AMATEUR

Thanks to Mai and her unicorn, I enjoyed this greatly and I hope you will, too...

MISSING IN ACTION

I know I've been neglectful, but that has more to do with the fact that since Thanksgiving, I have travelled up and down the Northeast several times. We moved out of our family home in Delaware (that was a mindscrew) and I was in DC and NYC back and forth for work, so I'm finally getting a moment to get back to things. Of course, I leave again for X-mas and the first week of January is already filling up (why does Day One in New York start on New Year's Day? Who does that?) so it looks like I shall be very busy, indeed.

In the meantime, this is quite possibly one of the funniest things I've seen in a while. Enjoy.

Oh, and Happy Holidays! (yes, I still use the greeting because not everyone celebrates Christmas, Walmart)

*ACTUAL ENGLISH SUBTITLES USED IN FILMS MADE IN HONG KONG*

1. I am damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way.

2. Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep.

3. Gun wounds again?

4. Same old rules: no eyes, no groin.

5. A normal person wouldn't steal pituitaries.

6. Damn, I'll burn you into a BBQ chicken!

7. Take my advice, or I'll spank you without pants.

8. Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?

9. Quiet or I'll blow your throat up.

10. You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken.

11. I'll fire aimlessly if you don't come out!

12. You daring lousy guy.

13. Beat him out of recognizable shape!

14. I have been scared shitless too much lately.

15. I got knife scars more than the number of your leg's hair!

16. Beware! Your bones are going to be disconnected.

17. The bullets inside are very hot. Why do I feel so cold?

18. How can you use my intestines as a gift?

19. This will be of fine service for you, you bag of the scum. I am sure you will not mind that I remove your manhoods and leave them out on the dessert flour for your aunts to eat. [sic, of course]

20. Yah-hah, evil spider woman! I have captured you by the short rabbits and can now deliver you violently to your gynecologist for a thorough examination.

21. Greetings, large black person. Let us not forget to form a team up together and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feets on some ass of the giant lizard person.

Phew.

So I know it's been a while. And I know I was silent after the election. That has more to do with my schedule and trying to move out of the Delaware house, which is a whole other bag of worms.

I will say that after 12 years, it's nice to finally remember what it feels like to win on Election Day. And here in New York, it's a nice change from 4 years before when I was crying in my beer.

You may call me cynical, but what I said before the election matters more now than it did before: It's not enough to win, it's about what you do with it that counts. So the clock is ticking and from what I've seen so far, I have reason to believe that we're back on a good track. Thank God. It's been too long in the darkness, my friends.

And anyone who thinks that the Presidential is two years away has to think again. That campaign began November 8th, 2006. And I will once again do what I did in 2002 - peg a candidate that I think will make it somewhere on the ticket. When I was working on the McCall campaign, one of the managers asked us a hypothetical: If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Edwards, Kerry, Dean, Gephardt, or Gore - whom would we work for/which one would win the nomination?

I would like to state for the record that I was one of two to pick Kerry. And my original hunch was correct.

So put some money down, kids. I'm changing the question slightly, but let's ask the same question.

If the Democratic Presidential nominees were Clinton, Obama, Vilsack, Bayh, and Biden, which one is likely to be on the ticket?

My answer is Tom Vilsack. Where on the ticket, I can't be so sure. Unlike 2004, we have a rare Presidential election coming up where neither the President is running for re-election and a Vice-President is running for the big office. That being said, the demographics of the electorate are too difficult to make a really accurate prediction and the last election confused the map.

And I would never underestimate the Junior Senator from New York. I love her to death, and despite what everyone else says about her chances, I would never underestimate that woman. She's proven she can beat the naysayers. And that is also more reason for me to heart her. That's not an endorsement, just the truth.

What I do know is that Tom Vilsack has an incredible story, he was a popular governor of Iowa, a moderate, and could carry the Midwest. So I'm pegging half a horse on him to make it on the ticket, no matter where on the ticket he ends up. He would turn some of those red states blue - and that would be a good number of electoral votes that flip the other way.

So look out for him. Don't discount him. And don't be silly to discount either Obama or Clinton, either. And I'm comfortable saying that I don't think both of them would be on the same ticket - for fairly obvious and sad reasons.

So let's hear it, folks. Anyone dare to make predictions?

