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.