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Move Bitch, Get out the way

Today's post is dedicated to all of those assholes who get in the way.

Like the guy who was arrested a few years back for blocking traffic on the sidewalk.

The pedestrian in question, Matthew Jones, "was charged with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest -- by flailing his arms-- on June 12, 2004. Police said other people "had to walk around" him, and he wouldn't move when asked." He is currently appealing his arrest.

Well I'm glad he went to the slammer. Had he followed the proper rules of pedestrian engagement and wasn't a douchebag maybe he would have avoided getting a plunger stuck up his ass.

Next up is this fat ass who got in the way of a sixty-nine:



Good job 55. Fuckin fat ass. All I wanted was a picture of a 6-9 and you ruined it. Don't you know there's only two people in a sixty-nine...unless you're in a Utah porn or something (btw, someone got to my blog recently by searching for Utah porn. Not sure why Utah porn is so special. Maybe it's because of all the mormons. hmm...)

Another guy who needs to go the fuck home is this guy:



"The protest was not without its superfans. Joaquin Ferreira, 54, of Brooklyn, arrived decked out in a Yankees hat and jacket. A fan for 10 years, he said, “I’m here to support Joe Torre. If Joe leaves, the Yankees will go to hell.”

Wait a minute...Superfan? 10 years?? Are you fucking kidding me?!? So let's see...hmm...10 years ago was 1997. Oh WAIT, that was ONE year AFTER the Yankees won the World Series. OH so that qualifies him as a superfan??? That Bandwagon jumping muthafucka? Un real. So he's been a fan just as long as Joe Torre has been a manager with the team. Nice. Good intelligent writing AM New York. Oh and look, the person who wrote the article is a Newsday writer. The pinaccle of sports journalism. What a joke. Calling him a super fan is like calling boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/ funny. (LK- there you go, I took a shot at her. Third in the voting for funniest blog my ass.)

Another person who needs to get out of the way is this asshole that had a sign that said "Cowboys Bound 4 Superbowl".



Good job genius. Hope some Patriot fans shoved that up your ass after the game. Moron. Why don't you wait until we've actually made the playoffs before declaring a trip to the Superbowl. Oh, wait...you must be a "superfan" too like the douche above. Let me guess, you started being a Cowboys fan in '93? And no true fan goes to the game with a sign that calls out the network that's calling the game. Fuck face.

Oh and btw...why that girl was announcing to the world that she's a Homo Sexual is beyond me. I mean she's cute and all and some chick would be lucky to have her as a partner. But seriously, honey, saying you're a homo sexual with a big sign is probably not the best way to get on TV.

No hugging zone



So another zone has adopted a hugging ban. This time the principal of a Oak Hill, IL middle school has placed a ban on hugging in the hallways.

Principal Victoria Sharts of Oak Park's Percy Julian Middle School is quoted saying, "Hugging is really more appropriate for airports or for family reunions than passing and seeing each other every few minutes in the halls."

Sharts is further quoted saying: "Last year we would see maybe as many as 10 students on one side (of the hallway), 10 on the other and then, going in opposite directions, would sort of have a hug line going on and you could see where that would be a problem,"

Sharts also says that "rampant hugging is creating bottle necks in the hallway and making kids late for class...although hugs are supposed to be handshakes from the heart some times they don't seem so innocent. Too long, too close, and usually between boys and girls."



Before I rip into how assassine this principal's comments are, can we just focus on something for a quick second. Is her last name Sharts? As in I just Sharted myself?


Principal Sharts, the anti-hugger

I mean I'm sure she must get bullied non-stop from the children. I'm sure they be like, hey principal, here's some Febreze for your ass. Or how's the skidmarks treating you these days.

No wonder why she's anti-hugging. Poor thing. But just because your name implies that you sharted yourself doesn't mean you have to take it out on other children.

Furthermore since when are hugs "handshakes from the heart"? A hug, by and large, is supposed to be an intimate thing. A handshake by nature is quick and formal. I mean I'm not sure what types of hugs she's gotten but obviously she wasn't one of the more popular kids growing up. Nor was she shown much love from friends and family. Hugging is a sign of flirting and friendship, at least among students. Normally girls hug each other as a sign of friendship like guys slap five. But something girls and guys hug too. I mean you gotta assume some of these kids are already having sex. Isn't that just like one giant hug between body parts?

Needless to say "Ms. Shit for Brains" is none too popular in her school these days. Now that the story is out the shit has really hit the fan for her. With all of the negative attention, I'd hope she gets canned soon. Maybe she'll get the shit end of the stick in this deal. (ok that's enough).

Before I go I need to gripe about something. Why the fuck did Poland Spring make their new bottle caps so hard to open. Seriously. You need a fuckin pair of pliers just to open the top.

I nearly sliced my fingers open and lost two teeth trying to pry the cap off.


The ingenious design of the new Poland Spring bottles

Maybe it's just me, but I've had major problems with them. Then again we all know Poland Spring is made from springs of natural concrete so not sure why I'm drinking that shit anyway.

Gimme More Collard Greens Mutha Fucka

So y'all heard by now Bill O'Reilly done said some racist things in the past few days.

If you haven't heard, O'Reilly was having dinner with Rev. Al Sharpton up at Sylvia's, which is a soul food restaurant in Harlem (one of the best soul food restaurants around).

O'Reilly was quoted saying "couldn't get over the fact that there was no difference between Sylvia's restaurant and any other restaurant in New York City. I mean, it was exactly the same, even though it's run by blacks, primarily black patronship."

O'Reilly continued "You know, I mean, everybody was -- it was like going into an Italian restaurant in an all-white suburb in the sense of people were sitting there, and they were ordering and having fun. And there wasn't any kind of craziness at all,"

O'Reilly even added: "There wasn't one person in Sylvia's who was screaming, 'M-Fer, I want more iced tea."



Now I don't know what types of restaurants O'Reilly has been in before with black folk, but its plainly clear he was out of touch. What did he expect, people to be climbing all over the seats, swinging from the chandeliers, stealing food off each other's plates? I mean bitch, this ain't no Chuck-E-Cheese or IHOP, this is Sylvia's. Soul Food at it's finest. If you wanted chaos and people cursing at each other then you need to go to Popeye's or the B-K up in Harlem. Then people be all up in ya grillz asking for change and throwing chicken bones around.

I mean I mostly joking of course but you get my point. It's crazy that someone in this day and age thinks it's an "amazing thing" that a restaurant run by "blacks" and frequented by "blacks" can be just as "civilized" as a "white run restaurant".

I mean, Bill...last time I checked you were a business guy and you surely know that "blacks" hold CFO, President, CEO, and other highly influential positions in business. Hell aren't there special publishing features and media reports devoted to the top companies run by minorities? I can't believe you'd be that out of touch with civilization that you think every establishment run by a "minority" is run like a zoo. Now granted there is your occassional exception or two but seriously man...I'm disappointed.


