Raise Your Hand

if you've ever been walking up Sixth Ave. and seen a transvestite who looks kinda like your grandma.

OK, just me then?

Good Morning Fucking Siberia

Dear LiAps:

OH! You wanted hot water this morning?? Just because it was -8 with the wind chill (which does apply inside your apartment since we left 3-inch gaps between your windows and your walls)?? Yeah, sorry about that.

Love,
Building Management

Angry

I'm disproportionately outraged by the MasterCard commercial that blatantly rips off the scene in Swingers where "Mike" calls "Nikki" 47 times on the night they first meet. They even use the same names. At least somebody else has noticed it. I don't know if she's just speculating on the fact that the Swingers people are getting residuals, or if she has some inside information (if it can even be imagined that a "celebrity gossip" writer for the Post might know more about the Hollywood scene than me), but either way I'm angry. Either at the MasterCard people for the blatant ripoff, or at the Swingers people for selling out. And, some guy I've never heard of, Marty Z, is with me (forgive me for not respacing after the cut and paste; I'm tired):

MasterCard has a commercial out that does not only borrow, but blatantly steals a scene completely from "Swingers", the hilarious 1996 indie-flick starring Jon Favreau & Vince Vauhn.They even use the same NAMES, "Nikki" and "Mike" in the commercial --- the classic scene that's copied, nearly verbatim, is when Jon Favreau's character "Mike" tries to leave a message on the girl's answering machine that he met earlier in the evening -- the plaigarism in this commercial is so flagrantly apparent, it makes me nauseous -- way to go McCann-Erickson --- way to be original with your near-decade-old "priceless" ad campaign. The ad MIGHT be funny if it came out NINE YEARS AGO when Swingers was released. I need answers here, people. Was this ad approved by Favreau, or did MasterCard just flounder again, by stealing ideas for their lackluster ad campaign -- read about their clever "baseball-road-trip" commercial".

So it's unanimous. Rumor has it it's going to snow again tonight. I'll be reporting from a big-ass-pile-of-salt tomorow morning.

It's The Little Things

like flipping through the channels and finding that "So I Married An Axe Murderer" is on, just in time for the best line in the movie.

I'll be here buried in snow if anyone needs me. WTF? The news last night made it sound like the apocalypse. Yes, snow. We're gonna get some. This is NY - we've seen it before. You'd think I lived in Raleigh. Don't get me wrong, I'll take any excuse just to sit on my ass and watch movies all weekend, but last night's local news had three different reporters at three different big-ass-piles-of-salt reporting on -- yes -- filling the salt trucks up for today. A little excessive. They went to a Home Depot and made a point of showing that there were only seven shovels left. At least in that particular box of shovels. I will admit that my plan to go to AC tomorrow was probably not the most brilliant, but I'm also not worried I'm going to starve to death.

And I Thought You Zany Furdells Were Making It Up

But no. It exists - EXTREME BLACKJACK!!!!!!

AC This Sunday. Say the word and I'm there.

Uncle

Game over, BigPharma. You win. I promise promise promise that if I ever find myself on the wrong end of an erection lasting more than four hours (well, I guess the other end would be worse, but you know what I mean), I will seek IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. Now can you stop fucking talking about them (and how rare they are) every 30 seconds while I'm trying to watch tv???

Watched that new Point Pleasant show tonight. I don't think horror, as a genre, generally works as a series, so I don't hold out much hope for it. But man, that chick is hot. What chick, you ask? The one IMDB doesn't have any pictures of. But fear not. Because of my crack internet research skills, you can still see the one I'm talking about. You just need one of those police missing persons computers that can simulate the aging process. OK, I found a current pic. I feel a lot less like a child molester now.

So Much for the Gillette Endorsement

Mike Piazza has apparently decided to go with a full time beard! Congratulations Mike and Alicia (call me babe, I know how those arrangements work, and discreet is my middle name!).

Why Al Gore Created the Internet

So I could watch this and laugh hysterically even though it's not that funny. The site this comes from, uselessjunk, is aptly named. They put up some crazy shit. And it often involves naked women. So, um, that's good. Unless you're the kid in the video.

Heard the Kansas City trip went well. The idea of Pup spending a weekend with six women is frightening. Of course, the idea of Pup spending an hour with one woman is frightening too. Ladies - there's all kinds of talk about what sound like some interesting pictures. Post 'em. Stat.

And The Camel's Buried In A Big Straw Stack

I've been pretty damned irritable lately. It's torture knowing there's a light at the end of the tunnel jobwise (remember my one resolution - I'm outta here calendar 05), but at the same time knowing that the next 3 months are going to be hellish. Like the worst hell I've ever seen here. One of my cases is gearing up for trial (it's actually arbitration, but it's trial for all intents and purposes), and the partner I'm working for is a classic yeller. He is impossible to deal with when he's in a bad mood, and that is not infrequent. It is going to be a nightmare, and he is not shy about telling the entire team that's the case.

