Been Busy

Evil


Since there have been multiple emails to thehose [at] gmail about this topic, I figured I would address it publicly here... "Where has KillerB been?" you've asked. Well, I don't really know. I've been hearing things like, "He's been camping in New England with Sparks" and "He's hanging out with Sparks at Fisherman's Wharf."

But you know what I have not been hearing? Things like, "KillerB is busy planning his wedding." Well, that's not entirely true... Word has it that KillerB is working on a killer foxtrot routine for the big day. Awesome!

Cocktail hour

As previously mentioned, cocktail hour is serious business around our house. Most nights will find us sipping regular straight or mixed drinks - scotch, manhattans, martinis, etc. Catjjy is partial to the cosmopolitan, and I make a mean one. Just because Sex In The City isn't any good doesn't mean the cocktail stopped being delicious.

The drink of this summer is the gimlet. For the uninitiated, a gimlet starts with a martini's worth of gin - 3 to 5 shots depending on the size of your glass. Drop it into a shaker full of ice and add the freshly squeezed juice of one lime (hint: you'll get more juice out of your lime if you soak it in hot water for a few minutes before cutting it open). Throw in sugar or simple syrup (a pre-dissolved mixture of sugar and water in equal parts) to taste. Shake with vigor. Serve strained into an ice-cold martini glass. The result will be a light green, cloudy slice of summer heaven: equal parts sweet, tart, and herby (the picture above was taken after the first few sips). Though not quite as tasty, a vodka gimlet will do for those who don't enjoy gin. Using Hendricks gin instead of a regular gin will give you a cucumber gimlet – also yummy.

With enough sugar, a gimlet won't taste strong at all, and on a warm summer afternoon, it may seem the thing to do to knock back three or four. But proceed with caution. There is a lot of alcohol in these guys.

Weekends are for experimenting. Yesterday I cut open a fresh jalapeno and tossed two slices (with plenty of seeds) into the shaker with my gimlet. Kid duty interfered with my mixing, which allowed the un-iced mixture to stand for 20 minutes before being chilled and poured. The result – a gimlet picante if you insist on naming things – was fantastic. The jalapeno added a nice kick to the front that burned the lips and warmed the esophagus, but it mellowed the tartness of the lime. I highly recommend giving it a try.

2008 Tour de France - Stage 1 Results and Commentary

Evil


Very exciting start to the 2008 Tour de France! I'm liking the format this year: no prelude (who needs it!) and an uphill finish in stage 1. Brilliant! The uphill finish really broke up the field at the end, which made things all the more exciting.

Alejandro Valverde took stage 1 with an impressive sprint in the last 200 meters (after racing 197.5 Km -- crazy!). Valverde has a real chance to win the entire race this year, although it'll be tough if he and his team try to defend the yellow jersey this early in the race. They should give it up as soon as tomorrow and then make a big move in the 3rd week of the race.

Another one of my favorite, Maricio Soler, had a bad first day. He crashed toward the end and is now pretty much out of it for the overall standings. BAH!

Date or Die: Playing The Expectations Game

Evil


Earlier today, I watched the Yankees lose yet another baseball game. Even with the largest payroll in baseball, the Yankees are languishing in the middle of their division and most experts have already counted them out for the playoffs -- no division win; not even a wild card berth.

On the flip side, the Tampa Bay Rays are sporting the best record in baseball. Their payroll is minuscule, they finished last year in last place, and even the most generous predictions for the Rays at the start of the season were for them to have a "respectable" record.

Playing the expectations game is always tricky... in baseball, sure. But also in dating.

Yesterday was the end of what felt like a very long week, even though it was technically a short week thanks to the 4th of July holiday. That's how a long a week it was a work. I was content to spend the evening staying in and watching TV, generally hiding out and relaxing.

In the early evening, R texted me and asked if I was around and if I wanted to get drinks with her. Since she asked and since she's tall, thin, and has a pretty face, I was like, sure. We went to this place, known for their margaritas, that's no far from us. Some hotty sales rep from Patrón was there and offered us complimentary drinks. Score!

R and I chatted, though not about much. We don't seem to have much to talk about. My inability to appear engaging and funny when I'm with R is really throwing off my expectations. I should be able to do this! This is my game, baby! I guess it's like in baseball, where you're going up against a different pitcher every day. Sometimes the opposing pitcher is just lobbing softballs up there and you're crushing everything out of the park. But sometimes the pitcher is so tough, you're glad just to score a single run.

It turned out to be a nice night, so we took a slow stroll home. She lives 5 blocks away from me. I wasn't feeling that anything good was going to happen so I casually said goodbye when we reached my block. Back to chillin' alone in the apartment. It was still fairly early, so maybe I'd watch a DVD.

R texts me: "I'm restless... lol". Hmmm... interesting. We text back and forth a few times and decide to go back out for ice cream. Which eventually turned into taking a walk into Riverside Park, which is always fairly dark, fairly quiet. The fireflies were out last night. A few people and their dogs walked by, but otherwise it seemed like we had the park all to ourselves. This eventually turned into me walking R back to her place and at the corner of her block, she blurted out, "Do you want to come up?"

We had a nice time hanging out at her place. She was really hard for me to read, whereas with most girls, it's just the opposite. Me in her apartment was like a baseball team with a manager who just doesn't know what to do during the game. Bunt? Hit and run? Steal? Double switch? So I didn't push things too much. It was fun just to hang out. And I even managed to take a photo of us (above)... well, only part of her face and part of my arm. I think she has a nice smile in this pic.

Nickname Change

Evil

I'm not happy with "Toothy-chan" as a nickname. It just doesn't have a ring to it. But I can't think of another / better nickname. Argh! I must have nickname block. This is usually my specialty.

Anyway, I have to change the nickname nonetheless. So from here on out, Toothy-chan will change to "R".

Roar, Lions, Roar!

Catjjy and I were just watching the US Track & Field Olympic Trials. They did a human interest piece on an incredibly beautiful woman named Delilah Dicrescenzo. It seems the lead singer of Plain White T's met her one night and was so smitten with her that he promised to write a song about her. The song, "Hey There Delilah," got nominated for a Grammy and she attended the awards as his date. Adorable, though the report stopped short of saying how far this guy got for writing a ubiquitous song about her (love-love? mouth-love? hand-love? they should have finished the story).

How did this make an Olympics broadcast? She is a champion steeple chase runner - the one where you stomp through the puddles and jump over hurdles. She didn't make the Olympic team, which is a shame for NBC. But she did make the finals. Not bad for a hot girl.

How is this on The Hose? Amazingly, she ran track for the Columbia Lions (alma mater to more than a few Hosers). Three-time Ivy League champion steeple chaser. Amazing.

Roar, Lions, Roar!

Date or Die: Tips from Dmitri

Did anyone else listen to this? I'm not completely sure if it is legit, but it is pretty funny.

