I mean seriously, what is up with this crap? It's funny now that the guy is so wrong, but have you taken the time to notice what has become of sportswriting in the newspaper?
The most interesting thing about sports newspaper columns these days is just how bad they are compared to basically anything on espn.com or about 800 blogs, even when I happen to agree with what the author is saying. Most of what Malik has written in two months is better than anything I've read in the Orlando Sentinel EVER. I mean seriously, read this column - it's just attrocious writing, perhaps even worse than my own.
When bomb throwers like former Sentinel columnist Larry Guest were the only game in town, they would annoy me. Now that they're basically irrelevant, I just pity the editorial staff at places like the Orlando Sentinel and Florida Times-Union who actually believe that random inflammatory remarks and this hokey, arrogant "look at me, look at me!" writing style still qualify as good sportswriting. (This style completely permeates Florida sportswriting - tell me, can you think of anything else anywhere that's written in this ridiculous, banal style day after day? The Florida Times-Union opinion section is like reading some pre-menstrual girl's blog about ice cream - "Rocky Road is the WORST flavor EVER because I HATE IT!!!! LOL!!!:):):))
ESPN.com didn't replace my local sports section because it's more convenient - it's actually not more convenient at all. I can't fold my laptop up and bring it to the shitter, I can't get bacon grease all over my laptop at the local diner, and I definitely can't afford to burn my laptop in the fireplace when it pisses me off. I choose it because the column writing doesn't completely *suck* like it does in every single newspaper in Florida and really basically every other paper in the country other than the NY Times, Chicago Tribune, and SF Chronicle.
Actually those papers suck too, why not.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Virgin Soprano
I admit it. This is the first season that I'm watching the Sopranos. I wouldn't say I love it, or that I'm hooked. I'm sort of waiting...waiting to see what it is that gets everyone so worked up. How long will I wait? At least it's on at a great time, I mean, what else is on at 9pm on Sunday night (infamous home of Christina Applegate's Married with Children during my childhood...remember when Bud was trying to be a badass and called himself Grandmaster B? Ed would chide him and make other nicknames, like Bedwetter B. As much as I, and I presume the viewing public, enjoyed this show, I can't believe it's not being syndicated anywhere! but easily found on youtube)?
Ok, so I woke up this morning with three observations about this latest episode of the Sopranos:
1. goth high school kids are extremely misunderstood and do not respond well to tough love from authority figures or peers alike;
2. when you have a gut feeling about an nfl bet, or better yet, an inside tip from a physician on the other team, AND have an opportunity to be your spouse/parter's hard earned dollars, you must INSIST on making the bet, otherwise you will be regretting it for a long time and everyone knows that regret is a tough pillow to sleep on;
3. why did that kid drop a deuce in the shower?
Seriously, why did he poop? and then step in it??
Ok, so I woke up this morning with three observations about this latest episode of the Sopranos:
1. goth high school kids are extremely misunderstood and do not respond well to tough love from authority figures or peers alike;
2. when you have a gut feeling about an nfl bet, or better yet, an inside tip from a physician on the other team, AND have an opportunity to be your spouse/parter's hard earned dollars, you must INSIST on making the bet, otherwise you will be regretting it for a long time and everyone knows that regret is a tough pillow to sleep on;
3. why did that kid drop a deuce in the shower?
Seriously, why did he poop? and then step in it??
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
cheating fuquans part ii
ok, i hear the argument for zero tolerance on cheating. part of me likes that policy, especially since the PR spin could be gorgeous. but what about the other side?
my roommate employs a brilliant consulting technique which has a name that escapes me right now. it's really simple though, you just keep asking why. i think the magic number is asking why 5 times. perhaps the name is the "5-why technique". consultants are so brilliant.
here goes:
1. WHY do people cheat?
--because they are afraid of failing.
2. WHY are they afraid of failing?
--because they have been moderately successful their whole lives so when put in a difficult situation, they choose to succeed at all costs instead of flirt with failure.
3. WHY do they want to succeed at all costs?
--because they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree.
4. WHY do they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree?
-- because they were admitted to the program.
5. WHY were they admitted to the program?
--to give them a degree.
a ha. you see it? i worked hard to make it work out this way, because as i've learned in this little exercise, the 5-why technique can end up with any conclusion, however absurd it may be.
let's assume that from day one, you walk in and think the program is going to give you a degree. it doesn't matter what you do throughout the 2 years. you saw the comment in the previous post: everybody passes. why *wouldn't* you feel entitled to the degree if you were admitted?
i'd be curious to hear what people think about whether you EARNED your degree or if you just finished a curriculum and were GIVEN a degree. there's a subtle difference but changes the entire attitude you would take.
if you had to EARN your degree, would you let anyone cheat off you? conversely, if you knew everyone was going to pass regardless, would you help someone out in the spirit of team fuqua?
my roommate employs a brilliant consulting technique which has a name that escapes me right now. it's really simple though, you just keep asking why. i think the magic number is asking why 5 times. perhaps the name is the "5-why technique". consultants are so brilliant.
here goes:
1. WHY do people cheat?
--because they are afraid of failing.
2. WHY are they afraid of failing?
--because they have been moderately successful their whole lives so when put in a difficult situation, they choose to succeed at all costs instead of flirt with failure.
3. WHY do they want to succeed at all costs?
--because they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree.
4. WHY do they feel a sense of entitlement to the degree?
-- because they were admitted to the program.
5. WHY were they admitted to the program?
--to give them a degree.
a ha. you see it? i worked hard to make it work out this way, because as i've learned in this little exercise, the 5-why technique can end up with any conclusion, however absurd it may be.
let's assume that from day one, you walk in and think the program is going to give you a degree. it doesn't matter what you do throughout the 2 years. you saw the comment in the previous post: everybody passes. why *wouldn't* you feel entitled to the degree if you were admitted?
i'd be curious to hear what people think about whether you EARNED your degree or if you just finished a curriculum and were GIVEN a degree. there's a subtle difference but changes the entire attitude you would take.
if you had to EARN your degree, would you let anyone cheat off you? conversely, if you knew everyone was going to pass regardless, would you help someone out in the spirit of team fuqua?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Cheating Fuquans
Saturday night found me at a really nice, outdoor deck party on Houston and 6th Avenue. With booze flowing freely, insecurity about my own deck in the Village started to creep into my subconscious. We don't have a trelice. Nor do we have the nice wooden furniture or cool elegant lighting. Or plants for that matter.
