Thursday, March 29, 2012

A Review

I’m running on about four hours of sleep right now, and I just walked in the door from work (my posts have always been written the night before they appear), so all I have for you today is a quick review requested by a regular reader from Emerson, NJ.

Vin Diesel frequently claims to have been a bouncer at clubs in Manhattan. I have no idea if this is true or not. Maybe he was. I never worked with him, nor do I know anyone who ever worked with him, but I’ve never had any reason to doubt his claims.

Until now, that is. This is why.

He’s apparently producing a show about a crew of bouncers working in New York. I have no idea what network is airing this thing, I don’t know what night it’s on, and I have no intention of ever watching it. I couldn’t even get past the trailer, so that’s the basis for my review. Here it is:

I’ve seen some stupid shit in my life, but this is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. Nobody who’s ever spent more than five minutes working in a club would ever produce anything resembling this absolute and utter horseshit. I’m very sorry, Vin Diesel. I like you. I’ve actually liked some of your movies, and you’ve had a nice career. I think you’re an interesting guy. But seriously, did you really ever work in a fucking club, dude?

You didn’t even come close here.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

A Date

Here is the story of a very bad date.

I met a girl a few months ago and got her number. We talked on the phone several times and had some things in common, so we went on a date. The date went well. We ended the night in a bar on the Upper West Side, where we drank until four in the morning, had fun, and decided a second date would be appropriate.

Second dates aren’t first dates. They’re more formal. You have to dress well, plan ahead, and, unless you’re an asshole, expect to spend some money. This is something I’ve learned. The whole thing is a process. It’s a shitshow. You’re supposed to be having fun, but there are rules you have to follow with this nonsense – and when you’re a little fucked in the head, as I was at the time, the whole affair can border on the fucking absurd. I’m not fucked in the head anymore, but I certainly was – at least in a dating sense – for quite a while, which didn’t exactly help my cause.

I took her to a sushi place the second time around. I love sushi, and she said she did, so I assumed it’d make for a very good start to the night. We sit down. She orders a bottle of sake. I think, “Okay, she wants to drink tonight. This is good.” I don’t particularly need to drink on dates – more on that in future posts – but it’s a big help, unless I have that one sip that zips me across that whole “What the fuck am I doing here on a date?” line I have a tendency to cross.

I always order the same thing: the sushi/sashimi deluxe, with one special roll. It’s plenty of food, but it’s not enough to bloat me to kingdom come if I’m planning on having a few drinks afterward. She ordered first, and that’s where our story begins.

She kicked off the extravaganza with the sushi/sashimi deluxe, then moved down the menu $20 at a time, ordering (I think) four different chef’s special rolls to go with her entrée. She also told the waitress to “keep it coming” with the sake.

At first, I’m thinking, “Okay, this might be cool. She understands how I like to eat, so she doesn’t want me to walk out of here hungry.” I wasn’t entirely sold on the situation, and I was a little worried about the check – there were drinks involved, remember – but whatever. I was giving her the benefit of the doubt. I was rooting for her not to be out of her fucking mind. Rooting very hard.

The food arrives, and the plates cover the entire table. It looked like a corporate fucking buffet: two full boats, five plates of rolls, two bottles of sake, and a 20-something ounce bottle or Kirin. Time to go to work, right? I started in on the tuna roll that came with my sushi boat, then made the mistake of veering my chopsticks toward one of the extra rolls she’d ordered.

“No!” she shrieked. “Those are mine! You can’t touch those!”


See, this could have gone one of two ways. Either she was being cute and playful, or she was a fucking loon. Really? Seriously? You had to turn out to be a fucking loon? But yeah, she did. She barely touched any of her food, content to sit there, drink sake, and blather on about some certification course she need to take for her job, like I gave two shits with all the number crunching going on in my head.

She then flags down the waitress and asks to have all the rolls she’d ordered wrapped, then orders yet another bottle of sake – her third. At this point, there’s smoke coming out of my fucking ears. I stare off into the distance for a few minutes, and then the waitress comes back with the containers and the bottle of sake.

The girl looks me straight in the eye, smiles, and says, “Now I’ve got lunch for the rest of the week!”

Tuesday, March 27, 2012


I’m back. I know you’ve heard this from me dozens of times, but I mean it. Seriously. I’ll be posting here regularly from now on, because I want to write and I need the practice. I’m no longer afraid of who’s reading, and I no longer give a shit if anyone I know wants to send angry emails or make snide comments. I spent years writing on this site before any of these people even knew it existed, so why I’ve let anything get out of my control in that regard, I have no idea.

I can also beat the living shit out of all of these people – and everyone they know – so I’m no longer worried about any of it.

And no, that last sentence wasn’t a joke. It’s crude and immature, but there’s a lot going on in my life right now, and I’ve been really fucking edgy lately because I’ve blown way too many opportunities for my own good over the past few years. There are myriad reasons for this, but those don’t matter to me anymore. If anyone I know has a problem with anything I have to say from now on, come see me personally. You know where to find me. Other than that, I don’t give a flying fuck.

So, yeah, I’ve been annoyed – at myself more than anything else. The past few years have been a nasty cycle of self-sabotage, procrastination, feeling sorry for myself, and a glaring failure to apply my energies to actually getting ahead. I haven’t gotten jack shit out of this deal but a few years older, either.

You know what, though? I’m still here, I’m still alive, and I’m several years wiser. I’ve been in the business world (sort of, kind of) this whole time, I’ve learned my ass from my elbow in myriad ways, and I’m not the same ignorant jerkoff I was five years ago. I’m convinced, however, that it’s essential to have gone through some shit when you want to create something, because if you haven’t gone through anything, whatever you’re trying to create will be total bullshit, and people will see through you. You write about what you know, and at this point, I know about “going through some shit” better than I know anything else in life.

So there’s your update. I’m going to make time to write here, I’ll do my best to make it good again, and we’ll see where things go from there.