Yo bitch, where my collard greens at!

All I know is that I'm thinking about wearing a Bill O'Reilly costume for this Halloween. I'll show up to Sylvia's or some other "black run restaurant". I'll scream at the workers "yo, motha fucka, where the fuck my chitlins and collard greens at". Everyone will have a good time and laugh. And then I'll take off my costume and sit and enjoy my meal like a civilized human being.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to seek out some fried chicken for lunch. All this talk about it has put me in the mood for some finger lickin goodness!

Ding Dong the Witch is dead!

Ding dong the wicked witch is dead!!!



The wicked witch of the east, the "Queen of Mean", died this morning due to heart failure. Frankly, this is 87 years too long in the making.

Why should I say such evil things about a person? Well because I have a personal vendetta against Helmsley (as do millions of people). Firstly, instead of being a philanthrophist and doing good with her empire of millions (like Brooke Astor), she was a greedy bitch who cared nothing about the less fortunate including her own workers.

Secondly, back in the early 90s when Madison Square Garden was undergoing renovations, she owned (and still does) all of the property across the street from the garden (where Bar Local now stands). Back then the sports bar on the corner was the "Good Old Days", a true NYC sports bar in which every celebrity, past and present would come in to personally sign autographs and memorabilia that hung throughout the bar. Boxing gloves signed by Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali. Basketballs signed by Walt Frazier, Earl Monroe and countless others. Wrestling trunks signed by Hulk Hogan. Ice skates signed by Peggy Fleming. If they performed in the garden, odds are you found a piece of their outfit or equipment at the Good Old Days.

The place was filled with sports memorabilia including old pennants, pictures, baseball cards, etc. You could spend hours (which I did) walking around the bar admiring the history on the walls. I personally had a bunch of the banners given to me from the bar since that was one of my father's top accounts for his airconditioning/refrigeration servicing job. Anyway, once the garden took a year off for renevations business was slow. The bar appealed to Helmsley to give them tax relief to be able to remain in business until the garden reopened for business. Helmsley being the raving bitch that she was said no and the bar was forced to close. The owners reopened bars throughout the city including the now defunct West 4 st. Saloon and the Stoned Crow (in which I stumbled upon a few weeks back, with some of the banners I knew as a child in tact! - more on that at a later date). Helmsley in her typical fashion crushed the spirits of the corner bar, allowing a upscale Chinese fusion restaurant called Beema Grill to move in. I graduated H.S. from the Garden in 1994, in which I walked across the street and spit on the restaurant numerous times, cursuing Helmsley in the process.

Those who know me know my personal dislike for the Queen of Mean. Think I'm alone? Just ask the thousands of workers she personally screwed throughout her career. Or her houseworkers, who quoted her once as saying: "We don't pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes."

That pretty much sums her life up. Fuckin bitch...I hope you rot in hell. And they better bury your ass far away from the city...you've done enough damage here over the years. Stay in Greenwich with the rest of the rich and wealthy assholes who hoard their millions and build their mega houses. I hope they rename all of your properties too, your name doesn't deserve to be anywhere in this city.

What a "turd"!

WARNING...EXTREMELY DISTURBING CONTENT COMING UP. PLEASE DON'T READ NOR BE OFFENDED IF YOU DO READ. JUST WARNING YOU NOW. THANK YOU.




So they are doing construction in our office right now and we're packing up and moving downstairs. Half the floor has moved already so it's just our half that's left. So last night I figured I'd use the bathroom on the empty side of the floor since I had to do my "duty".

Well imagine my surprise when I walk into the bathroom and immediately am greeted by a foul and unpleasant order (obscure Seinfeld reference for you there, 100 points if you can guess the scene). I walk past one of the stalls and see this large black piece of shit "drydocked" in the toilet (meaning above the waterline for those who need a visual). The water was yellow and apparently whoever left behind their mess didn't bother to flush.

It was disgusting and appalling. I nearly threw up and turned to leave immediately. But then of course the blogger in me kicked in so I decided to share with you how disgusting this was.



I held my nose as I took the picture on my cell phone and ran out of there as fast as possible. Suddenly my urge to go was completely gone. The craziest part was how whoever took the shit got it to come out of their ass sideways? Seriously...that's fucking crazy. And how they managed to get it drydocked is beyond me. Actually there is some traces of shit on the bowl so they literally must have been forward in the seat.

I wonder what this guy could've eaten to create such a thick and dense piece of shit? I mean it must've hurt like hell trying to push that through. Well, I may have found my answer. Walking back around the office, I saw a few boxes of food on a shelf.



Yep...the Thunderhead Venison Stew would probably explain it.

Anyway, I debated sharing this with y'all given how gross it really was. A picture doesn't do it justice. But since I've never been one not to share such stories with my dearest and closest friends, consider this my gift to you.

No need to say thanks.

Anyway, I'm off to Michigan for the weekend for a work event. Enjoy your weekend and I'll talk to you on Monday.

Was there a year one?

So Bridget and I are taking the Metro North back to NYC tonight and these two teenage boys are sitting in the seats in front of us across from each other (like typical teenagers they were taking up a group of seats by laying across them). One of the boys says to the other: "man it's crazy...we're gonna be graduating college in like 2013. That's crazy.".

The other teenager just nods and says something like yeah, I can't believe it.

The first teenage now says one of the stupidest things I've EVER heard come out of anyone's mouths (and I've heard some stupid things heard over the years). The teen says: "Yeah, I don't know why they just don't reset years. Like start at 100 or 1000 or something. (long pause) Was there a year one?"

He honestly said that in all sincerity. Was there a year one.

The other teen didn't answer right away and I noticed he shot his friend a "what the fuck" kinda look. Like are you serious dude.

Well the teen who asked said question waited for a response. No chuckle. No "I'm just fuckin with you". He was dead serious.

So the obviously smarter teen said something like "umm, yeah dude...when Christ died they started the calendar after his death. But before that they counted years too."

To which the dumber teen said...oh cool.

Oh cool. Nice. Dude...lay off the fuckin drugs. Seriously. Unless you're planning on enrolling in P.C.U. then you should really make sure you're living on this planet.

Anyway I found it kinda funny. I whispered to Bridget "did you hear what that kid just said". Which she didn't. And I don't blame her. She was wrapped up in reading People magazine. Although after telling her we shared a laugh...and then went back to reading about things that matter most in this world...like celebrities.

I can't believe Prince Charles was caught wearing all of Lady Di's clothes. And Liberace was gay? Who would have saw that coming???

I Love L.A.

So quotheth 2Pac. Not because of the weather. Or the girls. Or the West Coast rap game. Solely because of the Clippers.

The L.A. Clippers.