Just as I was spiraling into despair, a classmate hits me with this serious text message:
"34 Fuquans caught cheating on decision models. on abc.com. Sucks."
I can't find the abc.com article, but here's the local Raleigh report. Would love to hear other thoughts out there.
Some notable commentary from email chains I've seen:
"People have been pretty down on the ‘08s this year for a variety of reasons, which is probably a longer conversation. But my thought is that theirs is just the class that got caught doing something that in one form or another happens year-in and year-out." --current '07 student
"Did they miss the part of orientation where they explain that everyone passes and grades don't matter?" --'04 alumna
"I’ve long suspected various groups of walking on the Honor Code when no one’s looking. My understanding is that this sting struck deep within one particular community of international students, but that’s not been in any way confirmed." --current '08 student
"J.B. Fuqua rolling in his grave..." --'06 alumna
"I have no idea why people still try to do this….of course that might be because for all the one’s that get caught many get away with it." --'05 alumna
Incidentally, Decision Models is going to become an elective next year. Which brings up a whole slew of follow-on questions. At the top of my list is: how are future students going to project the number of attendees at a wedding without the knowledge of crystal ball? and a close second: without the power of excel solver, how will future Fuqua summer interns differentiate themselves?
Just as I was spiraling into despair, a classmate hits me with this serious text message:
"34 Fuquans caught cheating on decision models. on abc.com. Sucks."
I can't find the abc.com article, but here's the local Raleigh report. Would love to hear other thoughts out there.
Some notable commentary from email chains I've seen:
"People have been pretty down on the ‘08s this year for a variety of reasons, which is probably a longer conversation. But my thought is that theirs is just the class that got caught doing something that in one form or another happens year-in and year-out." --current '07 student
"Did they miss the part of orientation where they explain that everyone passes and grades don't matter?" --'04 alumna
"I’ve long suspected various groups of walking on the Honor Code when no one’s looking. My understanding is that this sting struck deep within one particular community of international students, but that’s not been in any way confirmed." --current '08 student
"J.B. Fuqua rolling in his grave..." --'06 alumna
"I have no idea why people still try to do this….of course that might be because for all the one’s that get caught many get away with it." --'05 alumna
Incidentally, Decision Models is going to become an elective next year. Which brings up a whole slew of follow-on questions. At the top of my list is: how are future students going to project the number of attendees at a wedding without the knowledge of crystal ball? and a close second: without the power of excel solver, how will future Fuqua summer interns differentiate themselves?
Friday, April 20, 2007
Mitch & Murray
Speaking for Rio Rancho, I think we'd be remiss in failing to mention the simply masterful Alec Baldwin voicemail performance that has surfaced (inevitably) on the internet. Referring to a missed phone call, AB lets his 11-year old daughter know that he is going to straighten her out on this issue.
This is perhaps Baldwin's finest performance since the equally brilliant "brass balls" escapade in GGGR. One suspects David Mamet himself may have authored this brilliant, unhesitating, two minute diatribe against his own progeny.
As every Baldwin young and old should know, coffee is for closers only, motherfucker.
This is perhaps Baldwin's finest performance since the equally brilliant "brass balls" escapade in GGGR. One suspects David Mamet himself may have authored this brilliant, unhesitating, two minute diatribe against his own progeny.
As every Baldwin young and old should know, coffee is for closers only, motherfucker.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
One for the record books
For those of us toiling away in the rat race, wasting time between mindless tasks at work and mindless tasks at the bar, let me share a heroic story of a woman who decided that she was going to take history into her own hands and try and set a state record: highest breath test reading in state history... 0.47
Monday, April 16, 2007
Behind Every Tall Man
NBA and other sports wives follow a code of conduct that supposedly enables rampant infidelity among players. An Oregon State sociology professor has spent the last four years studying it.
soundtrack to my life
i feel like i'm on the outside of this technology-driven music consumption revolution that's taking place. you know, the same "technology-driven music consumption revolution" you've been reading about and experiencing over the past 5 years. or as most simply recognize it as the ipod era.
with all the new ways to purchase or otherwise acquire new and old music, as well as the technology available to listen and consume at any time (car, workout, shower, killing kittens or not killing kittens as the case may or may not be, etc.), i have sat on the sidelines watching musical obsessions flourish amongst my contemporaries. being in nyc, with all the live music options, has further highlighted my disinterest. i guess it can be summed up in one statement:
music is not very important to me.
i know that's hard to believe, given that i'm a charter member of the NKCDOTMC. i mean i'm interested in downloading albums and listening to new music as a primary activity, but music as a secondary, constant activity is not up my alley. i never cruise around the city with my ipod. my phone, which is also an mp3 player, has exactly 0 songs downloaded on it. even on my longer workouts, i don't really listen to music.
it seems that the world falls into two categories when it comes to music: those that want a soundtrack to life and those who don't. i definitely fall into the latter. i mean, a soundtrack to my life would be a cool little add-on feature, but i am equally entertained with the noise or silence of my surroundings, whether that's honking horns and cell-phone conversations or chirping crickets and the hooting of owls.
for those in the former category, i am quite jealous. there has been a massive buildout of technology to help you achieve your desire and enable your consumption. you can always access your soundtrack.
but alas, for me, my soundtrack will remain filled with the normal everyday cacophony.
with all the new ways to purchase or otherwise acquire new and old music, as well as the technology available to listen and consume at any time (car, workout, shower, killing kittens or not killing kittens as the case may or may not be, etc.), i have sat on the sidelines watching musical obsessions flourish amongst my contemporaries. being in nyc, with all the live music options, has further highlighted my disinterest. i guess it can be summed up in one statement:
music is not very important to me.
i know that's hard to believe, given that i'm a charter member of the NKCDOTMC. i mean i'm interested in downloading albums and listening to new music as a primary activity, but music as a secondary, constant activity is not up my alley. i never cruise around the city with my ipod. my phone, which is also an mp3 player, has exactly 0 songs downloaded on it. even on my longer workouts, i don't really listen to music.
it seems that the world falls into two categories when it comes to music: those that want a soundtrack to life and those who don't. i definitely fall into the latter. i mean, a soundtrack to my life would be a cool little add-on feature, but i am equally entertained with the noise or silence of my surroundings, whether that's honking horns and cell-phone conversations or chirping crickets and the hooting of owls.
for those in the former category, i am quite jealous. there has been a massive buildout of technology to help you achieve your desire and enable your consumption. you can always access your soundtrack.
but alas, for me, my soundtrack will remain filled with the normal everyday cacophony.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
The National Anthem
9 out of 10 blog respondents agree that Freebird should be the new national anthem. But then we would miss out on moments like this.