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

I take a break to crawl out from the millions of maps that have made me cross-eyed to bring to you a special public service announcement in several parts:

1. After a whole day of travelling on planes for two ten-minute meetings on Long Island that routed me from Albany to Boston to Long Island and then from Long Island to Philly back to Albany (because that makes sense), I don't give a flying damn if your plane was delayed. Don't whine to me. I've gotta get to the gate before my next plane boards.

2. Subsequently, if an entire Judo team is returning from a tournament and the team consists of mostly high school/college age kids who have nothing better to do than yell, scream, and try to rub up against each other, I should be allowed to move seats. Especially if it's the last leg of my journey.

3. In the Bill Maher tradition - a NEW RULE: Air-buses or Air-rickshaws, as I have dubbed them, need to go. If there's only one row of seats separated by an aisle and then another row of seats, no one should be flying in it. I don't care if you feel like a rock star because you have to step down a flight of stairs and walk on the tarmac to get to the plane, they're just wrong. Any plane where the Navigator/Co-Pilot is also the Stewardess should be outlawed. As a union representative, unless they're getting paid to do both jobs, then away they should go. Give me a bigger plane that doesn't rock in the air like I was on a tilt-a-whirl or the Pirateship - anyone who has been to an amusement park knows what I mean.

4. Do not, I repeat, do NOT allow white kids to cornrow their hair. I don't care if you think you're cool. Especially the half skull cornrow - where it's done from the front of the scalp to halfway and then stops like someone got tired of doing it. I saw two little girls, sisters, with cornrows in their hair like that and it was just wrong. If you're a parent, you should be outlawed or blacklisted. It's like allowing your kid to have a mullet because you think it's cute. I have news for you: it didn't look cool when Justin Timberlake did it when he was in N'Sync. Kevin Federline is... well, if you don't already know that he sucks, then allow us to cattleprod you. Frankly, you just don't have the hair to make it look good.

and finally:

5. If you are over 50, it's not cool to have "Orange County Choppers" stickers all over your car so no one can see the Yankee bobbleheads and assorted stuffed animals you've deliberately placed in the back window. I'm a huge Yankee fan and those bobbleheads belong on a shelf in your house and/or office. And gluing action figures to the dash is also a big no-no. Not only is it distracting, it gives off the impression that you're down with having your car look like you're still in high school. You're over 50. Enjoy the Social Security those of us still working are paying you.

Someone's riding the bitter train.

...and back to the maps.

Remember, the more you know...

SOMEONE'S PULLING MY LEGS...

And undoubtedly, they need it, given that I'm as tall as a Smurf.

But if I even remotely resemble any of these people given my facial structure, then suh-weet.



Yeah, right.

WHY I SOMETIMES FEAR FOR MY PEOPLE...

It turns out that not only Chinese boys are bored. The boys in the Philippines have nothing to do, either:



The best part about the video is that they are in a cybercafe-type place. In the Philippines, you can find them on every corner. My question is, where are the people that work there?

If you go to YouTube, you'll find a whole collection of really bored Filipino boys. It must be the new thing to do for schoolboys on their afternoon breaks.

Sigh. Lea Salonga is still our claim to fame. It's hard not to see why.

PATRIOTIC

On September 10th, I found myself locked on Murray Street between Broadway and West Broadway, sandwiched between cars just trying to move but sitting idle because we had been directed and then blocked by the police. It turns out President Doucheb... er, Bush... was giving some sort of speech at Ground Zero. Bunches of people were walking up Murray, turned away from Ground Zero because of the President. Many of them were not only annoyed, but pissed.

New York is not the city to piss off near September 11th.

Especially when it involves President Bush. We just don't like him like the rabid red states do.

Those of us stuck sort of commiserated together. What else could we do? None of us liked the president, but it wasn't like we were going anywhere. Our comments were funny and nasty at the same time, "Oh, we'll just be here until his photo op is over." Or, "Yeah, it's close to mid-terms, isn't it?" I love New Yorkers. They know what's going on even if they don't read the paper everyday. And in times of annoyance, we can chat with each other like old friends.

After convincing the campaign I was working on that I was certain I wasn't going to be going anywhere, we noticed the President's motorcade going south in front of us. Fifteen minutes later, they were going north behind us. And we were still stuck. Um, the big hole in the ground is over there. I can point to it - it's only a few blocks away. You'd think that after all his talk and swagger over Ground Zero that they might have a small idea of where it is and how to get there. ESPECIALLY since they cleared the streets for him to go. I'm just saying...