The beloved perennial losers. The team that turned the franchise around by drafting Peekskill NY product Elton Brand (who I got to see play and meet numerous times when his H.S. team played at Marist).

Why do I love the Clippers now? Cause they drafted Jared Jordan. A 6'1" point guard that played for Marist (my beloved alum).

The little guy that most people said was too small, lacked athleticism, lacked size. The same little guy that was voted MVP of the Greater Hartford Pro Am last year and who wowed NBA scouts all summer.

If you were watching the NBA Draft last night you'll notice that commentator Jay Bilas never had Jared on his "Best Available" picks. He had guys like Ramon Sessions. Tareuan Green. Some guards from Venus and Jupiter. But nary a mention of Jordan.

Of course, ESPN was at a 5 minute commercial break when it was the Clippers turn to pick. I looked up from packing away for the weekend to see "Current Selection: Jared Jordan" followed by more commercials.

They came back from break and did one of those "while you were gone, here are the losers who got drafted" sort of deals. And yes, they showed a few clips of Jordan and follow with more criticism about his size and praise about being the best "pure point guard" in the draft.

But you fucking deprived me of what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear his name called. To have that "oh shit, I can't believe he just got drafted moment". Nope...I had to watch it on a fuckin scroll that I was just fortunate to catch at the right moment.

I don't even know if the crowd booed. Or cheered. Or was impartial. Even Jared Jordan himself was deprived of the experience of hearing his own name called.

http://www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070629/SPORTS0401/706290322

What if he went to take a piss? Or go open another bag of Doritos? He wouldn't have even seen that he had been drafted until 5 minutes after it happened.

So a big FUCK YOU to ESPN for not only depriving Jared Jordan himself, but the rest of the Marist students and alumni at probably one of few times (since it's only happened once before - Rik Smits) we'll get to hear "The so-and-so select (insert player name) from Marist College." Thanks alot for depriving that us ESPN. I hope that fuckin commercial, whatever it was, helped pay your bills this month. I'm so glad you were airing live when these players from Spain and god knows where else were getting drafted considering those foreign players won't even be playing in the fucking league next year thanks to current contracts with their current teams. Because we all had a rooting interest in Giorgio whatshisface from Kazakastan. Way not to show the little guy from the small school getting drafted. You fuckin pricks. Also eat shit Jay Bilas. Shows how much you fucking know. Half of your "best available" list didn't even end up getting drafted. Why don't you do your homework next time and not eat crow on the air.

Anyway, congrats Clippers fans. You'll get to see a player who'll give 100% each and every night on the court (btw...love that Stephen A. Smith said the Knicks were trying to trade down to get Jordan...yeah, I'm sure they were. Because another guard was exactly what they needed. Assholes). Hopefully when the Clippers come to town they'll destroy the Knicks. And I can laugh as I watch Jordan dish assist after assist to Brand. And laugh when the crowd turns on the Knicks and cheers for the little guy that could.

Anyway...off for the weekend! Enjoy everyone!

Books of Enrichment

Before I lead you to some reading material that will undoubtedly enrich your mind (and other body parts), I'm taking the elevator up to work this am and these two white guys get on. They start talking about Kobayashi and how he can't compete because of his hurt jaw. They called him a pussy and said what did he, pull his ACL or something.

Listen jackass. A competitive eater kinda needs his/her jaw to compete, don'cha think? So it is like pulling an ACL. Why don't you think before you speak you fuckin moron. You know what, let me punch you in the jaw a few times and let me see how good you do trying to eat 50 hot dogs in 12 minutes. Asshole.

Anyway, saw this list of recommended reading material (ok maybe it wasn't as much recommended as it was listed) over at RationReality.com. Pretty good stuff. This list of books include:

White Trash Etiquette: The Definitive Guide to Upscale Trailer Park Manners


White Trash Etiquette contains everything you need to know to live like decent trash, including:

• The proper way to fake a back injury
• How to prevent your in-laws from stealing the silverware at wedding receptions
• The Ten Hottest White Trash Career Opportunities
• How to improve your drunk-driving skills
• Sound advice on everything from lying to your boss to making your next convenience-store robbery fun for the whole family

There’s also troubleshooting for troublemakers:

• I'm getting married; can I still wear white if I'm a tramp?
• Can chicks ever really respect an accountant?
• How do I pick a good bail bondsman?
• How can I get my 14-year-old cousin unpregnant?

The Art of Auto-fellatio: Oral Sex for One


The ultimate in safe sex -- self-performed oral pleasure at any hour of the day! If you've ever dreamed about this practice, this book can make your fantasy a reality. Packed with photos, advice, stories and training tips by men who know what they're doing!

Forgive the hype: this is also a serious examination of the history (through a variety of reports) and application of self-performed oral sex. It's both a fascinating examination of social perceptions and cultural mores, and a guide to specifics.

Other notable books on the list include:
The Official Rock Paper Scissors Strategy Guide
Forensics for Dummies

Good stuff! And you can buy all these books on Amazon.com! Although the whole "Art of Auto-Fellatio thing" i'm not so sure about. I lack the inner-core strength needed to bend completely over. Plus I'm not too sure about giving myself "fellatio". I kinda think Rosie Palm and her five friends would get a little jealous. Although maybe if I got really really drunk one night and my hands fell asleep or weren't working right then I'd consider trying to go down on myself if I needed to fulfill an urge.

Wait. WHAT AM I SAYING??? I know there's that saying oh, if you could give yourself a blow job you'd never need a girl or never leave the house or something to that effect. But when you think about it would you really do it? I mean, then you have to worry about choking on your own pubes. What happens when it's time to cum??? Do you let it fly or do you swallow? Didn't think about that one did you? And what happens when you get into a fight with yourself? Do you call yourself a cum-sucking whore? If someone tells you to go "suck a dick" would you take it personally knowing you sucked yours?

Yeah...so needless to say I won't be sucking my own dick until these questions are answered. If someone buys the book feel free to let me know if any of those questions are addressed please. Enquiring minds want to know!

What a "Pant-load"!

Chalk this one up to the ole Jay Leno "Have you seen this? Have you heard about this?". It seems that a judge in Washington D.C. is suing a dry cleaners for losing a pair of his pants.

The suit is for $54 million dollars!

Yes...a judge is suing a dry cleaners for $54 million. You read that right.

The $54 million breaks down as follows:

The judge believes he is entitled to $1,500 for each day during which the "Satisfaction Guaranteed" sign and another sign promising "Same Day Service" was up in the store -- more than 1,200 days since he's had his prized pants (he's also multiplying each violation by three because he's suing the husband and wife owners and their son.)

He also wants $500,000 in emotional damages and $542,500 in legal fees, even though he is representing himself in court.

He wants $15,000 for 10 years' worth of weekend car rentals as well, so he can transport his dry cleaning to another store.