Above the Upper West Side
I'm just over a month away from the Ford Ironman 70.3 Florida. (Fun fact: 70.3 is exactly 1/2 the distance of a full Ironman and also the number of miles traveled during 3 events: 1.2-mile swim; 56-mile bike; 13.1-mile run)
Recently I've devoted quite a bit of time to long, multi-sport workouts so I can get used to how my body feels in the transitions. The other day, I swam 1.5-miles and then hopped on my bike. Riding up the west side highway, I passed the George Washington Bridge and approached the northern end of the island when my front tire burst.
Without a patch kit or spare tube (I did have a CO2 cartridge to fill a spare tube if I had it), I started walking back. After about 20 minutes, I decided I needed to find a cab. Walking away from the Hudson River, I found myself at 181st Street and to my surprise, the A-train station at 181st. Has anyone ever been this far up the island? Who lives there??
Anyway, I didn't really want to find out how much a cab ride from 181st to 4th Street would cost so I was glad to try my hand with the subway. With no wallet, I pitched the subway attendant to let me on for free.
When I explained the situation, the attendant let out a whooping laugh and exclaimed "You live in the West Village??!! You're fucked...good thing I'm helping you out. Ha!"
Recently I've devoted quite a bit of time to long, multi-sport workouts so I can get used to how my body feels in the transitions. The other day, I swam 1.5-miles and then hopped on my bike. Riding up the west side highway, I passed the George Washington Bridge and approached the northern end of the island when my front tire burst.
Without a patch kit or spare tube (I did have a CO2 cartridge to fill a spare tube if I had it), I started walking back. After about 20 minutes, I decided I needed to find a cab. Walking away from the Hudson River, I found myself at 181st Street and to my surprise, the A-train station at 181st. Has anyone ever been this far up the island? Who lives there??
Anyway, I didn't really want to find out how much a cab ride from 181st to 4th Street would cost so I was glad to try my hand with the subway. With no wallet, I pitched the subway attendant to let me on for free.
When I explained the situation, the attendant let out a whooping laugh and exclaimed "You live in the West Village??!! You're fucked...good thing I'm helping you out. Ha!"
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Finally!
Doesn't it seem like everything is coming to a head all at once? Like:
- The Utah Jazz finally retired former Detroit Piston Adrian Dantley's #4 jersey. Even though I had no idea Dantley ever wore the former most flaming NBA uniform, I can tell you the honor was richly deserved. The Jazz should retire the numbers of some other old Pistons - starting with Dennis Rodman, in honor of his and Karl Malone's wonderful, unintentional NBA playoff comedy, as well as their later, under-appreciated masterpiece for the WWF.
- Don Imus says he will stop apologizing for racist remarks or whatever. Those of you who've been tailing me know I've been commuting to Westchester County a few days per week, which means I've also been a prisoner of bad radio. And this week I've specifically been a prisoner of endless Don Imus apologies. Imus, Mike & Mike In the Morning, Mike & the Mad Dog, Michael Savage, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah... who handed these people microphones? But I'm so desperate for original content that I actually will miss Imus; I guess they'll be playing "best of," but trust me the "best of" talk radio is like eating raw hamburger meat with the "best tasting" e. coli.
- Irving Plaza took on a retread name to better reflect the retread 80s music it's been parading forth as "indie rock" this year. Wow, what a shitty change! Also, did you know Irving Plaza will sell you a Red Bull. And they'll sell you a vodka. But they will not sell you a Red Bull and vodka?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Minetta Lane
Apparently this street is in the village. I thought I was at least familiar with all the street names in my 'hood. But not Minetta.
Turns out it's off of Sixth Ave, between Bleecker and West 3rd. And it's got a solid italian restaurant on it to boot.
I read that Bella Vitae is cheaper version of Babbo. I've never been to Babbo, but I'm guessing that it's similar to Po, which is right around the corner and also one of my favorite restaurants in the village.
I went over there with Red, no reservations, and we were lucky enough to stumble onto a pair of stools at the "chef's table". The chef's table was really a prep station where prociutto was sliced and appetizers were assembled. The centerpiece of the area was a wood fired brick oven. Inside this oven was everything from bruschetta to plates of gorgonzola to marinated octopus (which was ok not great).
We had a bottle of Chianti paired with tiny fried meatballs, liver pate, prociutto with fried bread, the marinated wood fired octopus and an egg pasta with a bolognese-style ragu. Everything was solid and flavorful and each dish was on the affordable side.
Our server, Giselle, was nice, but not as beautiful as the name would suggest.
We had an interesting conversation about how dipshits in the financial community are the driving force behind great restaurants in the city, which in turn spawn more accessible and affordable places like Bella Vitae, hidden on Mineta Lane.
Turns out it's off of Sixth Ave, between Bleecker and West 3rd. And it's got a solid italian restaurant on it to boot.
I read that Bella Vitae is cheaper version of Babbo. I've never been to Babbo, but I'm guessing that it's similar to Po, which is right around the corner and also one of my favorite restaurants in the village.
I went over there with Red, no reservations, and we were lucky enough to stumble onto a pair of stools at the "chef's table". The chef's table was really a prep station where prociutto was sliced and appetizers were assembled. The centerpiece of the area was a wood fired brick oven. Inside this oven was everything from bruschetta to plates of gorgonzola to marinated octopus (which was ok not great).
We had a bottle of Chianti paired with tiny fried meatballs, liver pate, prociutto with fried bread, the marinated wood fired octopus and an egg pasta with a bolognese-style ragu. Everything was solid and flavorful and each dish was on the affordable side.