Forty minutes later, we moved. And I'm still pissed.

IN the meantime, here is something amazing: a reporter who finally told it like it is. And to thank him, I'm sharing. He's said what I've been wanting to say. Enjoy. (And just FYI, the picture is one I took the evening of September 11, 2006 driving back to the hotel. I love those lights.)

The Nation -- Keith Olbermann is without a doubt the best news anchor on television today. Two weeks ago, echoing the spirit of the legendary Edward R. Murrow, Olbermann took Donald Rumsfeld to task for comparing critics of the Iraq war to Nazi appeasers. Tonight, broadcasting live from above a desolate and still demolished Ground Zero, Olbermann delivered a stirring eight minute commentary indicting the Bush Administration's shameful and tragic response to 9/11. The entire speech is worth watching and reading, so I'm posting the full text below.

Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.

All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and -- as I discovered from those "missing posters" seared still into my soul -- two more in the Towers.

And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.

I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.

And anyone who claims that I and others like me are "soft,"or have "forgotten" the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.

However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast -- of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds -- none of us could have predicted this.

Five years later this space is still empty.

Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.

Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.

Five years later this country's wound is still open.

Five years later this country's mass grave is still unmarked.

Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.

It is beyond shameful.

At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial -- barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field -- Mr. Lincoln said, "we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract."

Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.

Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. "We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground." So we won't.

Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they're doing instead of doing any job at all.

Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.

And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.

And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.

The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.

Those who did not belong to his party -- tabled that.

Those who doubted the mechanics of his election -- ignored that.

Those who wondered of his qualifications -- forgot that.

History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation's wounds, but to take political advantage.

Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.

The President -- and those around him -- did that.

They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, "bi-partisanship" meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President's words yesterday, "validate the strategy of the terrorists."

They promised protection, and then showed that to them "protection" meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.

The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had 'something to do' with 9/11 is "lying by implication."

The impolite phrase is "impeachable offense."

Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.

Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.

Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.

Yet what is happening this very night?

A mini-series, created, influenced -- possibly financed by -- the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.

The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.

How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you -- or those around you -- ever "spin" 9/11?

Just as the terrorists have succeeded -- are still succeeding -- as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.

So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.

This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney's continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.

And long ago, a series called "The Twilight Zone" broadcast a riveting episode entitled "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."

In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car -- and only his car -- starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man's lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An "alien" is shot -- but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there's no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, "they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it's themselves."

And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: "The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.

"For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own -- for the children, and the children yet unborn."

When those who dissent are told time and time again -- as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus -- that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American...When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have "forgotten the lessons of 9/11"... look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:

Who has left this hole in the ground?

We have not forgotten, Mr. President.

You have.

May this country forgive you.

HONESTLY?

Drink the koolaid. Drink it! I'm just gonna let this one speak for itself.

This just in from CNN:

Still, some Southern women remain stalwart supporters of the president and the Republican Party. At a watermelon festival in Chickamauga, in the mountains of northwest Georgia, substitute teacher Clydeen Tomanio said she remains committed to the party she's called home for 43 years.

"There are some people, and I'm one of them, that believe George Bush was placed where he is by the Lord," Tomanio said. "I don't care how he governs, I will support him. I'm a Republican through and through."

FUN ON A PLANE

So I just returned from the motherland, The Land of Pleasant Smiles, the Philippines.

Or as I call it, the Land of Brown.

While I have many pictures and stories to tell, here's a gem:

My mom and I are in the exit row of the plane on the 17 hour leg of the journey (yes, seventeen hours - on the way to the Philippines, it's eighteen) and sometime in the middle of it, I wake up out of a sound nap to discover a long line waiting to use the bathroom. Two woman are standing and opposite of them is a mother and her little child. I notice the little child is doing the pee-pee dance, holding himself. It's pretty obvious he has to go pretty bad.

I decide to watch to see if one of the women will let him go before them. I look over at my mom and notice she's watching, too.

Then she bemusedly says to me when she notices me looking at her, "Yeah, but the funny thing is, no one is in the bathroom."

And I look up to see that the "Occupied" light is not on. And they all continue to wait in line.