All for a pair of pants that the dry cleaners say were found and they tried to return to him, but they were denied.

The judge is suing on the grounds that he has had "mental suffering, inconvenience and discomfort" since he couldn't wear his favorite pair of pants on his first day on the job.

Apparently the judge was also banned from these same dry cleaners just a few years prior after he had another problem with a lost pair of pants. And he begged them to reallow him to be a customer since the judge doesn't drive and these are the most convenient dry cleaners for him.

Anyway the case has been in trial for the past week or so. The judge, acting as his own lawyer, called 60+ witnesses to the stand to testify against the dry cleaners in question. You can read some of the testimony and response to the story on: http://blog.washingtonpost.com/offbeat/

How this guy is able to practice law is beyond me. Just shows you what a fuckin farse our legal system is when assholes like this are able to get appointed. I hope the judge decides that he owes the dry cleaners $54 million...just for being an asshole.

Actually his punishment should be he has to hand wash all of the clothing in the dry cleaners for a year. That would teach him to sue.

"Would you show a little courtesy?"

So I'm in the elevator this morning with another woman and the door is starting to close. As the door is more than half way closed, this lady frantically sticks her arm in to open the door. The door keeps closing on her arm so she moves in between the closing door. The door, which normally would spring back open doesn't. The woman looks at me and says "Would you show a little courtesy and open the door for me instead of just watching?" I go and hit the open door button and the door releases its death grip on her.

Instead of saying thank you the lady berates me for not helping her out. Normally that would be grounds for me to rip her to shreds with a verbal tirade she probably had never heard the likes of. But I was in a good mood so I bit my tongue and calmly said "Next time you shouldn't throw your body into the doors it's not a very safe thing to do". That of course wasn't good enough for this lady who kept barking at me about how inconsiderate I was to leave her stuck and blah blah blah.

Listen you little witch. It's not my fault you tried to stick your appendages into a closing door last second. If the door was just starting to close that would be one thing. But the door was well past the half way closing point. That's when you step away and wait 2 seconds for the next elevator. Especially when the door doesn't respond to you trying to open it. But nope, this woman felt the need to shove her whole body in the door, basically risking getting herself trapped.

The other lady in the elevator with me gets out on the same floor and we look at each other and laugh. She was like "that bitch was rude". At least that made me feel better knowing I was in the clear.

But all in all I'm shocked at myself for showing restraint. Normally one to fly off the handle rather quickly, I stayed composed and calm. No talking about her momma. No making fun of her little house on the prairie outfit. No talking about her hair which looks like it hadn't been cut since 1985. Nothing.

I think its the humidity. It beats me down. Takes away my spunk. I don't do well in the humidity. My internal temperature runs hot as it is...the humidity just overheats me.

Anyway off to a meeting...I'll be back shortly with some funnier news for you.

"Bat" Man

Last night sitting in the bleachers at the Yankees game I was sitting in front of this older couple, probably in their 50s. They looked like they just got off the bus from Woodstock, with their long white hair and shoddy clothing. However they seemed nice and they were definitely avid Yankee fans. The lady however was cheering for everything. She even cheered loudly when the corporate sponsor for umbrella day was acknowledged before the game. Who cheers for the corporate sponsor??? But the worst part was her whistle. She emitted this ultra-high pitched whistle that I think most dogs would cover their ears listening too. It was deafening. I'm still hearing some of the feedback in my ear. She whistled and clapped for everything. Mussina threw a ball? "Come on Mooooseeee let's get it back" followed by loud claps and her shreiking whistle. Wil Nieves struck out again? Whistle, clap, whistle. "Get em next time Willie!"

I mean don't get me wrong, I'm all for cheering at games. But jesus christ lady...be aware of people sitting in front of you when you're whistling. And there's really no need to whistle for a foul ball. Honestly. If Mussina's pitch count was 66 by the 5th inning, her whistle count was in the 100's. Eventually I became deaf enough in my right ear that it stopped fazing me. But 2 or 3 people actually moved their seats because of her loud cheering. Thankfully I left in the 7th inning to avoid any further damage to my ear drums. What's that? Huh? Sorry thought someone was calling my name.

Anyway, sorry to vent about that...I think that's just my ear speaking out in frustration. Although it could have been worse. I could have been this guy (click for larger image):



I think the funniest part of the picture is how he's the only one not defending himself from the bat. People a few seats over have their hands raised or are covering themselves. The people on the left side look like they're watching a horror film and are screaming. But this guy just took the bat on the chin. According to the caption he suffered a broken rib...but not sure how he didn't break his jaw. Then again he's wearing an Ireland shirt, so I'm sure he's used to getting hit in the face. (I'll take Irish stereotypes for $200 please).

Ooooh...what's that, someone just said there's donuts in the conference room. I'm so there. Be back with more later...


Mmmm....donuts

Post blog note: hmm...so turns out I'm just hearing things...no donuts. damn...that lady really fucked my ear up!

"Sue" City

So last night I saw that Borat (Sasha Baron Cohen) is being sued again based on a clip that appeared in the movie Borat. The man doing the suing is Jeffrey Lemerond, a 31 year old geeky Wall Street financial analyst, who was shown in the movie running furiously away from Borat as he tried to give him a hug. Obviously Mr. Lemerond, who went to "Dartmouth" and therefore has no sense of humor, has suffered “public ridicule, degradation and humiliation” as a result of his appearance in the film. Apparently he's suing on grounds he never gave consent to appear in the film.

Here's the link to the article and also the video clip from the movie and analysis from CNBC: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19103391/

Well of course they never got consent you douchebag...you were too busy running your ass off like a chicken shit. I think the other guy who told Borat he'd "break his fucking face" if he tried to touch him looked like even more of a douchebag in the movie (douchebag IS the word of the day btw).


The word of the day is Douchebag!

The New York City scenes in the movie cracked me up, probably because I live here...but the chicken on the subway scene was great. Especially when he told the passengers "Be careful he bite" as the chicken was flying around the subway. I need to get the movie on DVD...I'm cracking up just thinking about it.

Anyway, point is, yes these guys made a big fool out of themselves in a movie that millions saw around the world. But you know what, they should embrace the fact that they looked like douchebags (AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!). I'd be like, yeah, I ran from Borat...but I'm a "celebrity" now. I mean look at William Hung. He made more of an ass out of himself than anyone in recent history and now he's got his own record deal and will forever be "infamous".

I'm sorry that the little sissy got his feelings hurt. He didn't know his running away act was gonna be filmed for one of the most popular movies of all time. But maybe he should of stopped and talked to Borat instead of running away. I mean he must have saw the camera right? He could have said sorry I don't want to appear in this movie. And that would've been the end of it. Better yet, they could have easily just had the camera running on a tripod and filmed his likeness walking by, and thus he would've been in the movie.