Our server, Giselle, was nice, but not as beautiful as the name would suggest.
We had an interesting conversation about how dipshits in the financial community are the driving force behind great restaurants in the city, which in turn spawn more accessible and affordable places like Bella Vitae, hidden on Mineta Lane.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Back to our regularly scheduled programming
Wow. And that's Midnight. Will definitely heed the anal leakage warning and put on my pampers before I read.
In other news, I dined at the bar at La Palapa West last night (6th Ave & Washington Pl.). Drinks were great. They've got these Mexico City style beer cocktails that are really interesting: beer, lime juice, hotsauce. For dinner, we had empanadas, salad with hearts of palm and avacado, chicken and pork tacos, green tomatillo rice and vegetarian refried pinto beans. It was great eating at the bar. The bartender comped a bottle of beer, we didn't order a full entree between the two of us, and we got to taste a lot of different things.
The tacos were legit: two corn tortillas and meat topped with a few bits of chopped white onions and served with a slice of lime. The chicken was this pulled, juicy mess that was soaked in a savory red mole sauce. Next time I go I'm going to try the fish tacos.
This is actually the second California style Mexican joint I've been to in the past few weeks. The other one was Florencia 13 on Sullivan Street. That place was solid, too. Great margaritas, flautas and SoCal style burritos.
In other news, I dined at the bar at La Palapa West last night (6th Ave & Washington Pl.). Drinks were great. They've got these Mexico City style beer cocktails that are really interesting: beer, lime juice, hotsauce. For dinner, we had empanadas, salad with hearts of palm and avacado, chicken and pork tacos, green tomatillo rice and vegetarian refried pinto beans. It was great eating at the bar. The bartender comped a bottle of beer, we didn't order a full entree between the two of us, and we got to taste a lot of different things.
The tacos were legit: two corn tortillas and meat topped with a few bits of chopped white onions and served with a slice of lime. The chicken was this pulled, juicy mess that was soaked in a savory red mole sauce. Next time I go I'm going to try the fish tacos.
This is actually the second California style Mexican joint I've been to in the past few weeks. The other one was Florencia 13 on Sullivan Street. That place was solid, too. Great margaritas, flautas and SoCal style burritos.
Monday, April 9, 2007
The Dawn of Midnight
By way of introduction...
Midnight does not answer prayers.
No one discovered Midnight; Midnight was always there.
Midnight is a brand.
Midnight springs free those thoughts that escape you.
Athletes point to Midnight.
Midnight is the bathwater you threw the baby out with.
Midnight can do everything better than you.
Miracles are ascribed to Midnight.
Midnight knows 'The Theory of Everything', but will not tell.
Midnight is the giant, bright sun around which Red and Grey revolve.
"Midnight is a cock". Midnight just read your thoughts.
Midnight has chosen this blog as his earthly outlet for his divine Word.
Now, what will you get when you read Midnight? Religion, politics, society, blah blah blah. Put more simply: anal leakage and abdominal discomfort. What's the 'shock jock' equivalent for a blogger? Maybe there doesn't need to be an equivalent, 'blogger' says it all. (what a dumb term. I suppose if they left it as 'logger' it would sound a little queer, and if they called it 'arrogant-asshole-who-thinks-others-care-about-what-he-has-to-say', then no one would want to be one. Or would they?)
Midnight will swoop in occasionally like a diarrhetic pigeon and ruin the entire mood of the blog. You have been warned...
Upcoming Topic: Top Ten Reasons Why This Signals the End of the World
Oh yeah, and here's a funny video:
Midnight does not answer prayers.
No one discovered Midnight; Midnight was always there.
Midnight is a brand.
Midnight springs free those thoughts that escape you.
Athletes point to Midnight.
Midnight is the bathwater you threw the baby out with.
Midnight can do everything better than you.
Miracles are ascribed to Midnight.
Midnight knows 'The Theory of Everything', but will not tell.
Midnight is the giant, bright sun around which Red and Grey revolve.
"Midnight is a cock". Midnight just read your thoughts.
Midnight has chosen this blog as his earthly outlet for his divine Word.
Now, what will you get when you read Midnight? Religion, politics, society, blah blah blah. Put more simply: anal leakage and abdominal discomfort. What's the 'shock jock' equivalent for a blogger? Maybe there doesn't need to be an equivalent, 'blogger' says it all. (what a dumb term. I suppose if they left it as 'logger' it would sound a little queer, and if they called it 'arrogant-asshole-who-thinks-others-care-about-what-he-has-to-say', then no one would want to be one. Or would they?)
Midnight will swoop in occasionally like a diarrhetic pigeon and ruin the entire mood of the blog. You have been warned...
Upcoming Topic: Top Ten Reasons Why This Signals the End of the World
Oh yeah, and here's a funny video:
Organizations Win Championships
Congrats to Midnight and the entire Celtic nation. It is the hallmark of a great franchise to defy all logic and expectations. Go see Hercules and have yourself a $14 dollar cold one, on me.
Pulling yourself in public
For weeks I've been jocking the Tony Dapolito Rec Center (formerly known as the Carmine Street Rec Center) at the corner of Carmine and 7th Ave. For an annual membership of $70, you have access to an indoor pool (and outdoor during the summer), two basketball courts, weight room, treadmills, stationary bikes, and even a computer center. That is absolutely the deal of the century. Or so I thought.
Recently I've noticed that homeless people swim in the pool without showering first. At first I was skeezed out, but after thinking about how much chlorine they put in that pool, I figured it's no big deal. Changing in the locker room with post-swim homeless dudes isn't the gnarliest thing I've ever done. Not even close.
But the other day, I think I may have hit my limit. While throwing my stuff into a locker, I heard someone groaning. My initial reaction was that someone was taking a painful #2 and having some intense GI issues. The groaning kept up, though, and when I went into the shower area to wash off before getting in the pool, in the corner was a portly man, facing the corner, making all that noise. By looking at where his hands were, I could tell he was polishing his knob.
My first thought was BARF, closely followed by my second thought, which was yelling at the guy to stop yanking his wank. Isn't it rude to masturbate in public places? The last thing I wanted to happen, though, was for him to turn around mid-jerk and look at me with a hard-on. No thanks. So I turned and went straight for the pool.