No, we weren't jerks. As soon as I noticed this and had a bit of a laugh, one of the ladies seemed to lose patience and pushed the door slightly, realized it was empty, and let the little boy go in.

You gotta laugh when you can on a 17 hour flight.

P to the S: Kudos to Mai-chan who actually offered up a suggestion to my Snakes on a Plane challenge. I'm still taking applications.

DAMN, IF IT'S THAT EASY...

Then I'm quitting my job. On the eve of my departure from the states to the homeland (that would be the Philippines for those of you not paying attention), I choose to rant about something that I find completely, utterly - even fascinatingly (that's a word, dammit) - ridiculous.

Of course, I am speaking of Snakes on a Plane. Have you heard of this movie? Snakes on a Plane. Guess what it's about? Snakes.

On a Plane.

Ga?

We Americans really must have dumbed down a lot to deserve a movie title like that. The boy insists that it must have been the working title of the screenplay that got leaked and such a buzz was created that they had to keep the name. But come on, snakes on a plane?

What I'm saying is that if something as ridiculous as Snakes on a Plane actually makes some money, then I'm quitting my job and writing stupid movie plots, too. Just imagine.

"This summer... you might have only seen it in your dreams: Chickens in a Car."

or...

"Come and see what everyone's talking about: Hamsters on a Steamboat."

and...

"Don't walk. Run to be the first to see Monkeys in my Pants."

I'm gonna make a fortune.

This is fun! Who else can come up with movie titles and marketing catch phrases on the Snakes on a Plane theme? I know all four of you who read this are highly intellegent, witty individuals. So give. And share your brilliance with the world. Or the other three subscribers.

I feel like I'm selling myself short. The other four subscibers.

In the meantime, I'm off on a sabbatical for a spell. But keep checking back - there's a possibility I'll come at you from a far-off destination. Assuming I can kick those little f*ckers from their networked games at the cybercafe. Not an easy feat, I promise you.

Until then, take care of yourselves. And others. By doing lots of shots. Lots.

UM, LOOK BEHIND YOU...

So the boy and I were leaving an end-of-the-softball-season drink at our sponsor's establishment, Washington Tavern, late last week when on the drive home, we passed three suspicious persons lolligagging behind parked cars on the way home. In one of their hands was a baseball bat and they were waiting for the cars to pass.

There was no one behind us, so as soon as we passed, they spread out into the street and resumed their game of street baseball. At 1am.

I should mention that less then thirty feet behind them to our right was a softball field. No one was playing on it. If you had a choice, would you play in the street or on the field? I mean, am I the only one who finds this slightly odd?

Hmmmm... Albany.

WHY ON EARTH ARE WE SURPRISED?

Any self-respecting fag hag could tell you. Hell, I knew from the minute I saw him that my gaydar, honed over years and years of collecting gay men like shoes, went off like fireworks. In fact, I think the reading was: "Gayer than Liberace's Underpants".

The thing is, who cares? And his bandmates are supportive, though it's for their sakes he kept in the closet. It is interesting to find out that Joey Fatone found out when walking in on him and his first boyfriend, though...

Now if Lance Bass would just take the time, go back into the closet, through the underground railroad, grab Clay Aiken's hand and a host of other closeted gay boys I can think of and lead them to the light, that would be a news-worthy accomplishment.

THE TIME HAS COME...

For a rant.

This is a plea for all those drivers out there. If you decide to go the speed limit or just slightly above, that's fine. Just stay in the right hand lane.

It's just that simple. Because the left lane is the passing lane. If there's a car behind you, looking like it's ready to ram you in half, you might want to think about travelling in the right hand lane when you get a free pass. Because you're driving all those people in a hurry absolutely crazy.

I'm serious. I just spent the better part of four hours getting back to Albany from NYC and I'm pissed off as hell at those left lane ho-hum-not-paying-attention-look-at-the-pretty-scenery-so-I'm-going-to-slow-down-drivers.

Please. For everyone's sanity. Consider it an act of random kindness. We'll thank you.

UM, DIDN'T THEY GET THE MEMO?

Frankly, I'm a little disturbed.

So I just took my mother to see The DaVinci Code as a present for taking such good care of me this past week following my tonsilectomy.