The back story is that my friend's friend's friend from work and her friend were out one night in the San Francisco Marina district and were hanging outside of the bars trying to find a cab. One of the girls, Olga, ends up meeting this guy Dmitri, and they talk for at the most 2 minutes. She hands him her business card and says call me.

Conversation between Mom and Dad

My dad hates using the phone. Its always a surprise when he calls, sometimes even to him. On several occasions, I have answered a ringing phone only to find him asking who he was talking to. I always found this odd, and because my Dad is over 70 I have on occasion worried about his mental state. This was alleviated a few visits ago. While casually reading a book in the family room, I noticed that my mom has this trick. She dials a number and throws it to my dad whenever he is on his computer playing online card games. He always knows its coming, so he knows to catch it but never knows who he is going to get on the other end.

Its fine, because he never actually wants to talk on the phone so he does not really care who is on the other end. He will just sit there with the phone to his ear, occasionally nodding and grunting in agreement while focusing on his card game. He could be talking to my brother or his accountant. Its all the same to him.

Anyway, I perked up and paid attention when I heard him say this

Dad - "I think I should call my sister"

My mom, who is usually happily ignoring my Dad even perked up....

Mom - "which one?"

Dad - "what do you mean?"

Mom - "you have two sisters"

Dad - "Yeah...so?"

Mom - "who are you going to call?"

Dad - "when?"

Mom - "you just said you were going to call your sister"

Dad - "who? (names his youngest sister)"

Mom - "Is that her name?"

Dad - "No"

He then sat down and watched soccer with me for 4 hours.

Me - "Are you going to call anyone?"

Dad - "What for?"

Menace

Yesterday, I went to an Orlando area Target with my mom to get some baby gifts for a new addition to our extended family. On the way out, my mom dared me to repeatedly bang the shopping cart on one of the oversized red spheres set up outside the target to keep shopping carts from randomly flying into the lot. I was like ok...and started doing it.

When a security guard walked over, she made a move like she was going to hit him. The dude flinched. She smirked...

"that's enough" she said.

and we left...

I have no idea what that was all about...

Crisis

Evil

The Evil Twins (#1 and #2) have been counseling me through a bit of a personal and professional crisis. "Professional" because my work is involved, but mostly "personal" because it's about getting old. I feel like I am racing against the clock to accomplish things in life, but the clock is quickly running out.

I've been thinking about a paper that I read some time ago. Among other things, the paper discusses "Why Productivity Fades With Age." (Focus of the analysis is on scientists, specifically: mathematicians, physicists, chemists, and biologists. I am none of these things officially, but I was educated as a computer scientist, so I still naturally identify with the scientific crowd.) There are some startling data points in this paper, including:

* Nearly a quarter (23.6%) of all scientists make their most significant contribution in their career during the five years around age 30.

* Two-thirds (65.0%) will have made their most significant contribution before their mid-30's.

* 80% will have done so before their early 40's.

Check out the histogram below. Notice the very steep drop-off once you pass the peak.


The study also took a brief look at non-scientists as well. Check out the graphs for jazz musicians, painters, and authors.

Other interesting tidbits from the paper (and my own Googling) include:

* Orson Welles was a mere 26 when he wrote, produced, directed, and starred in Citizen Kane, which many consider to be the greatest movie ever made.

* James D. Watson made the greatest discovery in biology in the 20th century at the age of 25, winning the Nobel Prize for it. (Co-discovered the structure of DNA with Francis Crick.)

* Albert Einstein won the Nobel Prize for his work on the photoelectric effect, a paper that was published when he was 26 years old. (Einstein published his paper on general relativity when he was 36, although he had done work on the topic earlier in his life. Still, 36 is not that old.)

* Alan Turing, often considered to be the father of modern computer science, was 24 when he submitted his momentus paper, "On Computable Numbers." This paper provided a formalization of the concept of the algorithm and computation (The Turing Machine).

Well, my mid-20s are already long gone, but I feel like I still have some productive years left. I'd say 8 more years. I told the Evil Twins that I'm giving myself til age 40 to accomplish all the major things that I want to. After that, it's fading into post-40 obscurity whether I like it or not.

I also talked to Lil' A about this yesterday over 3 martinis. We decided that we need to make it onto the 40 Under 40 list.

On matching

I am a father and most of the post-worthy events in my life revolve around a 2-foot tall guy who craps his drawers. But I try hard to self-edit posts so as not to turn The Hose into a parenting blog. However, a recent event involving the boy challenged one of the long-held pillars of my personal vanity, which is a topic all to familiar to Hose readers. And so...

For most of my adult life, I have stood steadfastly against people wearing matching outfits. It's the primary reason I never joined the armed forces. In high school I opted out of matchy-matchy team sports in favor of swimming, where participants are free to wear whichever goggles they like. The height of my disdain came in the summer of 1994. My almost-a-girlfriend and I cruised down to Dallas for a day at Six Flags Over Texas. There were all sorts of idiots dressed alike - church groups, soccer teams, even couples! The worst of this motley lot was a couple wearing matching XXXXL t-shirts that said, on the front, "I don't see nothing wrong..." followed by "with a little bump 'n grind!" on the back. Class acts all the way.

As Hose readers can imagine, this aversion to matching created a daily struggle in the xTian-Sparks household in the late 1990's. "We can't both wear our Regis-inspired light-green dress shirt with light-green tie to Flute tonight."

Then I had a kid. My feelings started to waiver. First of all, he has much cooler clothes than I do. One shirt with a picture of a helicopter on it was so cool I wanted one for myself. He eventually outgrew it, but for Fathers' Day we got an awesome present - matching replacement helicopter shirts (pictured).

I was pretty pumped (finally, my own helicopter shirt), but The Cha was absolutely elated. He is barely old enough to tell day from night, but he recognized right away that we were wearing the same thing. He spent the whole day pointing at his shirt, then pointing at mine. It made his day, which made my day, and probably made Catjjy's day, too.

So a revision to my rule on matching: wearing matching clothes is a surprisingly effective bonding tool for fathers and (very young) sons, but should only be pursued when the outfit in question is cool enough for the father to wear even if the son is not around. Obviously, a helicopter shirt fits that bill.

I can already imagine the controversy this post is going to ignite.

Bargain Hunt

I had to go to Bed Bath and Beyond today to get one of those drain catchers - that plastic thing that prevents debris and such from clogging your drain.

Well, I found myself in Filene's Basement looking at discounted jeans. And right when I went to answer my cell phone, this Asian woman wearing scrubs takes the last pair of jeans from the rack. Argh!

So I follow her around the store giving her dirty looks and sighing kind of loudly. Finally, she puts them down, and I grab them to try on. They didn't fit anyway, but I'm not a bad person, right? She should be saving lives or something else like that.

Crazy Face Time

Periodically, I like to give some face time to Bruno. I think it makes Nora happy, and also keeps him competitive among all the toddlers on the Hose.

This post isn't all praises, though.