There was a recent article in nymag about public sex. I hadn't witnessed any of it. I think the article jinxed me. Damn you nymag.com!
Recently I've noticed that homeless people swim in the pool without showering first. At first I was skeezed out, but after thinking about how much chlorine they put in that pool, I figured it's no big deal. Changing in the locker room with post-swim homeless dudes isn't the gnarliest thing I've ever done. Not even close.
But the other day, I think I may have hit my limit. While throwing my stuff into a locker, I heard someone groaning. My initial reaction was that someone was taking a painful #2 and having some intense GI issues. The groaning kept up, though, and when I went into the shower area to wash off before getting in the pool, in the corner was a portly man, facing the corner, making all that noise. By looking at where his hands were, I could tell he was polishing his knob.
My first thought was BARF, closely followed by my second thought, which was yelling at the guy to stop yanking his wank. Isn't it rude to masturbate in public places? The last thing I wanted to happen, though, was for him to turn around mid-jerk and look at me with a hard-on. No thanks. So I turned and went straight for the pool.
There was a recent article in nymag about public sex. I hadn't witnessed any of it. I think the article jinxed me. Damn you nymag.com!
Grindhouse
Trust me, I wouldn't have missed Grindhouse. But after reading A.O. Scott's review, I've realized it has the chance to be a landmark moment in cinematic history. Hell, it might be Kurt Russell's best movie since Big Trouble in Little China.
What would you give?
to play one round at Augusta? This is what CC and I discussed as we played Bethpage Red on 4/6 (the Black opens on 4/13). It has to be a sacrifice that money can't replace. So, no cars, houses or anything like that. We were thinking more along the lines of bodily harm or spending time in prison. It also depends on your relationship with golf. I am not a good golfer but I love the game so much that I am a glutton for the punishment it inflicts upon me round after round. Despite not even being able to flirt with a sub 80 round in my life (or even a sub 95 lately), I have an insatiable appetite to play the finest courses in the land. And it gets no finer than Augusta. Pebble is close to my heart because of my Northern Cali ties but that huge ocean and those winds intimidate me more than the spirit of Bobby Jones ever could. Every time I watch The Masters I become mesmerized by the azalea flanked greens, fairways so perfect they look like carpet, and pine straw so smooth and uniform that it must actually feel good to hit out of the trees. Plus did you know they close the course from May-October?! How would you like to own a course that is so pimp you actually CLOSE it in the SUMMER?!
So what would you sacrifice? I was thinking about a pinky finger or toe in the spirit of one of my all time favorite 49ers, Ronnie Lott but then thought of how crappy I'd feel if I lost a pinky finger or toe then shot a 123. CC said he would get 'Augusta' tatted on his back, across his shoulders in Olde English style font (ala Brad Nowell of Sublime). I agreed to get the Augusta logo tatted on my left breast but I don't think that is hard-core enough. But of course if you don't even like golf I'm sure all of this sounds a bit silly.
By the way, the Masters was boring this year.
So what would you sacrifice? I was thinking about a pinky finger or toe in the spirit of one of my all time favorite 49ers, Ronnie Lott but then thought of how crappy I'd feel if I lost a pinky finger or toe then shot a 123. CC said he would get 'Augusta' tatted on his back, across his shoulders in Olde English style font (ala Brad Nowell of Sublime). I agreed to get the Augusta logo tatted on my left breast but I don't think that is hard-core enough. But of course if you don't even like golf I'm sure all of this sounds a bit silly.
By the way, the Masters was boring this year.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Bruce
Gamboge used back channels to score tickets to the "Music for Youth: Celebrating the Music of Bruce Springsteen" benefit last night at Carnegie Hall. We got to see a bunch of famous, semi-famous, and un-famous musicians perform Bruce songs, plus experience our first times at the world's fanciest music venue. A ton of people performed and I don't think I could remember them all, but it included: M. Ward, Pete Yorn, Steve Earl, Badly Drawn Boy, The Hold Steady, Elysian Fields, Bacon Brothers, North Mississippi All-Stars, Juliana Hatfield, and Patti Smith.
Last but not least, Bruce himself took the stage and performed acoustic renditions of Promised Land and Rosalita. A completely electric performance. The energy in the hall picked up big-time for Bruce; Blackberrys were put away right-and-left. For the last song, all the other less famous/good musicians gathered onstage for a stunningly bad reprise of Rosalita. Well, bad but pretty awesome.
Other than Bruce, most of the performances were collectively kind of awkward. But there were highlights: Pete Yorn's acoustic version of "Dancin' in the Dark" (see below) was inventive and excellent, and The Hold Steady absolutely killed "Atlantic City" (as you would expect). Craig Finn even managed to steal Bruce's encore; his energy lifted the entire room during "Rosalita". Have been trying to see The Hold Steady for a while, and this performance added some urgency.
Last but not least, Bruce himself took the stage and performed acoustic renditions of Promised Land and Rosalita. A completely electric performance. The energy in the hall picked up big-time for Bruce; Blackberrys were put away right-and-left. For the last song, all the other less famous/good musicians gathered onstage for a stunningly bad reprise of Rosalita. Well, bad but pretty awesome.
Other than Bruce, most of the performances were collectively kind of awkward. But there were highlights: Pete Yorn's acoustic version of "Dancin' in the Dark" (see below) was inventive and excellent, and The Hold Steady absolutely killed "Atlantic City" (as you would expect). Craig Finn even managed to steal Bruce's encore; his energy lifted the entire room during "Rosalita". Have been trying to see The Hold Steady for a while, and this performance added some urgency.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Bar Dining
Pete Wells writes about the pleasures of bar dining in Diner's Journal, and I welcome him to the fan club. In traveling extensively on business over the last years, I've become a connoisseur of bar dining, and in fact I've come to actually prefer bar dining in most cases, even with a companion.
The bar dining experience always seems to just turn into a really enjoyable time. When alone, you might make a new friend or learn something you didn't know (Charlton Heston was not Demille's first choice in The Ten Commandments, opportunities abound in Simi Valley real estate). You might make friends with a bartender who will help you navigate the menu, steering you away from the duck confit (bland and over-rated) to the pepper-crusted meatballs (crack). You might end up in a Marriott Courtyard with a long-legged pharmaceutical sales rep from Spokane named Mary (I think). How better to engage with the world than through food and drink?
