not interested in chatting.  This guy did not get it.  We talked about such pleasant topics as video games, how hard it is to make money, and how I'm not married ("Oh," he said, "not ready to be tied up yet, hahaha." Well, actually, it's been quite some time since I've been tied up, and I AM ready to try it again, but thanks for reminding me.)  He recommended, for someone like us, with "strange schedules," a dating service, which is where he "got his wife," who he referred to as "a pretty good one." 

All things being equal, I'd rather be in Philadelphia.

Bonus points for anyone who can identify the artist from whose track the title of the post comes.

The Best of Times 

 

This picture was taken a little over a year ago.  Driving down the coast from SF to LA.  It was an amazing trip for a lot of reasons, most of which I won't get into.  Damn you, Pup, for teaching me how to post photos to my blog and making me get all sentimental and depressed on a Sunday night!

 

Anyway, I've got the photo thing down.  Now I have to go out and take some good shots.  But right now, I think I need to go take some good shots.  You catch my drift, Mandingo?

 

Run, Don't Walk

to your nearest Blockbuster and/or television with Cinemax On Demand, get comfortable on your couch, and see Cabin Fever.  When this movie came out in the theater, I wanted to see it.  I was apparently the only one, so it disappeared before I had a chance.  Tonight, after drafting an answer to a complaint in a multi-million dollar antitrust suit while watching the Mets get their asses kicked by the Braves, I figured I'd put on a fizzilm for background noise while I drafted an answer to another similar complaint.  I know, I know, you're thinking "Drafting TWO answers on a single Saturday night?  LiAps - you're an animal!!"  What can I say?  Live Hard, Die Young.  But wait, only the good die young.   (Furdells, I owe you a beer.  Though, I swear, I would have thought of that myself).  Whatever.

So anyway, I noticed Cabin Fever was available on the On Demand channel, and figured it would give me something to look up at occasionally, in between denying knowledge or information sufficient to form a belief as to the truth of all those damned allegations.  As you might have guessed, it didn't turn out that way.  I was hooked.  Why?  It defies explanation.  The whole movie defies explanation.  To wit, the following actual dialogue:

"Why would you want to shoot a squirrel?"

"I don't know, because they're gay?"

It got more nonsensical from there.  And I loved it.  True, in the beginning it could have been in large part due to the hot little blonde chick (I like those.  I like them a lot).  But SPOILER AHEAD (I learned that from reading IMDB reviews): she's the first of the crew to get the mysterious disease and start decomposing before your eyes.  If it were just about her, I would have lost interest halfway through.  There was just something about the movie.  It was the perfect combination of awful horor flick with a few laughs, awful comedy with just enough violence and overall grossness, and movie that just makes you say "Huh?" 

So see it.  Even if you don't fall in love, stick it out.  The horrible cheap laugh in the last scene is reward enough.  Oh, and Deputy Winston.  If ever there was a character I could identify with . . .

Little Bitty Post

Thank you Alan Jackson. 

Saw something on the way to the subway this morning that made me laugh.  At 7:30 a.m., laughter is a good thing.  Walking past one of those fruit carts (ubiquitous on the streets of NYC for those unfamiliar, and they sometimes have much better product/produce than the fancy gourmet supermarkets), I saw a blind guy - cane, sunglasses and all - checking out a melon to see if it was ripe.  He was doing the whole knocking on it and listening thing.  I know that that's how you're supposed to determine ripeness, and in theory, visual clues aren't of much use.  But it still would have made a great picture.  I really wish I had the patience and time to carry a camera around with me 24/7.  I should get one of those really tiny digitals in addition to my huge fancy SLRs.  But I digress.  The scene only got funnier when the blind guy, apparently unsatisfied with the way the melon sounded, tried to put it back down on a part of the table that, well, wasn't there.  Fruit stand guy made a fantastic save.

To work, for the man.  Somebody come save me please.

Oh, The Horror

As a friend (and a huge fan) of the Furdells, I hesitate to post anything at all about tv or movies (forget about pinball or comic books).  They are the undisputed experts, and even when I disagree wholeheartedly with one or more of them about a particular film or series, they always make worthwhile points and do so intelligently and eloquently. 