You might have heard that KenTak3 and I have a merger forthcoming, and if you know him at all, you will not be surprised to hear that he wanted some glamour shots of the two of us recently. I was pretty reluctant, but he said he wanted to capture some memories. And, then he pleaded that he really wanted Bruno to participate since Bruno is important in our lives, so I finally agreed.

One outstandingly humid, near-record day a few weeks ago, we find ourselves cavortiong around the Meatpacking district: click, click, click. I guess it was pretty hot for all of us, but we managed to get through the hour or so of pictures. Except for Bruno. He didn't do too well in the heat, I guess. Check out this picture of what would otherwise be a great photo of me and KenTak3, until Bruno went in there and messed it up.

Thanks Bruno!

Is This Wrong?

Evil

XTIAN has been telling me about how this girl has been flirting with him on Facebook. Big deal, I thought. Any ugly girl can flirt with an Alfred Molina lookalike. But today, XTIAN IM'd me her name and told me to check out her pics.

YOWZAHHH!!! This girl is HOT. Right after I saw her pics, a real ugly thought flashed in my mind. I was like, damn, if XTIAN starts bumpin' nasties with this girl I will kill myself out of total jealousy. Jealously. What an ugly thing. XTIAN is like my brother. Can't I just be happy for my brother? What is wrong with me?

What a Combo

Last night I went to see Lucha VaVoom at the Fillmore. I wasn't sold on the idea of this show at first because it combined 2 things that I've never had much interest in - Mexican wrestling, and striptease. Mexican wrestling has always freaked me out a bit because of the masks, and burlesque has always seemed a bit too old timey. But what do you know - put them together and you've got yourself a real treat. Who knew. This makes me question all of the other things I've assumed don't go well together.

Update

Evil

After 6 days, Steph and I are tied. Both of us are down 3.5 pounds. What is all this voting about Steph beating me in a landslide. Or beating me at all for that matter. I'm more than holding my own!!!

Who should I share this with?

I was mucking around with a summer playlist on a rainy saturday afternon.

It takes a pretty long ride over the course of it, starting very electric picking up some tempo, then slowing down again...It may seem a bit chaotic but this is what i am listening to right now...I always go a little more electric in the summer...

I have to admit a couple of things
I am really enjoying the new moby...what is it, 1999?
Book club - you will really enjoy that adele song methinks...
That cover of the Bee Gees Inside and Out by Feist is pretty strong
The "She and Him" is totally forced much the way I try to force "nyotaimori" into every conversation..

Girl alert for Evil

Evil,

Please be advised that an attractive, young-ish, Asian, tennis phenom who almost certainly has big calves, is throwing a wrench in Wimbledon. She is a Chinese national, which would make your mother very happy. She is rich, at least for her age, having picked up nearly $2 million prior to this event. And she will probably be in New York later this summer for the US Open. I have not seen close-ups of her teeth, but in all other respects, she seems perfect for you (i.e., exceedingly out of what ought to be your league). I suggest you pursue her with vigor, at least once you are down to your ideal weight of 168.5 lbs.

Dentist

Evil


Mamacita's quiz reminds me of a recent email from my sister...

Hello! As you may already know, Jason had dental surgery last week to remove his extra adult tooth hidden behind the gums. In order to do this, the surgeon also had to remove the 2 front baby teeth to get at the extra tooth. Thankfully, Jason was super brave and bounced back from the surgery the next day. I thought you might want to see Jason's "new look" and a picture of the 3 teeth that got pulled out. The tooth on the far left is the extra tooth.

Don't Blurt Out the Answer!

With the markets and economy in the toilet, we are amusing ourselves at work doing puzzles.

Here is the latest one. Can you guess?

I dig out tiny caves, and store gold and silver in them. I also build bridges of silver and make crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. Sooner or later everybody needs my help, yet many people are afraid to let me help them. Who am I?

Proof Evil might be Gay

This was neck and neck for a week between the xtian/evil pairing and the sparks/xtian pairing. Somehow though in the last 12 hours the xtian/evil pairing came out ahead.

Evil once showed me how you could "stuff the ballot box" so to speak.

I wonder, did Evil manipulate these results? Is Evil trying to tell me something?

Who Is This?

Evil
Here's another one. Remind you of anyone you know? (Hint: You have to use your imagination a bit. Mentally picture this person with +20 pounds. And that's just in the face! In terms of overall body weight, make it +120 pounds.)

Who Is This?

Evil

This is Alfred Molina. Does he look like anyone you know?

Proof I might be gay

I really love this song, Antony from "Antony and the Johnsons" on vocals

Game On!

Evil
It's now Evil vs. Steph. Game on!

Steph does a nice job of summarizing everything on her blog, so I won't repeat it here. I'll just say that I've got this one in the bag. I know Steph has a pretty large following even among Hosers. It's almost like when the Mets play the Yankees at Shea Stadium. Even though the Mets are officially the home team, there are more Yankee fans in the house.

The Hard Truth

Evil

KillerB and Sparks are both brilliant posters. But they're both the proverbial flash in the pan. Those guys are great when they post, but I don't think either of them will ever have the longevity and XTIAN and I have.

This Is What I've Been Up To

Imagine this scene, but replace the hot chick and her hot ass with... me.

Poll Results - You Agree!

Thanks for everyone for voting and for several of you for voting me for me multiple times. Clearly, I am doing great. I'll see you later, i'm going to go cry now...

This Is The Plan, People

Evil

In order to lose 17.5 pounds to make my Wii Fit happy, I need to start getting serious. From now on, I'll need to do two-a-days. After work, will go to the gym. And then after the gym, will work out on the Wii Fit. I think that is reasonable. My gym workout is usually some treadmill running, which the Wii Fit is not good for. I'll use the Wii Fit for the various balance, coordination, and yoga exercises.

I'm a big fan of the downhill skiing and ski jump games. Once Evil Twin #2 gets her Wii Fit, I'll be challenging her to a ski-off!

Kicks & Giggles Week 2 - 17-6...Wetter is Better

A chill ran down my back

It could have been sweat or rain, but I knew better. It was fear. A bolt of lightening had just flashed across the sky. I looked over at girl who had no clue. She was wondering what we were doing out there, why no one had called the game.

20 minutes earlier, the rain started, we were standing around waiting to play. The opposing team ran around the block as a warm up. K&G stood around and chain smoked.

Killer B's strategy for the game was simple and inspired
(1) On defense keep everything in front of you. Big plays only happen when you have to turn around and chase a ball
(2) On offense, let's play small ball. Most of these teams don't communicate well, when a ball is in play it looks like 6 year olds playing soccer. No one knows what to do

The d**chebag was pitching, Timothy Stack-alike, Killer B and I were manning the outfield. Everything would be ok.

I spent an inordinate amount of time fraternizing with the other team and later during the game trying to talk to the prettiest girl ever, who plays for the team we wooped up on last week, who was on the other side of the chain linked fence, waiting her turn.

I won't lie. I was scared. The thunderstorm brought out two of my biggest fears.

