Friday, May 28, 2010

Inspirational Photography

Sometimes it's just the little things that restore my faith in humankind. Getting this photo took some convincing because dude thought I was a cop.


Got me some Faygo on a recent trip to Maryland. Why??! Why the fuck not? A million Juggaloes can't POSSIBLY be wrong!


This is a shot of the trash barrel next to my desk. I get LOTS done. Before any of you get all salty in the trousers, I DO sort this shit and recycle. It's just easier in the interim to throw empty containers in one place and enjoy my alcohol, sugar, caffeine buzz for all its worth.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Feed Bag

Have you ever woke up with a miserable, horrific, white-hot, Miller High Life, brutal jackhammer of a skullfuck hangover? The kind that feels like a gnome playing with a blowtorch in your sinus cavity? Well, I get that from time to time. And on rare occasion, the hair-of-the-dog approach just doesn't appeal to me (particularly if said approach has been applied for the previous several days). When I find myself in this lamentable condition, I need to EAT. I don't know what it is, but I can gorge myself infinitely when I'm real hung over. The place in the photo is one of my personal favorites in the city. There's no air conditioning, the decor is godawful homely at best, but the food is cheap as hell and GREAT. The staff speaks little to no English and transactions are really awkward, but I deal because their fucking hot noodles are goddamn delicious and their steamed dumplings are so good I wanna take them behind a middle school and get them pregnant. You can eat a shitshow of food for 6 bucks and then drag your stuffed carcass across the street to the bakery where they have amazing pork buns for $0.75. Instant hangover cure. I'm offering ZERO info on where this place is because its tiny and I like being the only whitey in there. The owners racked their brains to come up with the name Chinese Restaurant, so, good luck finding it on google. Also, they make a limited amount of the steamed dumplings and they seem to show up instantly. If ever they run out before I get there, I might blow a gasket. The only thing that would make the place any better would be cheap beer to go with their heavenly grub. But then if they did that, I'd probably never leave the place.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Best drunk prank EVER.

Building a little make-believe city out of household items on top of a passed-out drunk friend is funny. Placing various body parts and other embarrassing things in the face of a passed-out drunk friend (then photographing them) is funny. Giving a passed-out drunk friend a less-than-flattering haircut (like Rick 'Wild Thing' Vaughn) is funny. Covering a passed-out drunk friend in fake blood and startling him/her awake with blood-curdling screams the next morning is funny. Carefully applying Japanese Kabuki makeup to your passed-out drunk friend's face is funny. Tying the fingers, toes, ears, hair and other body parts of your passed-out drunk friend to different parts of the room with string is funny. And apparently, according to this story, killing your 59-year-old, passed-out drunk friend (by stuffing a giant live eel up his ass) is funny in China. We've been paying so much attention to the rapid growth of the Chinese economy that we didn't realize that their practical joke game has blown ours out of the water. Shame on us.

Monday, May 3, 2010

"Good luck falling asleep ever again!"

My buddy sent this video to me, which was sent to him by an acquaintance with just the title of this post as explanation. I watch it every so often and it leaves me equally petrified every time. I don't know what it is, what it means, who these guys (girls?) are or what they were on when they came up with this shit. I do know that I am still trying to figure out if it's brilliant or just god-damned weird or both. I also know that I have been doing the hand thing much more since I've been watching this. Sometimes I will catch myself mid-conversation doing the hand thing. Sometimes I will be driving and steer the wheel with my knee while doing the hand thing. My last relationship ended in tears and apartment smashing because she found out that I loved the hand thing more than her. In short, the hand thing is a big game-changer. NOTE: I did a little research on the creators of the hand thing and they have several other videos that are equally/more disturbing. ALSO NOTE: I am not at all responsible for any harm that you do to yourself or those around you with the hand thing, this video or any other related interweb films that you find.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

How (not) to tend a bar

Regardless of what bullshit you hear, New York is a friendly city. I mean, I live in Philly, so my perception may be slightly skewed on this matter. But, in my opinion, on the whole, people are more inherently friendly in NYC. This is arguably because most New Yorkers are transplants from somewhere else- So, I would imagine that the "real New Yorkers" are probably pretty much like any other East Coast city urchins: rude, unaccommodating, lacking in general manners etc. I guess in order to qualify as a "real New Yorker" you have to have lived in the city in the Pre-Giuliani days when it was all crazy trannies beating the everliving Christ out of each other and Alphabet City pillheads gnawing at their own flesh. I guess that would harden anybody up. Anyway, if you are a bartender in New York, especially in a busy bar, like this 8th Ave. uptown brewery my buddy Tyler and I were in earlier today, you CAN and SHOULD be friendly and make a pantload of cash. This bartender was NOT. She sucked. Told us nothing about the menu. Extra snappy. Spilling shit, leaving customers hanging with empty glasses for 15 minutes at a time, rude to the barbacks, generally dumpy in appearance, no friendly banter whatsoever, one word answers to our questions. Really kind of a disgrace. The icing on the cake, however, was the fact that she blatantly overserved this fool sitting beside Tyler (pictured... sorry for the shitty photo, it was dark in there) and LET HIM SLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR AT THE BAR. Any doucheneck bartender worth half his/her salt would not stand for a customer throwing an epic chill like this right in front of them. The standard "drink up or get the fuck out of here" would have sent this guy waddling along down the road, but she basically just ignored the fact that homeboy was CASHED OUT for crazy long. It wasn't all bad though because we got some great riffing in at this dude's expense. Sorry guy, but this is classic fuck-with-the-bull-get-the-horns material, and you got off easy. I'm not mean enough to tie someone's shoelaces together. But that's fair play if you pass out in a bar in my book. But, yeah, bartender sucked cheeks.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

I Heart AC

If you have never been to Atlantic City, let me give you the CliffsNotes version of what the place is all about. IT FUCKING SUCKS. I had to go to a work thing there this past week and once again, my conviction has been reaffirmed. The first sight I was greeted with before entering the MAJESTIC (meaning dated and baffling) Trump Taj Mahal was a blood stain (pictured) on the wall of the parking garage. I can't really tell if it was from a beatdown or GSW, but definitely looks like a good one (meaning someone left Floor 1 "BLACKJACK LEVEL" in rough shape). I didn't feel like getting all CSI on it, but it was definitely a good representation of what the place has to offer.

Airport Oversized Infants

Dude, I hope you are happy. I hope you can hold your head high toddling around the airport with your bag that is WAY TOO SMALL TO BE ON WHEELS and your pink, anus-resembling mommy pillow/drool catcher. If you had any semblance of testicular fortitude, you would get a backpack, throw it over your shoulders and deal with either NOT SLEEPING or learn to sleep without that soft, supple, plush embarrassment around your neck... I will however give you +1 for resisting the urge to dress like a total sloppy, ice-cream social nap time idiot- Though I'm sure you had a good hard think when mom gave you the option by laying out both outfits on your race car bed. We are what Clint Eastwood lovingly refers to as the "pussy generation" (meaning failed man, not female sex organ) and this is a PRIME example why it is so.