But I caught a tease tonight for a new show coming to NBC.  "LAX" starring two people you haven't heard from -- or even thought of -- in 10 to 20 years.  No, not Walter Mondale and the Where's the Beef lady.  Heather Locklear and Blair Underwood.  OK, Underwood was on Sex And the City.  And Locklear was on Spin City.  But I didn't watch either of those shows.  To LiAps, those two are TJ Hooker and LA Law  and that's it (and Locklear was HOT in uniform).

Perhaps LAX will be the biggest hit of the season.  But who the hell wants to wach a show about the airport?  On the off chance you do, how about A&E's Airline??  The advantage there is that it's a reality show.  In fact, the only kind of reality show I think is worth watching these days -- one where you get to laugh at other people's misery from the comfort of your couch.  One thing that keeps me alive and relatively sane despite the craziness of my job and the whateverness of the rest of my life is that I am occasionally blessed with a peek into the "It Could Always Be Worse" files.  And watching some moron argue with a gate agent about why it was wrong for the plane to leave without him while he was outside smoking until 20 minutes past departure time is a double victory; it could be worse two ways - I could be the moron or the gate agent.

In any event, I'm going to be insane at work for the next 6 weeks or so.  Seriously.  So, dedicated readers, be patient.  Perhaps I'd be more inclined to post if somebody occasionally commented on something I did write.  So (all 4 of you), feedback and suggestions are encouraged.

Possibly The Greatest Website Ever

And by greatest, I don't mean weirdest, funniest, grossest, or any of those other ests.  I mean greatest in terms of the most practically useful.  Further to my post about how many planes I'm going to be on in the next month and a half, I played around and found seatguru.com.  This site has seating diagrams for just about every aircraft operated by every major carrier I can think of (and some I couldn't).  It lists pros and cons of particular seats, based on feedback from people who write in.  It's one thing to know you're getting screwed by getting stuck in a middle seat in the back of the plane.  But it's on a whole 'nother level to know you're getting REALLY screwed because your middle seat in the back of the plane has immovable armrests and 1.2 inches less legroom than the other shitty seats.  It's no secret anymore that exit rows are a good bet, but this site is going to help me make sure I get the absolute best available seat for every freaking flight I take from now on.  I am also going to be a total geek and write in with comments after all my flights.  That makes me somewhat happy, despite the nonstop drilling that's been going on under the floor of my office for the past 2 hours.

Around The World in 2 Weeks

OK, not quite.  But I spent a good portion of my morning trying to work out travel arrangements for the 1st 2 weeks of August.  I'll be in London for a day or two, and Bermuda for 3 days.  Both of those trips are for work.  Really, they are.  But right from Bermuda, I take off to meet some of the boys (and kfree) in Vegas (no, I don't know that guy, or those girls, but that's the kind of stuff that happens in Vegas).  Needless to say, that's the leg of the trip I'm most looking forward to. 
 
One cool thing about the London trip though is that I'm flying Virgin Atlantic.  I've heard very good things about them, but never had the pleasure.  My flight over is on a 747, and I've never been on one of those monsters before.  I'm just hoping I get to sit upstairs.  Hell, the client's paying, right?
 
These two trips are pretty much set.  On top of those, it's almost certain I will be in San Franciso toward the end of August, and quite possibly Honolulu in between.  Business travel can be a pain in the ass, but I vow to bring my camera (digital or real film to be determined) on these trips and to try to find some time to go out and shoot.  Don't I sound like a real photographer??

If I Get

one more email from Frederick's of Hollywood telling me it's my LAST CHANCE TO SAVE 40% ON OUR ENTIRE INVENTORY, I'm going to kill somebody.  Freddy, baby, I am presently single as the Ace of Spades, and I assure you NOBODY wants to see me in a mesh bodystocking.  I don't need or want your sexy underwear.  When you're giving away your models, shoot me some spam.  Until then, let me be.
 
As Al Goldstein would say, "If you buy from Frederick's of Hollywood, you're a fucking putz!"

The Good and The Bad

In the spirit of procrastination (however brief), I will recount two things I saw/experienced on my walk from the subway to my office this morning.