My fear of lightening - Even as my parents made me walk barefoot in the street and had Dominicans pelt me with baseballs to toughen me up, they built up in me a steady fear of lightening. Whenever there was a thunderstorm we were forced to unplug everything and sit quietly in our dark house, praying it would all subside. My dad periodically talking of this fool or that and how they foolishly died hiding under a tree, trying to stay warm. Now here I was, challenging the Gods in a stupid gold headband. I just wanted to sit in a dark room and cry.

My fear of busting my ass and embarrassing myself - In the second inning our third baseman busted his ass hard rounding second and ruining what would have been a home run. If I had gotten cut, I would have cried like a girl.

I resolved right there that neither would happen.

Of course, on the next play, a ball sailed over my head and i had to bust it to catch up to it, which I did half heartedly.

The next inning, I asked off the field and quietly positioned myself close to PS 142, just in case God decided to strike us down for our insolence.

The rain eventually subsided and I almost stopped sucking...sticking to the small ball plan and scoring a run during a rally when our team actually fell victim to the Mercy Rule, we had scored so many runs. During the rally, Timothy Stack-alike yelled "miss it" as four of our opponents huddled around a pop up. A very intense fellow got in his face for his unsportsmanlike conduct but luckily for all involved Mr. Intense remembered he was a thirty year old playing kick ball and mellowed out

I still sucked a little bit, overplaying a ball in the field that I should have caught easily. Luckily, the Killer B backed me up and as I slid on the wet ground I balled up into the fetal position so Killer B could get the ball back in play.

Killer B was inspired. the guy with the wrestling shoes can't be stopped, not by opposing teams or calls for reasonable base running. Our third baseman proudly showed his scars at the bar afterwards.

I ran into the opposing pitcher in the bathroom. He asked if we practiced. I looked at him confused. He talked about how good we were at communicating and backing each other up on plays. I rushed back and told my teammates.

Our long, slow, rain soaked march to glory continues...

Experts Agree!

Evil

Thanks everyone! By a 2-to-1 margin, Hosers think I am more a "sweet, sincere guy" than a "douche bag". Indeed.

I May Be Chubby, But At Least I'm Not Old

Evil

I still can't believe Mamacita went and got a Wii Fit and didn't even tell me! I thought we were friends. Anyway, I had to run out and get one for myself and just tried it out today.

When you first play Wii Fit, it makes you take a test to determine your Wii Fit Age. Recall from a previous post that Mamacita's age is 52. YIKES!

I'm 32, but my age on Wii Fit came in at 35. (The screen that shows the number 35 went by too quickly and I couldn't take a pic in time.) Not bad, right!? I don't actually understand how Mamacita could have come in at 52. The test they give you is not that hard! What is going on with the Mamacita? Does she have too much stress? Is her balance very bad? Does she have a weak core? Is taking care of Bruno taking too much of a toll on her? I am starting to worry.


On the downside, look what Wii Fit had to say about my Body Mass Index. DOH!!!

I guess it's official... I am overweight. Well, I already knew that. But here is the kicker. Wii Fit says that to get into the "Normal" range, I need to get my BMI down to 25.00. Well, then it calculated how much weight I would have to lose (because I don't think I will be growing any taller at age 32) to get down to 25.00 BMI... 17.5 pounds! YIKES! That's a lot of weight I have to lose to be Normal. Well, I guess I will give it a shot.

Maine attractions (get it?)

Catjjy and I are ditching The Cha this weekend and heading to Maine for a wedding. He is very broken up about it, but we are excited about seeing the Killer B’s.

In researching establishments to hit while we are there, Killer B 1 came across a topless donut shop. It is actually part of a strip club, but it is open from 6am to 11am. Presumably, you buy the donuts from topless girls. This raises a host of questions.

Toplessness is generally a good thing, when applied to attractive women (like the readers of this blog). Donuts are certainly a good thing. Combining the two just might be brilliant. Consumers have shown a willingness to buy their coffee in an attractive Starbucks coffeeshop, even though the exact same Starbucks brew is available for $1 less at the gas station. Will people pay $1.50/donut at the topless place, versus $0.50/donut at the regular donut store? And if so, do you have the most profitable donut store ever?

Or does the whole thing fall apart when you combine toplessness and food service? Are we all a bit squeamish about half naked people handling our food? And perhaps more importantly, do you lose the interest of your audience when you replace the highly-engineered titillation of a strip club at midnight with the mundane everydayness of an operating donut shop at 7am? Is the same topless girl just as sexy doing a pole dance to throbbing R. Kelly beats as she is, say, sweeping up the area where someone dropped a tray full of bearclaws?

I suspect Catjjy and Killer B 2 will veto an early morning run to this particular donut shop, but we will try to get our friend The Cock to check it out and report back. In the meantime, are there any other business models whose profitability could be greatly enhanced by simply removing the employees’ shirts?

Un Fit

I would like to request that we remove the reference of Wii Fit under "What We Love."

This morning, I woke up very early to what I thought would be a happy day. The sun was shining, I ate some Cheerios with fresh strawberries, and there was more than enough time to begin Day 1 of my new summertime fitness regimen.

I should have gone for a run in my neighborhood, since there are no people in the streets at such an early hour. Instead, I decided to try out the new Wii Fit game.

After setting up my profile, I take a series of diagnostic tests. Wii tells me that my Wii Fit age is 52, and that my body is "18 years weaker than it should be". Wii tells me that it will help me through a program consisting of strengthening exercises in order to meet my fitness goals.

After hearing this news, I get right back into bed.

The only somewhat consoling factor is that KenTak3 takes the diagnostic test, and learns that his Wii Fit age is 42. So, he is still pretty weak, but not as weak as me!

Booooooo!

In summary: I do not love Wii Fit, and the feeling is mutual. So, how about we put a roasted chicken over there to the right instead?

Evil, Meet Someone Who is Truly Evil - Margaret Fulton

It looks like someone else is out there taking credit for your work. How terrible!! Some people have no shame. In this case that person is Margaret Fulton, of Sydney Australia. It seems she decided to take some liberties with her journalistic integrity by passing your roasted chicken off as her own!!! Unbelievable.

Even more shocking, she went back in time to May 2007 to do it. She obviously didn't think you (or your blogging bros) would think to look in the past to catch her in a lie. Gotcha Margaret!!!!

Looks like she'll be eating crow for now on. HA!

Check out this link. Does that bird look familiar?

http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2007/05/28/1180205137044.html

Something Small, But It Makes Me Happy

Evil


I make roast chicken all the time. Because it's so simple to make and delish. I am pleased with the result every time I make it. But I recently decided to try roasting with the convection feature in the oven turned on. What a win! Turns out that the convection makes the thing roast 25% faster (which is why people use convection ovens)... but it also puts an awesome crisp on the skin. My roast chicken will be done in 20 more minutes. Hungry!

Note: Above pic is not my chicken. Just a photo I pulled from the web.