P.S. - trying to do absolutely nothing for a week is maddening so the minute I felt better, I took advantage. Recovery is hard. Seriously. Try sitting through that movie for the second time, I know you won't!

Right.

So it's not the movie that disturbs me (surprisingly) but after the movie, I found I had to use the ladies' room. I suppose that not being able to really eat for a week except for liquid for the most part will do that to you. That was probably more information that you needed to know for the purposes of this story. So...

Here's what disturbed me:

In the bathroom, not one, not two, but three ladies walked out of the stall, passed the sink and walked right out.

Um.

Didn't ladies stop just walking out of the bathroom without washing their hands in the early 90's? I want to say it was pooh-poohed pretty loudly when I was growing up - and when you live with an infection control nurse for the better part of your life, you wash your hands every five seconds and notice when others don't.

Am I the only one taken aback by this? One, that happens. Two, that's a coincidence. Three? That's just wrong. Didn't these ladies get the memo? It's good to wash after doing your business in the bathroom to prevent the spread of germs/disease/right-wing conservatism?

Is it just me? I got the memo. And I'm pretty sure that a good 94% of women out there got it, too. Because I haven't seen a women not wash her hands after using the restroom since before puberty. I'd say these three women were like finding unicorns in the forest, but no matter which way you slice it, I was just grossed out.

Seriously. Is it just me?!

UNDER THE KNIFE. AGAIN.

In less than three days, I am officially going under the knife. Again.

No. It's not serious. At least, I can't imagine it would be.

I mean, really, the only surgery I've ever had is my wisdom teeth out. So I anticipate this one will hurt a little bit more. And no, I'm not nervous. Just not interested in the healing process and pain that will come with it.

Right. I realize I have yet to tell you what surgery I am undergoing. Well, this should help:

See, I've always wanted this to happen. Because ever since I was a kid, I used to get frequent strep throat and then I don't think I spent a month in college without an ear infection. Seriously.

It wasn't until I was in an emergency room in Buffalo last November with strep throat so severe I couldn't swallow water (and my first case of strep throat since 8 years old) that I realized the time hast arrived for me to bid a not-so-fond adieu to my enormously large tonsils and hopefully, the adenoids that accompany them.

You know how they go through phases where the medical community says, "Yes, take them all out," or "No, we stopped doing that!" Well, I fell right after a phase of "Take them all out." Meanwhile, I suffered through more than 22 years of strep throats, ear infections, developed allergies, and sore throats. The time has come for me to say, "no more."

So I shall endure this latest procedure on Friday. And miss 4th of July, perhaps. But then again, I will be accompanied by Vicodin and scores of other pain-killers. And no, I'm not anticipating being the next Rush Limbaugh, but I'm sure it'll make the time go much quicker. If not less painful.

Okay. So maybe I'm a little nervous. But it's the pain that mostly makes me nervous. I know this will pass. But I'm really hoping that I'll be back to feeling functional by Independence Day.

Dare to dream. I know. Don't laugh at my dreams. Punk.

WHOA THERE.

I realize I have been neglectful. But that's sort of the way things go lately.

In short, I have no complaints. Work is enough to keep me busy and though I miss all of my friends dearly, I'm becoming much more comfortable up here in the Albania area. Partly because I'm spending time with new people and making friends. Which, my loyal readers - all three of you - is half the battle.

But this is a short post. Not intended to give you a blow by blow account of what I've been up to. Because I barely remember what I did yesterday.

You know that website, Overheard in New York? It's fabulous, no? Well, I heard something by sitting on my stoop in Albany yesterday that made me wish there was an "Overheard in Albany", though I doubt it would attract much attention...

Guy walking angrily away from woman: She hit me. Do you
understand, she hit me!

Woman: You're a pussy.

Guy: What the hell was I supposed to do?

Woman: What do you want from me?

Guy: I want the video back! You stupid bitch! The
video!

Now, not only am I wondering what is on said video, but I can totally see how she would automatically know he wanted the video back.

-or-

Guy on cellphone walking down street: Yo, son. Did you bring the
midget porn?

Yeah. Smalbany has its advantages. Sometimes.

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

That's a very good question.

Things for me have been moving along at a pretty good clip. Work's been busy. Very busy, actually. But it is that time of the year. Budgets and legislatures in session. Trying to get stuff done by June. So I expect to be busy until then.