1) (The Good) - Some girl walked past me wearing a yellow t-shirt that said, simply, "I [heart] Spicy Tuna." As I do too, it made me smile.

2) (The Bad, or, more appropriately, Volume 2 of LiAps's Pet Peeves) - While waiting to get my iced coffee and muffin at Dunkin' Donuts, the guy who came up in line behind me was one of those people who feels the need to get as close as possible to you, as though scared somebody might try to wedge himself in between in hopes of claiming the last chocolate glazed. Maybe it's just my magnetic personality (or my shampoo), but I feel like I end up with those people behind me more often than is normal. To make it worse, this guy was carrying his freaking dry cleaning with him, and was actually pressing his wire hangers into my back. I did not care for him (Sam I Am). I think we can all agree, he deserves a beatdown.

That's it. I trust my devoted readership (of zero) was not disappointed by these fascinating vignettes.

Oy, Vat Are You Thinking?

Been meaning to post about a lot of random things the past couple of days, but haven't had the attention span. Couldn't resist though, when I came across this ad on Craig's List, a Bulletin Board service that can prove pretty useful in the otherwise hellish world of NY apartment hunting. "Kosher Apartment within walking distance of Republican National Convention??" Sure, there are some Jewish Republicans, but who wants to encourage that? I like to believe my people are smarter.

And, to the person looking to make some quick cash by renting the place out for a couple of days: Take it from somebody who did the same thing for the 1996 Olympics - unless you're going to get back there immediately upon checkout to do damage control, it probably isn't worth it. The people who rented my place left some milk out (not in the fridge, but OUT), and by the time we got back to the city of At-Lahn-Ta, it had just just about turned into meat.

Critical Ass

It's official. Here in NY, we've passed the point of no return. Enough consecutive hot, disgustingly humid days combined with the standard amount of garbage that sits waiting on the sidewalks for NY's Strongest to come pick it up, and Bam. The streets will now, until probably late September, smell like the trash chute in a rent-controlled apartment that the landlord has been trying to drive people out of for the last 50 years.

Used to be that, while the streets occasionally reeked, the smell would be diminished once the big white trucks came around and took the crap to Staten Island, where it belongs. I can remember the summer of 1998, when I was living in the Village and used to walk to work every morning along Houston Street. Monday mornings, with a full weekend's worth of restaurant and bar garbage, plus all the weekend's leftover puke on the streets, were barely tolerable. But by mid-week, you could almost make it 5 blocks without wishing you'd brought some of that stuff that Jodie Foster puts under her nostrils before checking out the body of the GreatBigFatPerson Buffalo Bill had taken care of.

Now, even when they've come to take the garbage away, the stench lingers. Summer in New York has its benefits, like the fact that all kinds of people leave on the weekends to go to the Hamptons and other stupid places that probably smell better. But, Jesus, can we get some big ass Stick-Ups on the streetlights or something?

AC Report

I'm back (and better than ever). I'm pleased to report that, uncharacteristically, I actually won money. Not set for life, took a helicopter home money, but hey, more in your pocket when you leave than when you got there is a good thing. Unfortunately, my two gambling companions didn't do as well. They paid their entertainment fee, but left smiling nonetheless.

I will say that there was possibly no funnier moment in my gambling history than being at a craps table shooting the dice with a table packed full of strangers screaming "Come on, Sergeant Li-Aps!!!!" (a nickname I've earned based on my tendency to be a little overzealous in trying to motivate those traveling with me to get their shit together and move, move, move!) We also learned a few things, key among them: When the guy with the tits is rolling, play the don't pass line.

There's more to be said, no doubt. But that's a pretty good summary considering I got back at 4:30 am.

Sorry Fox

Any plans you may have had for next season's hottest reality hit, "Who Wants A Lethal Injection?" will have to be trashed, at least to the extent you wanted to film in Missouri. 8th Circuit's Decision is here, again, thanks to How Appealing.