Hell, most of us have probably been in movies or TV shows walking around in the background of some street scene. Not all movies are filmed in roped off little areas. Sometimes you just get establishing shots with people walking by. You think everyone in the movie Midnight Cowboy signed a release to appear in the film? How bout Tootsie? Thousands of people were filmed walking down the streets in those movies. Some were probably picking their nose or wearing embarassing clothing. Did they sue? No.

So the fact that he ran is really his fault. Maybe next time he shouldn't be such a mama's boy. Although he's making even more of an ass of himself now by suing. Just look at this headline (click image to read the article):



Ouch! I mean really...Jeffrey. Look what you've done now! Instead of just taking a ribbing from people that know you, now you're getting lambasted all over the internet. Good work. Hope that lawsuit goes well for you. You've should have just said, you know what guys...I'm a pussy. I ran away like a chicken shit. But you know what...at least I'm famous now. Nope...instead he's crying wolf. And you know what happened to the boy who cried wolf. He got his ASS BEAT!!!

That ain't right!

So I walk into the bathroom before and open the stall door. I look down and see shit stains on the seat. Not on the back of the seat, but on the front of the seat and the middle area between the seat.

What the fuck? I mean seriously, did someone basically shit their pants and it all got over the seat? Were they unaligned on the bowl that badly??? Were they acting in a German Schizer video?

Come on man...if you're gonna "miss", at least wipe the seat down. Fuckin gross. But I guess people just "leave it to the janitor". Well you know what asshole, janitor's are people too! I was a janitor for a summer and had to clean shit off toilets because of scumbags like you. Fuckin asshole. Go shit on your toilet seat at home like that and see what happens. If you're married, your ass is on the couch for the next year. If you're single, you have to clean after yourself. So why shouldn't the workplace be any different. Unreal.

P.S. I would've taken picture of said seat but figured that would be completely crossing the line and grossing everyone out. So just take it from me...it wasn't a pretty sight.

Dancin' Fool

Before I begin...a big asshole of the day goes to the lady who blatently cut me off on the way up the stairs getting off the 6 train at 33rd street this morning. Not only did she cut me off when there was no one behind me. She then proceeded slowly up the stairs in the middle of the stairway so I could neither pass her left or right. Then when she got to the top of the stairs, she was confused about where she was so she just stopped and stood there while I almost plowed into her. Then she shuffled her feet slowly in the same direction I was heading. Thanks lady...so glad you cut me off only to not know where the fuck you're going. Smart move.

Anyway...today is Friday...which is casual Friday in my office. So that means you can wear jeans (no official verdict on whether Hawaiian shirts are allowed). However today I'm breaking the rules. I'm being a rebel. I'm wearing shorts. Yes shorts. Why? Because why should guys have to suffer wearing collared shirts and pants why girls get to wear next to nothing on hot summer days. Like it's fair that I have to sweat my ass off in pants on a 90 degree day while some girl gets to wear a wife beater and a loose skirt. As Al Bundy would say...No Ma'am! Granted some may say they don't want to see a guy's flabby arms and hairy legs...and girls are much better to look at. But I have nice legs...so why shouldn't I be able to show them off too? Plus there's next to no ventilation in this office so I'd be a much more productive employee at a cooler temperature rather then having to worry about sweating through my shirt and pants. So today, shorts it is unless someone has the guts to tell me otherwise. I think I smell a reform in the workplace coming on. Men of the world UNITE!

So I was shocked to see that Akeelah didn't win the spelling bee last night. I knew it was rigged! But I got home in time to watch the last finalists duke it out. Here's one of the last contestants getting bounced from the competition.



And here's the eventual champion spelling his final word for the title.



Although if you didn't see it, the new champion, Evan O'Dorney gave one of the worst post winning interviews ever. Granted he was probably in shock. But Stuart Scott asked him what prepared him for this competition. And the kid, stumbling with a "just going through puberty like any teenage boy would voice" was like...umm...i like math...and the construction of math equations helped me learn how to break down words. It was painful to listen too. I actually turned the TV off. Poor kid. But congrats to him. You're now gonna be forever known as that Spelling Bee kid. Good luck getting your ass kicked in High School...see how fast you can spell wedgie.

The other painful TV moment last night came during Do You Think You Can Dance. I flipped through the channels just in time to see this doozy of an audition:



Um...yeah...she got moves that's for sure. She put Chris Brown too shame fa shizzle for nizzle. Although what you missed in this clip was Shane (one of the judges) saying...Do you know this competition? Do you know what we're looking for? The girl shook her head no. We're looking for athletic dancers. Not overweight dancers. You're gonna get killed on this show.

Ouch...brutually honest. Had this been American Idol there would have been a huge uproar. But since no one is watching Think You Can Dance, I'm sure not a peep will be made. Not even from the Fat Persons of America Coalition. But definitely a very "holy crap did he just say that" TV moment right there. Good stuff.

Anyway, it's Friday. The weekend is here. Time to slather on that tanning oil or SPF 2000 and soak up some rays...and some alcohol! Remember, as this sign says:


Your liver is evil and must be destroyed!

Enjoy your weekend everyone!

Lady...it wouldn't kill ya...

So last night I got on the uptown 4 train at Bowling Green and at Wall St. this rather "weighty" (to say it politely) lady sat next to me. She sat down with a bag of McDonalds on her lap and starting eating. At this point I was starving having just played racquetball for almost 2 hours so the smell of fries and burgers was making my stomach grumble. She opens the bag and I peer in. She had like 4 quarter pounders with cheese and an overflowing portion of fries. I tried not to stare as she devoured fries and burgers.

Anyway, at 14th street, a very skinny and sickly looking homeless man came onto the train looking for some change or food. I actually had no bills smaller than $20 lest I would have given him some change. The lady, seeing that the man was approaching, stuffed a hunk of burger in her mouth and rolled up her bag of McDonald's. Not sure if the guy saw her or not but as he politely asked her if she could spare some change or food, she shook her head no as she tried to chew her food slowly. The guy stared at her for a few seconds and then walked away.

I mean really...lady...it wouldn't kill you to spare one of the burgers in your bag. Unless you were bringing it home for your family...which it appeared that you weren't, I think you could've done without an extra cheeseburger. I mean I'm sure the 2,000 calories you already downed with the burgers and fries didn't come close to filling you up. But if you ever even complained about being fat...well...now you know why.

I looked at her in disbelief and disgust. A guy across from me looked at me and shook his head and we smiled. Cause he was thinking the same thing I was. You fucking fat ass...spare a fucking cheeseburger... (at least I think that's what he was thinking - it was what I was thinking). Anyway, its a good thing I had my "inner voice" working lest I would have created a messy situation. And that wouldn't have been good.