In the meantime, I've come to rather enjoy Albany in a strange sort of way. It's like a nice mix between Syracuse and Chestertown - it reminds me of both. Which is weird, but what can you do? I'm meeting new people and getting involved in things. I have a great building of neighbors (I came home to a Cinco De Mayo Stoop Party last weekend and had a blast), I love my neighborhood, the weather is getting nicer, I'm playing on a softball team with folks from work, I'm doing quite well at sitar lessons. Everything is what you make of it. And I choose to make my new living situation as pleasant as possible.

You know, I need to start travelling with a camera everywhere I go because I keep seeing strange things that are just harder to explain. For instance, I forgot to mention that Mad Dog and I saw some dude on a seven foot tall bike in DC. We were hoping to take a picture with my cellphone, but we were stuck in traffic and by the time we had moved, the biker was gone. A shout out to Mad Dog - I miss you in Albany but hope to go to Portland and/or Seattle soon. Just find some crepes and I'm soo there.

Yesterday, in NYC, I was trying to find parking when I saw a kid no larger than three feet tall holding the leash of a giant St. Bernard as it was pooping in the street. It was really funny, strange, cute, and gross at the same time, but I wish I had a camera.

But watch. I'll start carrying one and then I'll stop seeing such funny things. Murphy's law.

So I'm sorry this isn't more exciting of a post, but that's what I've been up to. I shall commence with the funny and strange or maybe even a rant in my next one. Until then...

...take care of yourself. And others.

YET ANOTHER RANT

I find myself in New York City for the week for work. And yes, I am still torn about how much I miss this city. After a long day at work and yearning for some sort of entertainment, I decided to see what the great city has to offer.

Since I plan on going to the Tribeca Film Festival Drive-In tomorrow, I opted for the arts. I debated going to TKTS since I'm a block away. I entertained Yankees tickets (good thing I didn't go since they lost). I remembered that Lincoln Center isn't too far away, so I went to see what was up there.

Turns out they had the Akram Khan Dance Company performing in their New York premiere- a fusion of modern and kathak (one of the six major classical dances of India) dance. For those whom I haven't spoken to in a while, I happen to be embracing my South Asian neighbors - I've been a serious fan of Indian film, music, and culture for, well, my whole life, but really getting into it with fervor over the past six months. I'm even learning sitar, which is pretty damn cool and I'm sure I'll tell you all about it soon.

So, obviously, I was drawn to it.

After finding out that they still had a good deal of tickets left, I hopped over to the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle - which, P.S., is a fantastic place to spend some time because it's a cool damn place.

I was rather excited, given that I was finally going to a live Indian performance. Imagine my surprise when I bought my tickets to find out that they also had a late performance of Sapthaakshara in their U.S. debut after the dance performance. They perform Indian classical percussion. So I bought two of the best seats left for both performances, preparing for a night of sublime Desi culture.

In getting the best seats, I neglected to think about the particular sight lines of this theatre, having never seen it before. Sure, I was in the second row. But the lip of the stage was high, they had monitors and lights in the way, and a majority of the performance involved the dancers rolling around the floor.

The opening of the show paired two dancers in an elaborate yoga pose telling a rather funny story. They were soft-spoken, but mostly due to the very strange position they were in - both arms extended to the ground, one leg lifted to a diagonal across the body - basically as if they were about to get into a head stand and got distracted by something shiny halfway through and froze. It was cool to see.

I noticed the audience was an interesting mix of Lincoln Center regulars (you know, older folks with some serious money of the pale persuasion) and a good mix of South Asians.

The woman directly behind me happened to be an older woman with her husband and during the entire opening, she kept whispering, "I can't hear you!"

When I say whisper, I mean normal voice. She was disrupting the show, interrupting the story, and eventually the entire second row turned and loudly shushed her. At which point, she whispered something inaudible to her husband, though the whispering was still enough to distract us - at which point her husband loudly hushed back, "I'm sorry."

Neat.

I admit the performance was rather strange, but terribly interesting. There was some really amazing parts to it - and I think if I had been further back in the audience, I would have really really really enjoyed it.

All of us in the front had to crane our necks and move our heads at various points to see, so it was really very distracting and unideal. At which point, I notice a couple sitting in the middle of the front row.