Even when dining with a companion, the bar experience reigns supreme. As Pete says, "When you’re sitting across the table from somebody, it feels like an interview, even if you’re with your wife of 30 years." The bar is a liberator from the those dinners that turn into skin-deep therapy sessions or Hannity and Colmes point-counterpoint, only because staring at someone for an hour and a half unleashes a deep-seated human need to "fill space" with talk talk talk. The bar chills, relaxes - hell, your stool may even swivel. And while you can't easily play footsie with your date, you can definitely pull out the time-tested stretch/yawn/arm-over-the-shoulder moneyshot.
There's a reason Cheers was set in Cheers, not the restaurant upstairs (Melville's, if you're scoring at home). Bar dining is the people's champion - try it this weekend.
The bar dining experience always seems to just turn into a really enjoyable time. When alone, you might make a new friend or learn something you didn't know (Charlton Heston was not Demille's first choice in The Ten Commandments, opportunities abound in Simi Valley real estate). You might make friends with a bartender who will help you navigate the menu, steering you away from the duck confit (bland and over-rated) to the pepper-crusted meatballs (crack). You might end up in a Marriott Courtyard with a long-legged pharmaceutical sales rep from Spokane named Mary (I think). How better to engage with the world than through food and drink?
Even when dining with a companion, the bar experience reigns supreme. As Pete says, "When you’re sitting across the table from somebody, it feels like an interview, even if you’re with your wife of 30 years." The bar is a liberator from the those dinners that turn into skin-deep therapy sessions or Hannity and Colmes point-counterpoint, only because staring at someone for an hour and a half unleashes a deep-seated human need to "fill space" with talk talk talk. The bar chills, relaxes - hell, your stool may even swivel. And while you can't easily play footsie with your date, you can definitely pull out the time-tested stretch/yawn/arm-over-the-shoulder moneyshot.
There's a reason Cheers was set in Cheers, not the restaurant upstairs (Melville's, if you're scoring at home). Bar dining is the people's champion - try it this weekend.
The NYC Restaurant Paradox
"I wouldn't join any club that would have me as a member" -- Groucho Marx
There's a similar paradox for NYC restaurants on weekends:
Any restaurant where you don't have to wait is not a good restaurant. Any restaurant that you want to eat at will require you to wait longer than you you'd like.
Weekend visits to NYC restaurants (with no reservations) are what I imagine life was like in the old Red USSR: waiting in line. The one thing these restaurants demand from weekend eaters is the ability to kill time, from at least 1/2 hour for a marginal restaurant to 2+ hours at one with critical acclaim.
Even though the city, and when I say city I really mean the West Village, is teeming with great restaurants, the weekends are always overcrowded because the timing naturally attracts three demographics that aren't around during the week:
1. Bridge and tunnel. Don't underestimate the size of this demographic. It's absolutely massive.
2. Couples. After a busy week where couples may not have been able to spend time together, this is a prime opportunity to go out, drop some cash, and spend some quality time together.
3. Poor post college crowd. (We need to give these folks a name because I have a feeling we'll be referring to them in the future). I'm talking about the 22-26 age bracket, mostly in the unemployed or creative services industry. These people spend the week eating ramen, sale sushi, canned/frozen vegetables and hitting up free cocktail/hors d'heuvres receptions. God love them, sustaining on truly the bare minimum during the week. But come weekend time, it's time to splurge! This is what they've been saving all week for. A $40/day Rachel Ray special at The Little Owl.
So here's my solution. Go to the best restaurants on Tuesday night (most head chefs take Monday night off after a tiring weekend and come in Tuesday rejuvenated, possibly with new menu items). Weekend meals should be local pizza or indian take-out, or better yet, go to your local butcher and vegetable stand, invite friends to bring over a few bottles of wine, and make a night of it at Rio Rancho.
By the way, it's snowing right now!
There's a similar paradox for NYC restaurants on weekends:
Any restaurant where you don't have to wait is not a good restaurant. Any restaurant that you want to eat at will require you to wait longer than you you'd like.
Weekend visits to NYC restaurants (with no reservations) are what I imagine life was like in the old Red USSR: waiting in line. The one thing these restaurants demand from weekend eaters is the ability to kill time, from at least 1/2 hour for a marginal restaurant to 2+ hours at one with critical acclaim.
Even though the city, and when I say city I really mean the West Village, is teeming with great restaurants, the weekends are always overcrowded because the timing naturally attracts three demographics that aren't around during the week:
1. Bridge and tunnel. Don't underestimate the size of this demographic. It's absolutely massive.
2. Couples. After a busy week where couples may not have been able to spend time together, this is a prime opportunity to go out, drop some cash, and spend some quality time together.
3. Poor post college crowd. (We need to give these folks a name because I have a feeling we'll be referring to them in the future). I'm talking about the 22-26 age bracket, mostly in the unemployed or creative services industry. These people spend the week eating ramen, sale sushi, canned/frozen vegetables and hitting up free cocktail/hors d'heuvres receptions. God love them, sustaining on truly the bare minimum during the week. But come weekend time, it's time to splurge! This is what they've been saving all week for. A $40/day Rachel Ray special at The Little Owl.
So here's my solution. Go to the best restaurants on Tuesday night (most head chefs take Monday night off after a tiring weekend and come in Tuesday rejuvenated, possibly with new menu items). Weekend meals should be local pizza or indian take-out, or better yet, go to your local butcher and vegetable stand, invite friends to bring over a few bottles of wine, and make a night of it at Rio Rancho.
By the way, it's snowing right now!
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
The Ball Coach on the Buckeyes
Steve Spurrier added to his vault of classic one-liners today with some commentary on Ohio State.
Look what the Tiger dragged in
What do you get when you put together 1. an unstoppable collection of interesting and tasty microbrews; 2. a few cask pulled ales; and 3. a seemingly unending list of bottled eccentricities from brewers across the nation and around the world?
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that these three things spell:
S-A-U-S-A-G-E-F-E-S-T.