I'm going to try to avoid stealing too much from that site, since, if you wanted to read about appellate court decisions (as opposed to strictly Sodomy Law - see Alfanoose's comment below) you'd go there. But I was compelled to post this simply so I could link to pictures of the two nominal defendants in the case, Gary Kempker, Director of the Missouri Dept. of Corrections, and his sidekick, Robert Goulet, I mean, George Lombardi, sorry. Don't these two look like the perfect dynamic duo of death?

NewsFlash

This blog is now, after a mere week of existence, the number 1 result of a Google search for LiAps. Some of you might not think that's an accomplishment, but go check out the other results. It was a fierce competition.

Is it just me . . .

or does it make anybody else laugh that a guy suing to have Utah's sodomy law declared unconstitutional would be from a town called American Fork? Here's a link to the 10th Circuit's opinion, affirming the District Court's dismissal of the case for lack of standing. A decision which is correct, but which simply constitutes another to throw on the pile of, "What do we have these laws for anyway?" Especially if, as the 10th Circuit notes, in light of the Supreme Court's recent Lawrence decision, no state is going to enforce them? For mildly entertaining descriptions of other silly laws, see dumblaws.com. I have no idea if any of these are really on the books, as the site doesn't provide citations, but hey, go ahead and try to make a citizen's arrest. Let me know how it works out.

I discovered the 10th Circuit's opinion on an excellent blog for those interested in law (the exciting kind, not the stuff I do) - How Appealing. Check it out some time.

State of the Nation

Or at least the city. I'm getting off the subway at 59th St. today, and some woman asks me to carry her backpack up the stairs for her. She looked like any one of a million average working people in NY (albeit like an average working person quite capable of carrying a backpack which couldn't have weighed more than 4 pounds). I did it, because I'm a good guy. I was slightly annoyed, which is normal for a New Yorker. More than that, though, I was thinking about whether I might be carrying a bomb. Really - the woman looked not at all like a "terr'ist" (though she might have been perspiring a bit), but I'm there wondering a) am I gonna blow up and b) am I leaving my fingerprints on something that's going to blow up a whole bunch of other people? If there are no posts for a while, somebody please come looking for me at Gitmo.

Practice Makes Perfect

Which is why, in preparation for my upcoming trip to Sin City, on which I'll be joined by, among others, Furdells 1-3, at least Pinzurs 1-2 (will Lady Pinz show?), and Pup, I am planning to shoot down to AC this coming weekend, with a man whom no link could do justice, forevermore to be known on this blog as Bag.

Atlantic City, as I'm sure most of you have heard, is the East St. Louis of the gambling world. When you exit the Atlantic City Expressway and navigate the streets of the city to get to the parking deck of your choice, you might be tempted to yell "Roll 'em up!" lest you lose a hubcap or two off the Family Truckster whilst chatting with the natives. But AC does have one thing going for it. No, not minor league baseball. It's the gambling, stupid.

One problem with AC as compared to Vegas is that there's no sports betting. So, after getting your ass ceremoniously handed to you by the unsmiling Vietnamese blackjack dealer, you can't take a "break" by going and laying $10 on some football game (or, in the summer, baseball game) and sitting to watch whoever you bet on get their asses handed to them, thus completing the circuit. So, I have promised myself that when I need a break this weekend, I'm going to perform some community service. The casinos of Atlantic City are overwhelmingly populated by what we under the age of 80 like to call the "Bus People." Every old retired person with nothing better to do in the greater New York area reloads his or her oxygen tank and gets on a bus at least once a month, riding a few hours in a vehicle that must smell like death itself for the privilege of parking his or her wheelchair in front of a nickel slot machine and painstakingly inserting coin after coin until the Depends just can't hold anymore liquid. So I, LiAps, vow, that if I am getting so demolished that I cannot bring myself to dig into the pocket for another Benjamin, I will walk around the casino volunteering my services as slot arm puller for the aged and infirm. Of course, if I'm on a roll, Great Grandma can go roll herself off the pier for all I care. That's just how it is.

Stop the Presses!!!