Anyway, been stuck in a land of work today so many apologies for the late blog. That and I'm heading to Nashville tomorrow for a work event. Maybe I'll run into my girl Gretchen and she can show me a rootin tootin good time down there! Although I'll need to download some country onto my iPod to get me caught up on the latest country hits. And I may have to have Bridget give me some quick line dancing lessons. I wouldn't want to be the only one not doing the "Boot Scootin' Boogie" at the bar!


"Oh get down, turn around go to town boot scootin' boogie"

Anyway...sorry for the short and sweet post for now...I'll try to give y'all something good before we hit the holiday weekend!

Oh and btw...about American Idol...TOLD YOU SO! America loves a crier!

Bar fight – the story

So as promised (and because I know everyone’s been patiently waiting for it) here’s the story of the bar fight we witnessed in London.

Bridget (my girlfriend), Abriana (my sister) and I were exploring the East London area visiting the popular Indian/Bangladesh street known as Brick Lane. Brick Lane is home to some of the best Indian/Bangladeshi food in all of London so we figured we check out what all the hype was about.

We got to the strip around 5pm but alas all of the restaurants weren’t open till 5:30. So we decided to visit the only Irish bar on the strip next to one of the restaurants we wanted to try, called The Archers.



The Archers is a small corner bar, with an inside wooden frame and hints of smoke in the air. The bar contains a few bar stools and some side tables for seating. A very no frills type of bar, serving no food just alcohol.

There were only 4 other patrons in the bar when we walked in. Sitting at the bar was an English man, probably mid 50s in age, and a Russian couple, around the same age. Another younger guy of Indian/Bangladeshi decent was at the bar too, coming in and out.

There were three workers at the bar, two females and a male, who was the manager of the bar. I walked up to the bar and the Russian guy was talking to one of the female bartenders who appeared to be Russian. He was asking her where she was from Russia. She basically ignored him and just poured the glass of vodka he was asking for. The Russian man paid for his drinks and upon getting his change asked for change in paper (he received coin pounds for change). When she said that that was his change he mumbled something incoherently and proceed to pound his shot of vodka. The bartender poured my beers and I brought them to the table where we were sitting, which was right behind the Russian couple.


Bridget and I with our beers moments before the fight erupted. The Russian man is behind my shoulder

No more than a minute later, the Russian man starts raising the back of his hand to the female bartender. The female bartender backed away and told the man to leave the bar. The male manager, a slight Indian man, about 5’5” tall and maybe 150 lbs soaking wet came over and took the man’s shot glass away and said something to the effect of “no more, you’re cut off”. The Russian man didn’t take too kindly to that, and grabbed a beer mug and smashed it on one of the taps of the bar. The Russian man was a bulking man, about 6’2” tall and easily over 250 lbs. Plus he was stumbling, incoherently drunk. He took the broken glass and started threatening the Indian male with it. In response, the Indian man broke a glass of his own and threatened the Russian man right back.

We decided at that point we should get out of harm’s way so we moved to the side. The Russian man proceed to drop his broken glass and pick up a bar stool. He cracked the bar stool on the ground, breaking the legs off. He swung the bar stool across the bar, knocking over a few more mugs in the process. Sensing this was about to get out of control, we quickly gathered our stuff and left the bar. Bridget, being the smart Irish woman she is, grabbed her beer and took it outside. My sister and I, left our beers on the table inside as chair swinging and glass breaking continued. Seeing that our full beers were sitting on the table, I ran back in, retrieved our prize possessions and ran back outside looking for anyone to call the police.

While asking the friendly Indian neighbors to call the cops we were left with blank stares. I yelled out, “can anyone call the police….anyone…policia?” met with utter silence. One person asked what’s going on in there and I said your bar is being destroyed. They shook it off like it was no big deal. It was like only gun shots may have prompted a call to the cops.

Peering back inside the bar, the Russian man went to the side of the bar to get behind the bar. The Indian man took a stool of his own to cut off his path. The Indian man held his own despite the 6 or 7 inch height difference, shouting to the male to leave. The younger Indian gentleman at the bar tried to calm the Russian down…but to no avail. The wife of course just stood there idly with no control over her husband. I mean if the guy was willing to hit a female bartender why wouldn’t he hit his wife?

In the meantime my sister decided to call the cops. The fight inside continued with another stool being broken and glass strewn about the floor. The bar manager had his back against the wall and fought off the Russian valiantly. Finally after 5 minutes of back and forth of jousting, screaming and pleading, the Russian man left the bar.

We walked back inside the bar and the bar manager was catching his breath and white as a ghost (maybe not white…but white as he could be for his skin tone). The female bartender started sweeping up the glass and picking up the broken stools. We informed them we had called the cops, which apparently didn’t go over well with them (seems like they didn’t want to be bothered). The Russian man stumbled outside and his female companion came back into the bar to get their change they apparently left on the bar! Some fuckin nerve huh? You destroy a bar, then come back in to get your change. In the states, they would have been tossed out in the streets and wouldn’t dare come back. But since this bar was “outmanned” size wize they had no muscle to enforce their own defense.

Anyway, the female bartender gave the lady back her change to avoid any further trouble. The couple stumbled away, going around the corner. I kept tabs on their whereabouts along with the other Indian gentleman who was helping to diffuse the fight. They had gone into a store next door and minutes later the cops had arrived (nothing like a timely arrival guys). We instantly directed them in the direction of the gentlemen but meanwhile it looked like nothing had happened to the bar. All of the glass was swept up, and the broken chairs were disposed with. The police were confused when they came in, but we had to point them to all of the broken glass that was swept up to even show an indication of the fight. I mean, really, I’d be like, look what that fuck did to my bar. Its like the bar manager didn’t even care.


The bar back to normal after the brawl

The cops eventually arrested and placed the Russian in the paddywagon. Apparently he had finished 7 beers at the liquor store next door by the time the cops got to him. That’s 7 beers in about 3 minutes if you’re counting at home. One cop came into the bar to take statements, and my sister, since she called the cops, was elected to go off and provide her statements.

The bar manager chose not to press charges against the Russian man. Instead of thanking us we basically got an annoyed look from them like we’re the ones who caused trouble. Well excuse us for caring, maybe you would have thought differently had your throat been slashed to your veins. You think they would have bought us a round of drinks? Nope. They just went about their normal business, albeit a bit shaken by the events that just transpired. I asked the bar manager if they have fights often and he said not really…that’s the first one he’s had in a year.

Anyway, after my sister was cross-examined by the police and gave her statement the cop told us to get out of the neighborhood by sunlight. Apparently East London is rough and tumble and not a place to venture at night.

Anyway, I guess you had to be there to witness the fight. I've seen my share of bar fights before, but never one that was such a mismatch in size. I had a camera on me and I was tempted to take pictures and video, but didn't want to have my camera confiscated as evidence. I would have tried to break up the fight as well, if I was in my own country and knew the bar. But in a foreign country trying to break up a fight between a drunk Russian and an Indian with broken mugs in their hands as weapons I was wise to stay out of it. Besides, I think America's done enough meddling in foreign countries...I don't need to add to that persona!