The Blind Tiger finally reopened a couple doors down from Rio Rancho. Last night the crew took a field trip over there to check it out. Indeed, there were many male patrons and the collection of personalities were as diverse and eclectic as the choice of beer. To each his own, I suppose the saying goes.
The bar is actually pretty well laid out, with round tables and stools collected around a wood burning hearth and then tables lining the far wall. The bar is a double-L shape that ensures the disinterested bartender will take at least 15 minutes to see you, even if you're the only one there.
The food was marginal. We had runny deviled eggs, olives, grilled cheese on sourdough, and a tiny, uninspired pulled chicken panini with buffalo sauce and a blue cheese dipping sauce. The table next to us had the better idea: pick up a pizza from John's and bring it in.
I imagine the clientele was comprised of regular beer afficianados **shudder**, some NYU grad students, curious neighbors who have read too much on nymag.com NOT to come check it out. I'm not sure how this fits into the portfolio of choices here in the 'hood. The service is definitely lacking, and isnt' that the main reason you repeatedly patronize a local establishment?
This is a place I'll bust out for a late afternoon pint when an out-of-town guest who brews his own beer comes in for a visit. Otherwise, go over to Hercules and let him upsell you on some Belgians and then get some John's take-out.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that these three things spell:
S-A-U-S-A-G-E-F-E-S-T.
The Blind Tiger finally reopened a couple doors down from Rio Rancho. Last night the crew took a field trip over there to check it out. Indeed, there were many male patrons and the collection of personalities were as diverse and eclectic as the choice of beer. To each his own, I suppose the saying goes.
The bar is actually pretty well laid out, with round tables and stools collected around a wood burning hearth and then tables lining the far wall. The bar is a double-L shape that ensures the disinterested bartender will take at least 15 minutes to see you, even if you're the only one there.
The food was marginal. We had runny deviled eggs, olives, grilled cheese on sourdough, and a tiny, uninspired pulled chicken panini with buffalo sauce and a blue cheese dipping sauce. The table next to us had the better idea: pick up a pizza from John's and bring it in.
I imagine the clientele was comprised of regular beer afficianados **shudder**, some NYU grad students, curious neighbors who have read too much on nymag.com NOT to come check it out. I'm not sure how this fits into the portfolio of choices here in the 'hood. The service is definitely lacking, and isnt' that the main reason you repeatedly patronize a local establishment?
This is a place I'll bust out for a late afternoon pint when an out-of-town guest who brews his own beer comes in for a visit. Otherwise, go over to Hercules and let him upsell you on some Belgians and then get some John's take-out.
Air Guitar
The regionals of the U.S. Air Guitar Championship come to the Bowery Ballroom on June 7th. The best thing about competitive air guitar, karaoke's really fucking pointless sub-genre, is that the field of entrants is large enough to demand sub-regional competition. Still, as a fan of pointless sub-genres, I expect to be there.
Check out the 2006 winner. Wow.
Check out the 2006 winner. Wow.
Best NBA Commericals of All Time
Someone with apparently even more free time than Grey put together a collection of the 50 greatest NBA commercials of all time. It only includes one of the Ali G ads for TNT, but honestly the whole series is a work of unadulterated genius.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Best bartender
Out of fear that somebody who lives in the west village may actually be reading the west village gazette, I will not use her real name. But we can call her Bay Ridge, cause that's where she's from. The bar: 4-Faced Liar. Right around the corner.
Midnight, me and Carolina Blue went over there last Saturday night. We walked into a reasonable crowd and were able to grab 2 bar stools on the corner. Next to us was a group getting ready to do a shot. As Bay Ridge poured Smirnoff Ice into the shot glasses, I asked her what she was making: Skittle shot. Tastes like tangerine flavor from the tropical skittle line. It's SoCo and Smirnoff Ice. I knew I liked her when I saw that she was doing a shot with the patrons.
So I ordered up a round with an extra for her. Bang. We did another. Bada bing. And another. The place is cash only, so I was concerned a little bit about the tab, as I hadn't been to the ATM since that afternoon and if you know the way NYC bleeds cash, my funds were a bit on the soft side. So I checked in with her: a couple rounds of shots, couple rounds of beers and vodka/sodas. $20. Ok, that's pretty sweet. The Bay Ridge Exception states that if she does a shot with you, it's on her! Rad.
The best part was when Carolina Blue asked for a diet coke. Bay Ridge brought it over, as well as a bottle of rum. Playfully, she impersonated a conversation between the bottle of rum and diet coke and how much they love each other. The end result was that they got married in Carolina Blue's glass. It was probably the most charming act of peer pressure to drink I have ever witnessed.
Bay Ridge only works Friday and Saturday nights.
Midnight, me and Carolina Blue went over there last Saturday night. We walked into a reasonable crowd and were able to grab 2 bar stools on the corner. Next to us was a group getting ready to do a shot. As Bay Ridge poured Smirnoff Ice into the shot glasses, I asked her what she was making: Skittle shot. Tastes like tangerine flavor from the tropical skittle line. It's SoCo and Smirnoff Ice. I knew I liked her when I saw that she was doing a shot with the patrons.
So I ordered up a round with an extra for her. Bang. We did another. Bada bing. And another. The place is cash only, so I was concerned a little bit about the tab, as I hadn't been to the ATM since that afternoon and if you know the way NYC bleeds cash, my funds were a bit on the soft side. So I checked in with her: a couple rounds of shots, couple rounds of beers and vodka/sodas. $20. Ok, that's pretty sweet. The Bay Ridge Exception states that if she does a shot with you, it's on her! Rad.
The best part was when Carolina Blue asked for a diet coke. Bay Ridge brought it over, as well as a bottle of rum. Playfully, she impersonated a conversation between the bottle of rum and diet coke and how much they love each other. The end result was that they got married in Carolina Blue's glass. It was probably the most charming act of peer pressure to drink I have ever witnessed.
Bay Ridge only works Friday and Saturday nights.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Championship Night
Good column by Chad Forde on the real Fab 5. I'm equal parts jacked for this game and saddened that such an incredible two-year run comes to an end tonight, win or lose. Will we ever see a run like this in college basketball again?