I should mention that when this couple entered the space, the girl was like, "Oh, I don't want to sit there." And the usher calmly told her she couldn't change seats. Well, it was obvious why since the sight line was so bad, but it became apparent that she didn't really want to be there at all.

Because all the couple seemed to want to do was make out during the show. It was really obnoxious and annoying - I really don't give a damn about PDA, but if you're in the front and center of a show, have some damn restraint. They got it about 40 minutes into the show when they got up and left in the middle of a number. Yeah. Great.

Another pairing got up and left halfway through, but I suspect it was because they were getting frustrated they couldn't see properly. At least they waited until a blackout. Those are good theatregoers.

Between the shows, I hopped into a room they had where they had set up a really amazing jazz listening room (I was at Jazz at Lincoln Center, after all). That relaxed me again.

Sapthaakshara was next and I found out that I had again thought wrong when getting the tickets. This time, however, the theatre was amazing. It is settled in the front part of the Time Warner Center with high glass windows (all the way from the bottom floor - and we were on the 5th floor) overlooking Columbus Circle and Central Park. So I had an amazing view of the park. I just didn't have a great view of the show. They were sitting in a circle and one of them was directly in my line of view from watching the amazing percussion.

See, I'm a really really huge fan of Indian percussion instruments. Vikku Vinayakram (who is the head of the merry group) is considered the greatest living master of the ghatam, an ancient percussion instrument of South India which is basically a clay pot. He was breathtakingly amazing. The entire show was fun and fantastic - and I couldn't really see how they were playing it. And for all of you that know me, this was obnoxious to me, but at least I was in the front row, listening to amazing music and sounds, and overlooking Central Park.

So my night ended on a really great note. My soul feels great. But damn those audience members.

Right. Oh, and please tell me someone else thinks this picture is funny:

I know it's not a clear picture, but it's a NYC sewer cover (I think you can make it out).

But it reads: "NYC Sewer" in the middle and "Made in India" along the bottom. I find it highly amusing.

Just a great way to cap my Indian night, I suppose.

Holla.

WISDOM EXTRACTION

So I recently had my wisdom teeth removed. I thought this would be an experience that would be chalked up under my Traumatic Experiences files, given what they had told me before the surgery.

I was wrong. I don't remember a damn thing. Drugs get a bad reputation.

Yeah, I have holes in my gums. And my jaw, for that matter. The worst pain was when the novocaine wore off. That was awful. But they sent me home with a medicine cabinet that made everything good. And happy. Except that I had dull pain for two weeks, which I was content to do because I was intentionally under-dosing myself so I don't pull a Rush Limbaugh and get the shakes and sweats when it's all gone.

I'm doing well.

But my favorite part of the whole process is when the Oral Surgeon sits you down, explians what's up, then says something like, "Now, you may lose feeling in your jaw, lips, and mouth because of the proximity of the teeth to the nerve that runs alongside the under of your jaw. For the most part, it will go away after a few weeks. But given your age and the development of the teeth, there's a chance that this situation will be permanent. Okay?"

You sort of numbly nod your head, thinking, "Permanent? Seriously? I'll need a bib everytime I drink?"

Then they shove a clipboard with a disclaimer in front of your face and say, "This is just to acknowledge that we had this conversation, you understand the risks, and are going ahead." They start to leave and turn and say, "Oh, that we're not liable for loss of feeling in your mouth/gums/lips area."

Yeah, 'cause I went in and drilled the holes myself and thought it would be a good idea to personally re-enact the end scenes of The Princess Bride as Wesley - for the rest of my life.

What is that all about?

JUST BECAUSE

I know that last blog was long. It's what I've been up to and mama's been quite busy.

It's 2am. I'm in NYC. I got bored. So I started surfing the links I have to the right.

I stumbled upon my old friend, Big Daddy Sung's blog. And I got to clicking around to find a page full of postcards he has made. And I'm reminded of why he is brilliant.

So this post goes out to my good friend, Johnny, with kudos for still ruling the world all the way on the left coast and a reminder that I really need to get in touch with some of my old high school friends because hell, we had a good time and we're all quite crazy.

I mean, honestly, this one had me rolling on the floor for a good hour (click to enlarge):


Or this juicy number:

I mean, brilliant!

So go and see for yourself. I promise you'll laugh your ass off. And I'll be sure to link it on the right soon.