So I'm on the subway this morning, starting out antsy and high-strung, and everything is bothering me. People touching me, which is unavoidable on the subway, are just getting me crazy. Some woman kept poking me in the thigh with her soaking wet umbrella, and I could actually see the cartoon steam level rising in my head. I was so close to turning around and saying something to her. It undoubtedly would have sounded rude. And just as I about reached my breaking point, I realized that the song playing on my ipod at the time was Simon & Garfunkel's "Feelin' Groovy" (59th Street Bridge Song). The idea of me going off on some woman about her fucking umbrella poking me while Art Garfunkel was falsetto whisper/singing "Falalalalalalalalaaaaa" (or, according to the lyrics I linked to, "ba da da da" etc. etc.) in my ear was just so ridiculous, that instead of turning and saying, "Bi-Atch! You best watch yo wet ass umbrella fo' I hafta stick it up yo' ass!," I just laughed. Good thing the moment passed too, because the next song that came on was Da Lench Mob's "You and Your Heroes."

That coulda been ugly yo.

Crazy Time-Travelin' Shit

Not the greatest sunrise picture from my family honeymoon, but I love the fishing rod in the foreground.


The Pic has nothing to do with the post. I do like the pic though. The post, though, will blow your mind. You, my blogland friends, are about to witness a conversation between LiAps, the current 29-year-old version, and 14-year-old LiAps, thought by most to have long since disappeared off the face of the earth. It's madness that hasn't been seen since Doc Brown lost the blueprints for the flux capacitor. Strap yourselves in.

14: What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know how important this is to us? How fucking psyched we would be?

29: Yes, I know that. But I'm a big pussy.

14: What does that even mean? What is it you were afraid of? I understand you're a pussy, but what conceivable negative consequences could have resulted from trying, just for me?

29: Uh, I don't know. It just didn't seem right.

14: It is right. And even if it isn't right right, goddamnit, you need to try. I'm giving you one more chance. Not just giving it to you, commanding that you at least try to get one more chance, and don't screw it up again.

29: OK. I'll try to try. But I'm still a pussy.

14: Yeah. We get that.

At Pup's Insistence

And because I really don't want to work yet today:

3 names you go by:
1. LiAps
2. Mr. Lee Opps
3. Dr. Rosenpenis

3 screen names you have:
1. LiAps
2. Harris Berceir (anybody else get these emails all day every day?)
3. Todd Wilkinson (I'm Undacovah!)

3 things you like about yourself:
1. I'm fucking funny. What, you don't think so? You obviously just don't get it.
2. My philosophy on life.
3. My huge cock.

3 things you hate/dislike about yourself:
1. How often I don't abide by my own philosophy on life.
2. That I truly do need a woman's help to get dressed in the morning.
3. How I dress every day since I currently have no woman.

3 things that scare you:
1. The thought that I might dress poorly for the rest of my life.
2. Clamato.
3. The dark. Well, not really. Anymore.

3 of your everyday essentials:
1. Humor.
2. Music (thanks Pup).
3. Coffee. It's started again.

3 things you're wearing right now:
1. Left shoe.
2. Right Shoe.
3 . Crotchless leather panties.

3 of your favourite bands/artists:
1. Gary Allan.
2. Shinehead.
3. Frank Nitty (Good luck finding him on amazon!).

3 of your favourite songs at present:
1. Break Down Here - Julie Roberts
2. How am I supposed to focus on anyone other than Gary Allan and Shinehead right now?
3. Let The Horns Blow - Chi-Ali (and friends).

3 new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
1. Snowboarding.
2. Ice Fishing.
3. SnowFishIceBoarding.

3 things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
1. Rides & Attractions! Nonstop Action!
2. That feeling of contentment that I really can't describe any better. You'd know it if you saw the look on my face.
3. Challenge. Not like on Double Dare, and not the kind that can't be overcome; intellectual challenge.

2 truths and a lie:(no particular order to keep ya guessing)
1. My favorite color is gray.
2. I am the Captain of the Pinafore. And a right good Captain too! (see if you can spot the other lie in this post, supra, for extra credit!).
3. I know the words to "Rubber Duckie" in Spanish. But not in English.

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:
1. Eyes.
2. Hands (I swear - it matters).
3. Ass. You believe that one, don't you?

3 things you just can't do:
1. Dance.
2. Sing.
3. Make a souffle. I've never tried, but I'm pretty sure.

3 of your favorite hobbies:
1. TV. Yeah, fuck you, it is.
2. Writing.
3. Reading.

3 things you want to do really badly right now:
1. Walk outta this office never to return.
2. I'm sorry, I'm having trouble thinking beyond No. 1.
3. Yeah, that's it for now.

3 careers you're considering:
1. Journalist of some kind (for real)
2. Sheriff, small town.
3. Minor league baseball manager.

3 places you want to go on vacation:
1. Asia, broadly speaking.
2. Alaska.
3. Italy.