I bet the New York Post wishes someone had shouted that early this morning, before they ran a full page color front cover with the subhead: "Dem picks Gephardt as VP candidate." I can't find a link to a photo of the cover (help is appreciated), and they've been quick enough to change the story on their website, but shit like this cracks me up. It's a pretty good idea not to believe anything you read in the Post to begin with, but this is just wrong. It's no "Dewey Defeats Truman," but I thought my journalist friends might get a chuckle out of it. Maybe they were wrong about last Friday's Mega Millions numbers also . . .

Baseball and Women

Despite my best efforts, the end of this 3-day weekend, which I actually enjoyed to the fullest extent of the law - not a drop of work done or even thought about since 4 pm Friday - has arrived. I managed to squeeze in 3 Met games. Friday night and Sunday afternon against that other New York team. We kicked their asses. Swept them like Bourbon St. after Mardi Gras. This evening (Monday Night), Papa LiAps (thanks Daz) and I Amtraked down to Philly to see the Mets take on the team that plays there - what are they called again? Anyway, not quite as successful. Finally the boys score some runs for Tommy Glavine and he manages to give up 6 himself. I personally believe Art Howe should be fired today for not pinch-hitting for Glavine in the 6th. If that happens, somebody owes me a drink.

Oh, the women part. I did not manage to squeeze in 3 of them this weekend (though, in fairness, I wasn't really trying). My point was only this: women look hotter when you leave your natural habitat. There are plenty of beautiful women in NY, relatively few of whom I know. (That's not a comment on how unattractive my female friends are, it's just about numbers, so no complaints from my female readers please. What? Hold on, they're telling me I don't have any female readers. In that case, to all my women: Why aren't you hotter, and why don't you want me?) Still, I went down to Philly, a mere 90ish miles, and the stadium was chock full o'hotties. Do you think it's just something about having a whole fresh pool to work with? Even though you haven't even left the shallow end of the pool you dip into most often? Thoughts are welcomed from all you freakin' married people who make up probably 95% of the people who know this blog exists.

Fuck. Now to make all the links.

PSA - Just Another Tip From Your Uncle Tom

Here's hoping everyone has a safe and fun Fourth of July weekend. Just heed the FBI's warning. Apparently, people who sweat in the summer MAY BE TERRORISTS. If you see any of those people, Say No, Then Go, Then Tell Someone You Trust. (Sorry - it was the best link I could find on short notice) You know, someone like this guy.

I, Pod

Anyone else think these wonderful inventions might have minds of their own? I have 836 songs on my traveling companion, a mere fraction of the 20 Gigs it can hold, but a good chunk of music nonetheless. I have not created any "Playlists," so all my songs are just there, in one big category. Thus, when I set my pod to "Shuffle - Songs," my firm belief is that it should play each of the 836 songs once, in random order, before repeating any song twice. But the little white guy apparently has already chosen some favorites. I've heard "Accidentally Kelly Street" by Frente 3 times, but am Waiting in Vain to hear "Butt Naked Booty Bless" by Poor Righteous Teachers and/or "Double Wide Paradise" by Toby Keith. Please, Pod, Variety is the spice of life. Surprise me.

LiAps's Pet Peeves, Volume 1 of forever

1. Ted Robinson or Howie Rose, whichever moron it was on tonight's Mets broadcast on MSG, who, when reading the spot for Jaguar, who sponsored some moronic statistic/giveaway/charity thingy ("Every time a foul ball lands in the open mouth of a hemophiliac weighing 353 pounds or more, Jaguar will donate $24 to the CrackBaby Foundation of greater Pawtucket"), pronounced it Jag-U-Ar. Without the pompous affected British accent, it just doesn't fly kid. You might as well say Jag-Wire, like most of the NFL broadcasters.

2. Went to meet some people out at a bar tonight. It's not that cool a place, honestly. The conversation between the Doorman and LiAps follows:

D: Oh, excuse me, are you on the guestlist?

L: I would be very surprised if I were.

D: Well, are you here for anything?

L: I'm here to meet a bunch of people and have a few drinks. [Should have said: I'm here to pay $40 for 2 mixed drinks and a bottle of Corona, why do you ask?]

D: Do you know if those people are on the guestlist?

L: I haven't the first clue. Can I go in now?

D: Uh, OK. Have a good time.

I hate New York.