Wooooo

Killer B #1 and Evil, Bon Jovi and Sambora have nothing on them

xTian just wants to thank all his brothers and sisters in Christ for braving the cold rain to sing a few songs with him.

As everyone knows, my birthday is next Sunday but I really wanted to Karaoke. So we did it early.

Now I'd like to list the people in alphabetical order the people who managed to ruin my evening by not showing up...

kidding, kidding

(sort of, now you know why Mamacita is last on the contributers section)

Blog World Meets Real World

The Killer Bs are pretty torn up about this. Sorry for the downer, but Tim Russert has been part of our Sunday morning ritual for quite some time. It's hard to imagine the upcoming election without his questioning of the candidates on Meet the Press. It's a quiet night here in Brooklyn.

Perhaps we'll post again Sunday afternoon.

Kicks & Giggles: Week 1 Recap

Killer B is a great coach.

In anticipation of our opening match, the team spent an inordinate amount of time coordinating uniforms. It was agreed that everyone on the team would wear gold American Apparel headbands, wristbands and knee high socks. Someone went and got all the stuff, dumbass that I was, I showed up with the wrong colored socks and felt awkward about it the whole night. We all agreed to be properly hydrated.

Earlier in the day, the coach and I debated how he should distinguish himself from the rest of the team. Killer B committed to carrying a clipboard, to document his decisions and measure his success. We discussed the idea that he should perhaps consider a gold visor rather than a headband or potentially a cowboy hat. I asked if hitting the tanning salon was necessary.

Winning and losing is one thing, but no one will take you seriously if you don't have a proper tan. I could not get to the tanning both, so instead I moisturized like a demon. Just because I'm gray doesn't mean I have to be ashy...

Sock issues aside, I was someone to be taken seriously. I was well moisturized and well hydrated. My headband was positioned in such a way to keep my luxurious hair out of my eyes much like a young girl would. As we amassed at the playground amidst a sea neighborhood kids riding scooters and ballers, you know, ballin, I got worried. Someone asked what the rules of kickball were. Another fellow seemed to be putting on wrestling shoes. One guy looked like Timothy Stack. Even our coach showed up in khakis. Worried...

Killer B quickly put things in order, reading from the clipboard he started diagramming our defensive alignment, showing everyone what to do. He then went over simple base running.

A girl nominated herself to play first base. I walked over and mumbled under my breathe that the first baseman will have a lot of balls thrown at her. She looked at me like I was an ahole. I had confused her for the girl who asked which way to run after she kicked the ball. I felt like a d**che. I also noticed this girl was rather pretty. Good opener by xtian.

killer b quickly set up a killer b formation that leveraged our strengths. I was in centerfield standing between a girl who had no idea what she was doing and Timothy Stack. Killer B lined up in left field playing the deep and tricky green monster that this asphalt jungle wrought on us.

Needless to say, I was a vacuum cleaner out there, running around frantically and catching most everything thrown my way, at least ten balls i think. I misplayed one ball that I had to hustle over to get to. My accelerated pace making the ball bounce off my chest. I was demoralized. The girl who had no idea suggested that it was "good hustle". She said it as though I were going to cry. I realized I was on the verge of tears. On the next play I overplayed a ball that was going to timothy stack and doubled up the person I had let on base. I stopped crying but I was still sweating.

We won. 7-3 or something, suffocating the other team with our defense and being crafty with our ball placement on offense. We had a good team. The guy who was wearing wrestling shoes completely ignored me when I was playing first base coach and over ran the runner in front of him. Still he is a weapon.

The girl who was sore at me for suggesting she should not play first base was (A) awesome as a first baseman and (B) a really cool person. I talked to her a nice long bit at the bar after.

somewhere in my 3rd or 4th pitcher I realized I was ripped and departed. I love this game.

Counting is hard

My week of counting drinks is done. Per the NIAAA guidelines, I had a total of 39.8 drinks (I was so close), with an avgerage of 5.7 per day and a standard deviation of 2.7 (though the distribution was not normal). During that time I had 25 cocktails, beers, or glasses of wine, meaning that my average NIAAA drink per glass is 1.6x. I think my experience on that front would be similar for any liquor drinker and most wine drinkers (i.e., that the definition of "drink" is smaller than what people actually pour for themselves or consume at a bar).

I'll note that it was a highly functional week. No blackouts or hangovers, no staying up late or sleeping in or missing work. Seems like the NIAAA drinks/week standard is perhaps a bit off.

Why Mamacita is Crabby (Example #1)

Usually, I believe that attending college was a smart move. Yes, it amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars that is still taking years to pay off, but for the most part, I like to think that the years and dollars were worthwhile.

What really agitates me is when people ask me a question, and I don't know the answer, and they say "What?! You went to ABC University?!" like the fact that I went to ABC means that I ought to know everything about every possible topic.

This happened to me today as I got into an argument with a subordinate about whether a gallon of oil weighs more than a gallon of water. Subordinate tried to use the argument that "a pound of feathers weighs the same as a pound of gold" and I pointed out that we weren’t talking about weight, we were talking about volume. So, a soda bottle filled with sand would weigh more than soda bottle full of milk.

At some point, Subordinate would not finish the debate, and his comment still stung me. Being the tenacious pitbull that I am, I furiously searched Google, but was unable to find substantial backup on this.

Can someone help? Or, am I really a crabby person who was wrong today?

LOOOOO-SERRR!

Evil

I am so glad I am not this guy. What a loser! LOSER! I mean, check out his quote:

"I feel like a loser right now and I don't know why."

What's Wrong With Me?

Evil

I don't know what it is, but I've been so sluggish lately. It's been ongoing for about a month now. I can't even bring myself to do the most basic things.

- Like taking my dishes from the sink and putting them into the dishwasher.

- Like taking my laundry (which is already washed, folded, and delivered to my apartment by the Chinese Laundry place around the corner) out of the laundry bag and putting everything into my dresser.

- Like replying to any personal emails.

What's wrong with me? Am I in a funk? Am I depressed?

Public Apology

This is my public apology to ET#2 and Evil for being a crab-apple on Friday. Further, even though it was my first time playing Rock Band, we managed to lose 8,000 fans in competition as "the Hosers" band, so I really feel responsible for bringing down the whole site and giving us a bad name among the Wii community.

On a separate note: why am I listed as the last Hoser? Shouldn't it be either alphabetical or by tenure? I feel like it's a little sexist - meaning that all the dudes are first, and even Bruno is before me. Sparkes makes some little clever banana peel comment and suddenly he moves up to third position?

Looks like I'm a little crabby again. Must be going through a rough patch.

Evil = Asshat. Wiimbledon = Fiasco

Wiimbledon was today. You'll remember how excited Evil was about Wiimbledon. He was so excited he posted a picture of baseball players fighting (wtf?). He was so excited he used an atomic clock so that his application was sent .001 seconds after registration began. He was so excited he picked out the track suit he was going to wear ahead of time. He was so excited he invited friends over last night to practice so that he would be sharp this morning.