Stay tuned for my food reviews and other comments about my journey to the UK.

Terrible call...just terrible

So last night I was at the Yankees game with Bridget, Paul and Juliana (thanks to Juliana for getting corporate seats for last night’s game that were only 13 rows off the field allowing me to scalp my meager bleacher seats). In typical Yankees fashion they failed to score any runs with runners in scoring position, leaving the bases loaded once and leaving 6 runners in scoring position for the game. Just one hit in that situation would have yielded at least one run – but clutch this team is not.

Anyway, they actually got a decent pitching performance from their rookie starter Matt DeSalvo, who went 7 strong innings, only giving up 1 run on 3 hits (2 of which came in the first inning). Nursing a 2-1 lead in the 8th, Kyle Farnsworth came on to pitch. With two outs, Jose Vidro hit a cheap ground ball up the middle just past the reach of Jeter. Willie Bloomquist came on as a pinch runner for Vidro. What happened next will go down as one of the worst calls in major league history – and I was there to witness it first hand.

Bloomquist tried to steal second. Posada’s throw was on line and Robinson Cano applied the tag in plenty of time to tag out the stealing Bloomquist. However the umpire called him safe.

Safe.

Take a look at this picture.



How many feet was he out by? Three? Four? And he was called safe.

You can view the video recap of the game to see the replays

Granted the game is played at full speed, but still, it was plainly obvious to everyone in the stadium that he was out by a mile. Even using the cardinal rule of “the ball beating the player” would have been excuse enough to call him out. But come on dude that wasn’t a hard one to make. It wasn’t even close to being a “bang bang” play. The umpire, Gerry Davis, flat out blew the call. Mr. Davis will now go down in infamy as making one of the worst umpiring calls in recent memory. Right there along with the infamous Don Denkinger call in game 6 of the 1985 World Series between the Cardinals and the Royals that ultimately cost the Cardinals the game and the series.



There’s also a famous portrait out there that shows an ump making a safe call at first when the player was out by a few feet. It wasn’t a Normal Rockwell, but something similar. Despite searching this “wealth of information” we call the “internet”, alas I can’t find shit on it. But I used to have the damn picture so I know it exists. Maybe I’ll have to dig it up tonight at my parent’s house.

Anyway, back to the game. Much to my surprise, Don Mattingly, who was filling in as manager due to a suspended Joe Torre, didn’t come out to argue the call. Cano hopped away thinking he made the tag but didn’t raise a fuss. The call was that bad it was shocking. But the Yankees lack any fire and passion this season so they didn’t argue the call. If I were them I’d be hopping mad. I’d scream in the umps face. Make him throw me out. But nope, they went along with their “gentlemanly play”. If that was Paul O’Neill out there he would’ve argued until they carried him off with police escorts. Same with Billy Martin or Lou Pinella. But nope…this team has a much passion as a quilting night at a senior citizens home.


You know damn well Zimmer would’ve protested the call last night, helmet and all

Granted, the call was completely terrible, but you got to score more runs than 2, especially with the offense the Yankees have.

But the game will be remembered for the bad call. Even if it’s “only May” and the call was not made in a crucial playoff or World Series game thus it may not get the attention it deserves. But it should. Because it should go down as one of the worst baseball calls of all time.

Thankfully for my own sanity I had the salvation of a Starbucks Iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte this morning to put me in a better mood. That, along with an Apple Fritter, made my morning much cheerier thanks to the impending sugar rush that came along with the meal. Oh Iced Cinnamon Dolce Latte with Whipped Cream, how do I love thee, let me count the ways!

Bitterly Disappointing

Well the weather wasn’t disappointing this weekend. That’s for damn sure. The Yankees were extremely disappointing this weekend. But that’s to be expected since Joe Torre over-manages each game to the fullest. Plus it’s not like the Red Sox haven’t faced Mariano Rivera 1,000 times in the past 10 years. No surprises there. I don’t care if he’s the best closer ever. When you face a team a gazillion times they are gonna know you like a book. But I’ve said my piece about that to whoever would listen to me over the weekend.

But the most bitterly disappointing moment this weekend came at the hands of one of my beloved childhood memories, the WWF Wrestling Ice Cream Bar (or WWE Ice Cream Bar as it’s now called).

Firstly, you know how passionate I am about Good Humor based on my post just a few weeks back on how Good Humor should sponsor Good Friday. Knowing that Mr. Softee now reigns supreme in the Big Apple, we were extremely shocked that we saw a Good Humor truck on Sunday outside Carl Shultz Park on the UES. And frankly we were a little disappointed since we were hunting for a Mr. Softee truck so Bridget could get a shake. But who can be disappointed when the Good Humor truck is around?! I was especially thrilled since I haven’t seen one in a long time. Bridget, Avi and Lauren probably could’ve cared less, but nonetheless shared in my excitement over getting any ice cream on a warm April day.


Searching for Mr. Softee, we came across the rare NYC Good Humor truck

The choices of course were endless. The Strawberry Shortcake, the Chipwich, the Chocolate Éclair…all of the favorite Good Humor Ice Cream’s from day’s yore. Lauren opted for one of the frozen flavored pops (lime flavored). Avi went with the classic King Kone. Bridget opted for a Chocolate Éclair and a Chipwich (to share with me of course). But I my friends hit paydirt. Lo and behold, a WWF Ice Cream Sandwich bar!! Holy fucking shit. They still make them. And they’re only $2 to boot! Just a 50 cent markup from 20 years ago! Unreal! How many products can you say where just 50 cents more expensive than 20 years ago???


The ice cream bar, unlike its predecessors, came in a cardboard box rather than a plastic wrapper.

As Hulk Hogan was on the cover of the sample bar on the front of the box, I figured I may get a Hogan imprint on the cookie side of the bar (the bar is a sandwich of chocolate, ice cream and cookie dough for those not in the know). Although a picture of John Cena (the current WWE champ) was pictured on the box so I thought maybe I’d get him. Even though I longed for one of the classics, like an Andre the Giant, I was willing to settle for a John Cena or Rey Mysterio bar.

I ripped open the box like a 5 year old rips opens a Christmas present. I see the chocolate side first and then turn the bar over. And the wrestler is…………………



Blank? Blank???? The bar is fucking blank!!!! Are you fucking kidding me??? I felt immediately let down and rejected. That’s probably the most disappointed I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I put my head down in shame and shuffled my feet. I was practically inconsolable. Tears welled in my eyes (ok, maybe not that far, but if I was alone they may have!). I can’t believe it. All that excitement. The buildup. The nostalgia. And the bar is fucking blank.