By the way, has there ever been a team full of superstars this unselfish? Here's the Gators' 2006-07 scoring breakdown (ppg):
Brewer 13.3
Green 13.2
Horford 13.1
Noah 12.1
Humphrey 10.2
I haven't seen scoring this unselfish since the last Rio Rancho transfer dinner.
By the way, has there ever been a team full of superstars this unselfish? Here's the Gators' 2006-07 scoring breakdown (ppg):
Brewer 13.3
Green 13.2
Horford 13.1
Noah 12.1
Humphrey 10.2
I haven't seen scoring this unselfish since the last Rio Rancho transfer dinner.
Kuma Inn
It's a restaurant truism: the only thing better than Filipino-Thai tapas is *BYOB* Filipino-Thai tapas. Recently hit Kuma Inn on Ludlow with Grey and Midnight, and experienced flavors powerful enough to break through even my St. Patrick's Day armor of 27 PBRs. Don't be put off by the shady entrance to this spot - the dank hallway makes for a perfect post-meal smoking/loitering spot. It also doubles as the entrance to Bulgarian Bar, so if you have the energy, you can stand outside and collect phantom cover charges from dimwit hipsters while you finish off the booze you brought to Kuma.
Notable is the band we saw that night. If you're into gypsy-klezmer-tango-punk bands (we are), check out the Luminescent Orchestrii, they kick a lot of ass.
Notable is the band we saw that night. If you're into gypsy-klezmer-tango-punk bands (we are), check out the Luminescent Orchestrii, they kick a lot of ass.
Holding back
An interesting conversation yesterday on the golf course: What do you think about when you are having sex and you don't want to climax?
Midnight was out with me and he and I had the same answer, which is strange, to say the least. We both think about our respective home sports teams and their starting lineups back in the late 80's/early 90's. For me, that's the Run TMC version of the Golden State Warriors and also the Will Clark/Robby Thompson era of the SF Giants.
Our other friend Nasty made a funny point. Apparently I've had this conversation with him as well, and he said that if he starts using my methodology and thinking about Timmy Hardaway, Mitch Richmond and Chris Mullin, then he inevitably starts thinking about me. Gross.
What do you think about when you are holding back?
Midnight was out with me and he and I had the same answer, which is strange, to say the least. We both think about our respective home sports teams and their starting lineups back in the late 80's/early 90's. For me, that's the Run TMC version of the Golden State Warriors and also the Will Clark/Robby Thompson era of the SF Giants.
Our other friend Nasty made a funny point. Apparently I've had this conversation with him as well, and he said that if he starts using my methodology and thinking about Timmy Hardaway, Mitch Richmond and Chris Mullin, then he inevitably starts thinking about me. Gross.
What do you think about when you are holding back?
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Large Kwok
Normally, when your girlfriend asks another man if he has small kwok, you don't really think twice. But when the response from the man is that he only has big kwok, well, that's when you do a double take. unless the name of the man is hercules.
Hercules is our beer monger. This neighborhood is so great. We've got great cheese mongers, fish mongers, beer mongers, and even fear mongers, like the antagonist in the Greenwich Village gunfight.
Hercules' small beer store is on the northern leg of the triangle created by 7th Ave, Bedford, and Morton, right next to Subway. It's an amazing beer store with fresh beer from all over. I have a feeling that he specializes in belgian-style, but next time you're in there, just ask him what's been popular. Chances are he'll upsell you on a $12 bottle of 28 oz. something or other, like Kwok (big bottle, of course). You won't be able to walk out of there without 6 bottles of beer and $30 lighter in the wallet.
But it's the art of the upsell that's great. You see, Hercules makes you feel GREAT for overpaying for some beer you've never heard of. And the next time you go in, two things will be certain: 1. you won't remember what you bought last time, and 2. you'll be ready and willing to overpay again.
Hercules is our beer monger. This neighborhood is so great. We've got great cheese mongers, fish mongers, beer mongers, and even fear mongers, like the antagonist in the Greenwich Village gunfight.
Hercules' small beer store is on the northern leg of the triangle created by 7th Ave, Bedford, and Morton, right next to Subway. It's an amazing beer store with fresh beer from all over. I have a feeling that he specializes in belgian-style, but next time you're in there, just ask him what's been popular. Chances are he'll upsell you on a $12 bottle of 28 oz. something or other, like Kwok (big bottle, of course). You won't be able to walk out of there without 6 bottles of beer and $30 lighter in the wallet.
But it's the art of the upsell that's great. You see, Hercules makes you feel GREAT for overpaying for some beer you've never heard of. And the next time you go in, two things will be certain: 1. you won't remember what you bought last time, and 2. you'll be ready and willing to overpay again.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Risottoria
The war is over and Rio Rancho is victorious!
That was a text I got from Red a few days ago. I was surprised. We've been talking about declaring war vs. Risottoria for quite sometime, but I don't remember anyone taking any action (typical Rio Rancho...all talk, no action. but the talk is some funny shit!). No reason for war, really, we're all peace loving individuals. Additionally, I think combined, in our collective time living in the village, I think there have been 2 meals consumed at this neighborhood eatery. It's just the principle that we stand behind.
People waiting in line for this "restaurant": NYU students and their parents, tourists, bridge and tunnel. What sampling of the consuming universe personifies ignorance and tastelessness better than those three categories of vermin?
After all, isn't risotto a side, an accoutrement, not a main event?
Anyway, we talked about war, devising plans of boycott and torment. In the end, the health department waged our war for us.
Rio Rancho: 1. Greenwich Village: 0.
That was a text I got from Red a few days ago. I was surprised. We've been talking about declaring war vs. Risottoria for quite sometime, but I don't remember anyone taking any action (typical Rio Rancho...all talk, no action. but the talk is some funny shit!). No reason for war, really, we're all peace loving individuals. Additionally, I think combined, in our collective time living in the village, I think there have been 2 meals consumed at this neighborhood eatery. It's just the principle that we stand behind.
People waiting in line for this "restaurant": NYU students and their parents, tourists, bridge and tunnel. What sampling of the consuming universe personifies ignorance and tastelessness better than those three categories of vermin?
After all, isn't risotto a side, an accoutrement, not a main event?
Anyway, we talked about war, devising plans of boycott and torment. In the end, the health department waged our war for us.
Rio Rancho: 1. Greenwich Village: 0.
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