Then Evil got drunk and played Rock Band all night long so that when 10AM rolled around he couldn't get himself out of bed, much less out to Brooklyn. Thus, Evil has earned himself Complete and Total Asshat status. Congrats!!!

As for myself, I smoked Elizabeth in the first round, which was too bad because she had clearly invested a lot of time putting her Mario outfit together. Karma wasn't on my side, however, as I was matched up against her boyfriend in the 2nd round. He's a good boyfriend.

The Cha takes over

It seems that The Cha is the new face of The Hose. I must be the only person (perhaps excluding Catjjy) who sees this as a reasonable trade for Padma.

It's been a big week for me, Hose-wise. Three posts, several comments, and now the boy as frontman.

P.S. - Whose banana do you have to peel to get your name listed as a Hoser on the right-side of the screen? Is there voting involved, like there was to get Manolo kicked out?

Don't Mess With The Evil

Evil


This is what I'm going to do to the competition at this weekend's Wiimbledon tournament.

Brush with fame

Catjjy, Cha and I just got back from lunch near my office. Guess who was sitting right next to us. Go on, guess. WRONG! It was Sammy Hagar, on-again-off-again Van Halen frontman! He apparently lives around here. His wife looks like she was probably incredibly hot 18 years ago, and is still pretty. His teenagers look completely average. Both Sammy and his wife were wearing t-shirts advertising Cabo Wabo, which a quick Google search just informed me is a resort in Cabo San Lucas and a brand of premium tequila, both of which are owned by Sammy Hagar. That's a little bit lame. Like him wearing a Van Halen OU812 World Tour '85 concert t-shirt.

He is shorter than me. Eat that, Hagar.

Nerves are Starting to Take Hold

With just about 39 hours before Evil and I put it all out there for the good folks of Brooklyn to see I'm starting to feel some nerves. We haven't received our draw yet, but I can already visualize Evil and I cutting our way through the field of 128 to meet in the finals. Something about single elimination seems so cruel though. To think that after all that practice we might be eliminated before we know it by some dopey 12 year old with donut crumbs on his chin really makes you stop and appreciate what Roger Federer has done. It also makes you hate kids. I'll be wearing my all whites with blue wrist bands and my heart on my sleeve. Let's win one for The Hose, Evil.

A task: Bring a pencil to the bar this week

First, it is an honor to be here. Now a task for you.

I was recently reminded of question on the standard medical questionnaire my doctor had me fill out last time I went in. It asked how many alcoholic drinks I consume per week. I put down something in the high-teens (which I knew was seriously low-balling it), and got chided by my doctor for bingeing like a sorority girl. If I recall correctly, the highest box one could check on this specific form was 21+ drinks per week.

You have probably seen this question too, phrased the same way. The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (“NIAAA”) presents its safety scale on this drinks-per-week metric. For men, 5-6 drinks per day (35 drinks per week) is heavy or problematic. For women, the hurdle is 3-4 drinks per day (a mere 21 drinks per week).

It’s worth noting here that the NIAAA considers a “drink” to be 0.6oz of pure alcohol. You will find this amount in one 12oz can of 5% alcohol beer, or in one 5oz glass of 12% alcohol wine, or one 1.5oz shot of 80 proof liquor (i.e., most any vodka, rum, bourbon, gin, etc.). This definition can lead to a very different answer than just counting the number of glasses you put to your lips. Depending on the size of the glass, there are three to five shots of gin in my martini, thus three to five “drinks.” Same goes for Xtian’s Manhattan and Killer B’s scotch on the rocks. The wine math, too, can get tricky. A generous 8oz pour of your favorite Sonoma Zinfandel (appx. 15% alcohol) is two full drinks, not one. Likewise, a pint of 5.51% Bass is 1.5 drinks.

On a typical evening, my wife and I put the baby down at 7:30pm and then enjoy a cocktail. I might have a small martini, a scotch, or a bourbon and Diet Coke (each between 2 and 4 “drinks”). We then split a bottle or wine with dinner (half a bottle of wine is about 12.7oz, equivalent to three full “drinks” if the wine is 14% alcohol). There’s your problematic 5-6 “drinks” per day, even though I only drank three glasses. My weekly count goes up even further when you account for wine at lunch on Fridays, occasional outings with friends, trips to nearby vineyards, drinking on airplanes, and having a few beers on a hot Saturday afternoon. I’m probably realistically at 40 a week.

It’s my suspicion that the NIAAA survey is grossly underreported, leading to highly skewed hurdles. While I don’t doubt that I’m on the high side for my peer group (mostly because I always drink with dinner), I’m guessing that more than a few regular Hosers would come in above 20 drinks (a few of you came close to that in one night last time I was in town). I plan to actually count my drinks over the next seven days, using the NIAAA math. I encourage you all to do the same and report back to the post next weekend. What do you say La Troisieme? Xtian? Killer B?

Unofficial Start to Kickball Season

Later this evening myself and X-tian begin a new journey. X-tian will take this journey as a Player, while I will take the journey as a Player-Coach (step out of line and you're riding the pine hotshot!). Nonetheless, the journey will end in the same place for both of us, the hallowed halls of NYC kickball lore.

Look for a redacted photo of X-tian and KillerB1 hoisting a big, fat, trophy full of sweaty kickball beer here 7 weeks from tomorrow. Also look for a despondent Evil lurking in the background lamenting his decision not to play.

Great TV Theme Songs

Outdated Theater Review

A few weeks ago, I attended a preview of the new Neil Labute play Reasons To Be Pretty. I have a standing date with one of my favorite people in the world. Every spring she and I hit the Lucielle Lortel Theater and take in the latest mind f*ck that Labute puts out. Its a great time every time.

This show as really compelling. Like every other Labute play its about dudes who are sort of d*cks and can't grow up. Like The Shape of Things and Fat Pig (which was I'll admit...AWESOME)its about everyone's contemporary fixation with body image.

This show was different though. For the first time, at the end of the play someone actually learns a lesson and grows up. That's a first for one of his plays. As we walked out, I turned to my friend and smiled "maybe there's hope for me yet".

"hah...you wish"

:-)


Here is the NY Times review of the show.

10 years passed...

This was weekend was my ten year college reunion.

I missed my five year ostensibly because I was in Brazil or California at the time and could not break away. But lets be honest, the idea of connecting back to where I went to school is not really something I do naturally. I loved my college experience. Many of my best friends in the world were made right there on campus. So when a flurry of texts came encouraging me to hit a party at the Steps on Campus I was hesitant but considering it. I was leaving a birthday dinner at Wolfgang’s and was debating going home and passing out. This was the first time I ever debated going to a reunion of any sort. I relented, hailed a cab, and proceeded north.