So a big fuck you to the WWE. No wonder why your product sucks and no one watches you anymore! Bastards. Way to ruin a 29 year olds day. And not to mention the HUGE false advertising on their behalf!! Why put a picture of an imprint of a bar on the outside of your packaging and then have a blank inside? That’s like Oreo basically giving you a picture of an Oreo imprint cookie on the outside of the packaging and then when you take a cookie out you get a smooth, plain, no imprint chocolate shell on the outside. What fun would that be? You think people would enjoy Oreos if the chocolate wasn’t imprinted with the brand name? Definitely not. Cause then you’d be eating a generic chocolate cookie with cream filling. That’s essentially what this was. A generic ice cream bar. I mean are times at the WWE that bad that they can’t afford to imprint their wrestlers on a cookie?? Unreal.

I think I was more disappointed about the stupid ice cream bar then about the Yankees losing. I expected the Yanks to lose. I didn’t expect to get a blank ice cream bar. Major disappointment!

Vinny Goombaats

So I was at the Rangers playoff game with Rich last night (which was an absolute blowout, 7-0 blueshirts). Between periods we always hang out in the lobby landing with a nice view of the 8th avenue/34th street area (especially from the “blue” section which is way at the top for those who haven’t been to the garden before). Anyway we’re standing there talking to a bunch of people about the 1st period and this guy is lingering around the beer cart waiting for his beer to be poured. He was your typical contractor type guy -100% Italian, a stocky build (probably like 5’8”, 240 lb) and very “hey, how you doin’ ish"). He even had on his company’s T-shirt, I forgot the name of the construction company and this guy gets closer to us and says “Hey...yo, you happen to be Nets fans?”

If he was really eavesdropping on us he would’ve heard me say I hate the NBA. Maybe he needs one of those Listen Up devices. Anyway, we all kind of respond we hate the NBA and continue to talk about hockey.

Well what does Vinny Goombaats do but keep talking to me about basketball. Didn’t you just hear what we said?? Anyway, this “blowhard” (as Rich called him) starts telling me that he just remodeled Jason Kidd’s granite countertops in his kitchen. Rich and the other guys wisely turned away from this guy but I was trapped. Figures. “Yeah, it was like 400 square feet of granite…$50,000 worth of granite. His countertops are bigger than this whole area” says Mr. Goombaats. I nod in a half I don’t give a shit, half “good for you spider”. Well does he stop there…nope…he proceeds to tell me how Jason Kidd gave him courtside tickets for the Nets games for the season. “You look for me courtside…I’m the one sitting behind Jay-Z”.


My life is now complete. I met the guy who does Jason Kidd's kitchen.

"You know, I'm doing his garage do. All tiles. $25,000 job. I'm doin' it for free. He gave me 2 courtside tickets all season. I'm doing the job for free."

Dude…if you’re trying to impress me, I really don’t give a shit about your courtside tickets. Am I jealous? Sure. But honestly I’d be more impressed if I was 15…not 30. Anyway, he goes on and on about how he hangs out with players and all this bs. I’m sure he was telling the truth, but he was just one of these guys who likes to flaunt his big shot status.

After trying to ignore him doesn’t work, Mr. hot shot proceeds to ask me if I watch the Sopranos. I tell him I don’t get HBO but he proceeds to tell me two of the Sopranos are at the game tonight, he was hanging out with them before the game. Ok…I get the point. You’re “important”. Now just leave me and my Guinness alone.

Our friend Tara and her friend come over to talk. You think this guy would get the hint and walk away. Nope. He continues to pester me with questions. Like there’s not 18,200 other people you can talk to right now.

“Hey, you like the Yankees right?” No shit Sherlock, I’m wearing a Yankees hat. I give him a nod and point to my head knowing where this is going.

“I live up in Larchmont. My wife’s flower shop delivers flowers to Joe Torre’s wife twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. Anytime we need tickets we slip a note with the flowers saying hey Joe, gimme two. Bamn, (he gives me a 'hand on the counter' sign for emphasis) next time we deliver, we got 2 tickets, right behind the dugout.” That’s great…glad scumbags like you get the good seats while good people like me have to buy season tickets just to sit in the bleachers.

He taps me on the arm. “Hey. You know what Jeter and Bernie drive? They have a no motorcycle clause in their contract. They drive mopeds. I went out to dinner with them last year. Nice mopeds too.”

What else you gonna tell me next? George Steinbrenner sucks you off every Friday? You were an extra in Goodfellas?


Surprised that "goomba johnny" didn’t tell me he just did the cast of Goodfellas' kitchens.

After a brief delay so he could chug his beer he taps me again. “Hey, you like clams?”. I mean seriously, what is it with this guy?

I decide to indulge him. “Yeah, I grew up in Brooklyn, I love clams”. “Man you gotta come up to this place in New Rochelle. You know New Rochelle?” I indulge him with a nod yes. “Man, you gotta go. It’s right off the docks. You know that factory near the docks? Down the street from there. Best baked clams. I go there every week. I know the owners. If you want to go just tell them you’re here to see John.”

I basically tuned out the rest of his verbal barrage about this place in New Rochelle so I didn't remember the name of it. After about 20 seconds of pretending to listen I check in again. “You know, if you like Jazz and good food, come down to Oakland New Jersey. There’s this place Ruga. R-U-G-A. Great Jazz on Friday night. Are those your girlfriends?” he asks while pointing to Tara and her friend. “No, just friends of ours” I reply. “Oh, ok, well if you want, bring your friends down to Ruga. Ask for Johnny. I’ll take care of you. I’m there every Friday night. Come look for me”.

At this point I seriously had enough. Thank god the period was about to start so this asshole finally left me alone. Rich turns to me and says “Dude, what the fuck was that about?” Unreal…he basically talked my ear off for 15 minutes. I told Rich he was some hot shot who was friends with Jason Kidd and the Sopranos stars and Joe Torre. Then we look at each other and almost at the same time ask, “So if he’s so important, why the fuck is he sitting in the blues?” I mean if this guy is such a hotshot surely he could’ve gotten tickets up front? Or on the bench even? I mean the way he was going I was expecting him to say he was doing James Dolan’s kitchen. Or banging Brendan Shanahan's wife. (Yeah, you know Brendan. Yeah, I'm banging his wife).

Anyway, I guess you had to be there to see this guy in action. Luckily he didn’t come back to chat between the 2nd and 3rd periods. Maybe he found another friend to talk to.

Anyway I’m surprised I remember the restaurant. Maybe because he mentioned it 20 times in 30 seconds. The website is RugaRestaurant.com. The place looks cool although I don’t think I would ever go there thanks to this idiot. Last thing I need is to go there and have this schmuck on wheels see me and talk to me for 2 hours.

Stuff like this only happens to me though. Seriously. I must have a sign above me that says talk to me. Impress me. Blow smoke up my ass. Unreal.