3 kids names (either boy or girl):
1. PHINNAEUS PHINNAEUS PHINNEAUS!!!!

3 things you want to do before you die:
1. Have some kids (not named Phinnaeus).
2. Make as many people smile as possible (and not just the way I do it for the ladies).
3. Luge.

3 people who have to take this quiz now:
1. kfree (Kimberly of furdell.com).
2. Kate the Peon.
3. King Juan Carlos of Spain.

TRY AGAIN

Aftermath (I believe I had English)

Aftermath


Times Square 1/1/05 circa 2:15 am.

That's it. Just felt like sharing a picture.

When I Grow Up -- UPDATED

I love to write. I don't get excited writing summary judgment briefs anymore (yes, I admit that sometimes I used to), and I've grown a bit cycnical and jaded where long, personal letters and soul-baring emails are concerned (that's probably mostly a function of having nobody to address such things to these days).

Over the past several years, I've been known to read a story online -- in anything from Slate to the NY Times -- and email it to someone with the message "This is the kind of stuff I want to write." Since the same people I'm not writing love letters and soul-baring emails to are also not available to get my "I wanna write this" links, you're all up. The quintissential LiAps story is something like the one where the reporter flies out to the middle of nowhere New Mexico, drives 400 miles down an old state highway, and writes about the things he sees and the people he meets. I don't think I have half the writing talent of anybody who writes for the Times, or for Slate, or even those hacks that write for the Miami Herald. Certainly not the reporting talent, and there is a difference; I don't like to get up in people's faces and bother them, I'm not a great bullshitter/schmoozer/asskisser, and I'm prone to sensing when someone is done wanting to talk about something and deferring rather than pushing the envelope. This whole blogging thing was a half-assed, time-limited attempt to get the writing flowing. While I like getting comments as much as the next guy, it's not about having an audience; I don't get off on seeing my name in print per se (if I did, perhaps I'd use my real name). I'm not sure I'm succeeding in getting my write on sufficiently, but I'm not ready to give up yet, as some other famous bloggers have recently.

This story from today's Times was another "This is the kind of story I'd like to write" story. On this one, I went a step further though. My apologies to Anthony DePalma (loved your dad's movies, man, really), but this story, I think I could have written better. Misspellings and assorted nonsequiturs/grammar issues etc. on NY signs are something I've been noticing and commenting on forever. Some of them are great; much greater than the ones in DePalma's story. I have thought about collecting my favorites, but never done it. In addition to better examples, I think the story cried out for more color. The premise started out too featurey to be hard news, but DePalma didn't embrace the featureyness. (Having mastered the buzzwords like that, how am I not the Executive Editor of something yet?) Anyway, I think so much more could have been done. But what do I know - maybe he was on a real tight deadline or had just returned from a 6-day multistate serial killing and heroin binge. (That's not libel. Seriously. I don't think.)

Guess I got scooped . But I doubt anyone else has picked up my slack on the photo essay documenting as many places in Manhattan as possible that advertise both "Cappuccino" and "ATM" on the same window. There are hundreds, at least. Suggestions as to what forum might accept that work for publication will be gratefully accepted.

UPDATE - If it's OK to call Evel Knievel a pimp (and the 9th Circuit says it is), I'm pretty sure DePalma's got no action against me. It's OK, Tony. I know all about no action these days. Thanks to howappealing, as always, for the link.

Network Nostradami

You have to be kidding me. I love tv, and lament that I don't have more time to watch it. But some things are such bad ideas that even the fact that they appear on that magical box in my living room can't save them. Tomorrow night, FX is airing Smallpox. Briefly, the premise is apparently that one man infects himself with smallpox intentionally, and the whole rest of the world gets it as well. It's the bio-terrorism we've all been waiting for!! But it's just a movie, right? Well, not according to FX's ingenious tag line: "It's all true. It just hasn't happened yet!"

The message board on the movie's website has some typical back and forth drivel: those convinced that the movie will instruct REAL terr'ists step-by-step how to successfully mount such an attack vs. those that think they're already planning it anyway, so we might as well know what we're in for. And even some people who seem to think that showing the movie might discourage real bad guys from trying it. You know:

Ahmed: Are we ready with the smallpox, my friend?

Mohammed: No, no. We were all set to go, but turns out FX already came up with the idea and aired it. Paris Hilton says smallpox is not hot anymore, and she does not love it. Back to the mobile weapons lab!

I have a real perverse desire to watch this movie, even though, in addition to how bad an idea I think it is to promote this thing as "true," the 30 second trailer has already convinced me it is really really poorly written/directed/acted. I'm a bit fascinated with infectious disease. Outbreak is one of my all-time favorite movies; I've read books on diseases, from the Black Death to ebola; I've considered going back to school to get a Masters in public health. Since there's no Simpsons tomorrow, I likely will watch this crap. And I hate myself for it.