In the cab I thought it through, if Sparkes had committed to coming or some critical mass of the larger crack pack had agreed to attend I would have been more excited. Still, aside from a flurry of emails marking the 10th anniversary of the Mr. Shoulder-Birthday-Party-Stripper-Party-Gang-Violence-Extravaganza there was not much momentum for meeting up in NY. Dr. Orgy was in, but the Dr. is in for pretty much anything, thus the nickname. J was also in, but who could guarantee he would show up. That dude doesn’t get anywhere before 1 in the morning.

I found them on the lower steps drunk amongst others who I either could not remember or had chosen to forget. I sighed and braced myself for the worst. Thankfully, my fears were dumb. This was the greatest experience ever.

The first face to jump out at me and greet me was Mich…Mich is awesome. We randomly became fairly good friends in the late 90s. The only time we would ever be friends was the late 90s in NYC as people in the early twenties and even then it was mostly because she was dating my roommate. Her enthusiasm in seeing me was genuine. That felt good. I had not seen her in like 8 years. She’s such a sweet, fundamentally good person. We had this fun conversation. After a while I started counting the hugs we exchanged over the course of the evening. We stopped at 9.

Next, an attractive redhead walked up to me and asked if we had ever been friends. She phrased it like “I am pretty sure we hung out a lot”. We had. I struggled to remember her name but we talked for a solid 20 minutes. Not knowing what to do, I invited her to coffee. She’s married. Her husband was 5ft away. He was a dude I knew. Awkward, J was walking by so I latched on to him and made a quick get away.

J fondled my back (odd) and started yelling about how I never come out and also suck. I had a drink with him like 2 weeks ago. How much of me does this guy want exactly?

I found Dr. Orgy fuming. Our senior year, we organized a spring break cruise and ended up going with a bunch of really “cool” girls. Everyone on this trip agreed that the girls got the raw end of the deal, no one should be stuck on a boat with a mid 90s version of the Crack Pack. We got that name for a reason. How many gas pedals does one need to witness anyway? The Dr. had just walked up to these women to say hello. No response. When I found him he said hollowly “Wow, it feels just like ten years ago, we suck again don’t we”. I felt for Orgy and was glad that an hour later as we made our exit he yelled about how they sucked at the top his lungs as they crossed the street. Sparkes put this all in perspective via text by suggesting I remind Orgy that he’s married and it just doesn’t matter any more.

But before we got to that, I thought it would be funny to show Orgy that it was just him and that I in fact did not suck. I looked over at them congregating. In the crowd was the U. The U and I were friends; I hung out with her quite a bit right up till we went to b school. I walked over and said hello. She feigned enthusiasm then walked away promising to come back…Never happened. Woah! It really is 10 years ago.

The richest guy I know cruised over and amused me in two ways
 He laughed and pointed as Dr. Orgy forced his email on someone “you’re man’s email is actually oorgy1…”
 He suggested, rather loudly, that I do something untoward to alum that he casually referred to as a “horny librarian”.

I got an ego boost when a woman walked up to me and asked what I did for a living and what I drove. This was exciting. Watching her hastily walk away, I wondered if I need to come up with a better answer/career.

Lastly, a very attractive Asian girl walked up to me and said hello. It took me a moment but I recognized her as JLim. She was a dorky but really funny girl I used to work on Computer Science projects with. We used program to Cure records. (btw, how strange was I?) She was really cool and suddenly she was amazing looking. Like in that movie where Rachel Leigh Cook is the ugly girl because she wears glasses. I thought for a second that maybe I could be Freddie Prinze. She was married too…bummer... but it was great to see her. Great to here she was doing well. Great to hear she loved teaching. Just like it was great to see that everyone else was well.

It was all great, really. At the end of the night I found myself at Coronets watching J and Dr Orgy spill pizza grease on themselves and I smiled. Most of my friends are married and happy, including these guys. Lately, I have spent a lot of time wondering if I should shake up my life. I am so dissatisfied with so many parts of it. But really what do I have to complain about? I’m healthy. I never stop learning. I enjoy NY the way I always wanted to - checking out concerts, going to museums, watching people all day. I have these awesome friends. Apparently even at my least confident moments I left some sort of lasting impact on the people I have come across. Most seemed really happy to see me.

I was all smiles the rest of the weekend…

Near Perfection

Evil


People often tell me, "Evil, you're the perfect man." But it's not true. I'm merely NEAR PERFECT. Not totally perfect. It's hard to live up to people's high expectations. BTW- Check out my near perfect performance on In Bloom. 99%. 642 note streak!!!

I always suspected this was the case

Apparently there is a shortage of workers in Iowa.

Swimming Pool

Pretty song...no?

Booooooo

I hate Sex and the City. I really do. I can’t imagine a worse punishment in life than being with one of those broads, except maybe the brunette. She would probably make a good mom.

I hate it for a few reasons, here’s a quick rundown:

10 years ago, Sparkes and I would get drunk in the middle of the day and walk around the Meatpacking District talking to hookers standing outside of HELL you know just to ask them what’s up. Now it’s a Disney World for Euro-trash and 19 year old girls from Bergen County.

Women who navel gaze all day about dating on their blogs – enough! All of you…back to work…or something

Old chicks screaming about c*ck at the top of their lungs – you’ve seen it. You’re out somewhere getting a few drinks and some ladies are knocking drinks back like water and talking like sailors. This is what I do! I don’t need to be met crass comment for crass comment by someone who should have developed a better vocabulary 15 years ago at Wellesley. Seriously, Evil and I have a schtick, it looses all effect if we’re trumped by two blondes who thinks being 19 lbs too thin is a good way to maintain their youth.

Outsized expectations – Klosterman argued that Lloyd Dobler ruined it for everyone. I am fairly certain it was Mr. Big. Thank god Chris Noth is starting to look really disturbing…

I think that’s why I really hate it. I didn’t watch this show but it sure was popular when it was 1999 and the party didn’t look like it was ever going to stop. Those were good times. Spending money like we didn’t care, staying out till all hours. Manolo was in the strip club every night. Shoot, loose women abounded…awesome…

What now?

HMMM

I think this chick is full of it

I wanna go

Memorial Day BBQ

Evil

XTIAN called me last night, sometime after we both left the Memorial Day BBQ, hosted by KillerB. XTIAN and I agreed that having KillerB as a friend is 100% upside. He hosted a great BBQ yesterday. We sat on a rooftop, drank beers, and ate various types of meat that KillerB grilled up. The most impressive thing, perhaps, is that we weren't even on KillerB's rooftop. In order to "host" this BBQ, he had to commandeer the rooftop of one of his friends. And that person couldn't even attend the BBQ herself because she had to be at work.


I'm not sure what Manolo was up to yesterday, but I'll take a wild guess and say that he was alone, lonely, and having a terrible time with himself.

Warning!

Evil

Was at a Memorial Day rooftop BBQ yesterday (more on that later). La Troisieme was there and he was positively out of control. He's a dangerous man. Beware. If you run into la troisieme on the street, the only thing that will save you from being hurt is if he greys out before he does any damage on you. But best to avoid him altogether if you can.

Head Trauma

On Saturday I went hiking with the Killer Bs and 5ft tall Korean girl who curses like a sailor.

It was a fairly interesting hike. I recommend it. What I do not recommend is walking into a tree, which I did. Bad idea. Further, its a horrible idea to expect Killer B #2 to be any help at all. As I walked into the tree, I made a fairly loud noise which was met by a shriek that would have woken the dead, not from me though, but from her. I had to interrupt my own dramatic attempt to writhe around in pain with a plea for calmness. It sounded like this

"Ouch...please relax"

then I went back to writhing around in pain...

Experts Agree!

Last week, I noticed I desperately needed a haircut. Normally, I would venture over to Astor Place, where I would read a comic, just purchased at Forbidden Planet, as I waited around for Ledo to free up and do some damage.

That Saturday however, I was pressed for time so I just went down the street and had someone more local cut my hair.

She took a preposterously long time to get it done, given that she hardly cut anything at all. She also charged more than Ledo, and her breathe smelled like cheetos ( I could not figure out if that was a plus or a minus).

She will forever be my friend for one reason. At one point she stopped cutting, turned to the woman next to her and pointed out in Spanish "this guy has great hair"

This conversation carried for a bit, in Spanish. Both women agreeing my hair was awesome. I could not keep from laughing. Eventually it dawned on them that I could understand them.

"Yes, your hair. It's very nice. You should be proud"

I agreed. I should be proud. More than anything, I was emboldened. I faced the week that came with a renewed vigor and pride. No one could stop me. I was in the mood to take what I wanted at all times.

So Friday when I relayed this story to Et #2 and she agreed there was really only place to go. I licked her face.

Like a Billion Dollar$

I decided to walk home from work tonight, which includes a stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge. Not long after getting on the bridge I saw a security detail ahead of me, walking at a pathetic pace. In between the muscled shoulders of the security folks I saw the diminutive head of our mayor. Our billionaire mayor. I don't have much patience for slow walkers, let alone slow walking billionaires. How do you get rich lollygagging around? So I checked the bike lane, then stepped around to pass this lazy crowd. And then it happened. As I tried to shoulder my way past without getting hit by a bike, or tackled by the security detail, Mike Moneybags' allergies caught up with him, he turned his head left to save his female slow-walking partner the indignity of catching a Bloomburger in the face, and sneezed on me instead. A full on, wet, allergy induced Bloomburger.

"God bless you"
"Thank you"

And so passed my first ever conversation with a billionaire.

Two Big Weeks Ahead

Evil

It's only Monday morning but I'm already gearing up for the next two weekends!

Next weekend is Memorial Day. On Saturday, I'm going to my parents' house in Queens because my sister is in town and she'll have the two little munchkins (the niece and nephew) in tow. They're always fun to hang with. Sunday, I think there will be some BBQ'ing action, if we can convince someone with a back yard or a roof deck to throw a BBQ.

The following weekend is going to be even bigger. Evil Twin #1 will be in town! All of us who are curious will be able to see first-hand what depression has done to Evil Twin #1. And after a good laugh, we'll go partying to chase away the sadness. And my friend The AY will be in town too! XTIAN and I are going to help her make an audition tape for the next season of The Bachelorette.

Manolo Has Some French Toast

I didn't know what to have for breakfast...great choice...thanks DullerBiatch!

Manolo Orders Some Chinese Food

I just finished a late lunch from Canton Chinese Restaurant. When I order chinese, I usually end up ordering the same thing (General Tso's or Shredded Beef)...

Anyway, today I ended up ordering the General Tso's lunch combination (hot/sour soup & pork fried rice). After finishing, I dutifully went for my fortune cookie. I always follow protocol and add the "in bed" part to whatever fortune I get...

I opened my fortune cookie and there was no fortune...

The question is...since I had no fortune, does the "IN BED" part applies or is it a wash...I hope is the latter because even though it may be true, it is still somewhat sad to say:

Manolo has no fortune in bed.

So Shady

If you haven't figured it out already, "You Know Who You Are" in my previous post is from The Hose. Let's call him or her "Shady".

Well, Shady emails me today (like he's giving me a tip) to tell me that he's come across an add on Craig's list: http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/clo/681923295.html.

Here's a shot of the ad, in case someone buys it really quick and the link gets taken down.

Can you believe it??? He posts his own used tie on Craig's list and wants me to buy it for a profit! That is so shady. Furthermore, the post says that the person is selling the tie since he doesn't wear it anymore... like it's out of style!

No thanks, Shady!

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Dear You Know Who You Are:

I want to buy this item from you that you have. I tried to buy it at SwankyStore's website since you recommended, and thought it was a successful sale, but SwankyStore has now just outright cancelled my order, since there are no more of these in stock. You must have bought the last one.

I am not happy.

I have decided that you do not need this item, as you have many other options. So, are you going to sell me this at discounted market value or do I need to come to see you and beat you up to get it?

Love, Mamacita

Manolo, We Hope You Like Jail!

Evil

Manolo will go to no ends to ruin The Hose. As if his graffiti incident were not bad enough, he decided to up the ante by ruining one of our polls. By stuffing the ballot box! Here's what the poll results looked like:

As several Hosers have pointed out, we don't have 40 total readers. So these results (much like Manolo's nether regions) are fishy right off the bat. It indicates ballot box stuffing, but doesn't necessarily implicate Manolo. Does it?

Well, remember this post? Specifically, this passage:

"Next step involves hosting an election about my future without telling me. I didn’t know there was a vote taking place until Monday with an hour left before polls closed. You know how little time that is to make an informed decision and vote. Luckily, I was able to access six computers and make my voice heard…otherwise I would have lost by a bigger margin."

Ahhh! A known and convicted cheater!

And the evidence doesn't end there. I went into the Blogger voting tool and looked at the IP addresses of where the votes came from. Of the 18 votes for "No Manolo makes me cry," 15 of those came from the same IP address block (a class C subnet)... in Florida!!! The only person I know who lives in Florida who would have the incentive to do such a thing is none other than Manolo. This is an open and shut case (much like Manolo's butt cheeks at a biker rally).

So the TRUE poll results, if you count the 15 identical votes as just 1:

By an overwhelming margin, Hosers think The Hose is a much better place (Like Heaven!) without Manolo.

What Did I Do?

Evil

Does Nora hate me? Does Zandrea hate me? Why? WHY?

Getting Into Trouble

Evil

Oh no. OH NO! Trouble is brewing with the Snaggletoothed Girl. And by trouble, I mean the good stuff that later (probably) leads to messy stuff. I don't know what to do.

Apologies

Evil

The management of The Hose sincerely apologies for the recent vandalism of our masthead logo. Obviously, it was the work of a cyber terrorist, aka Manolo. Rest assured that we have reviewed our security policies and made several adjustments so that this sort of thing never happens again. Thanks for sticking with us, loyal readers!