There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I decided that I needed a really original subject heading to talk about my favorite holiday. Now that I've grabbed your attention, I figure I should tell you what I'm thankful for. Actually no, instead I am providing something that perhaps some googlers can be thankful for. I'd noticed a recent surge in traffic at the blog lately and, since I judge that, if anything, my posts are getting shittier rather than better, there had to be some sort of explanation behind things. So I noted that an awful lot of redirects came from internetters looking for pictures of Mary-Kate Olsen drunk

In sort of a more Christmas spirit I suppose then, I've opted to not murder hollywoodgrind with redirect bandwidth traffic (even though it is negligible to their overall bandwidth) and host the photo here myself. And by that I mean for free on google.

In any event, I hope all readers and non-readers have a wonderful Thanksgiving because to me it is the bombinest holiday of them all featuring the five f's: food, family, farts, forties (at least at my Thanksgiving), and...Happy Thanksgiving you sons of bitches...

Friday, November 21, 2008

Friday Morning Emo

As I was walking (and periodically jogging as I am perpetually running late) to the train this morning I was aided, as always these days, by some tunes from my iPod. Sandwiched in between a couple of Daft Punk tracks was none other than the classic Dashboard hit Screaming Infidelities. That song always takes me back to the summer of 2003 when, for whatever reason, I was frequently listening to both that album and this one. Oh yeah, that's right. Why I brought this up in the first place idea.

Of late I've taken to toting my month-pass (drumroll for irony please) in this velvety light blue pouch that normally houses well, the linked image will enlighten. The first day I did so, I am pretty sure the train conductor, a female, recognized the velvet casing as she seemed to give me a mildly disapproving frown. The frown, however, could also have been prompted by my face. So then this morning I get my ticket holster out (needlessly it turned out as tickets were not checked) and to my right I see the exact same light blue velvet case for a train pass. The woman to my right was, I would judge, a roughly 40 year-old Indian woman, and not that all shapes and sizes (and ages) don't use birth control, but it was still a bit of a shocker to me. What I wonder is, did she see that I had the same? If so, did she know what it was? And then, did she know that I knew about her and that I might know that she knew that I knew? Who knows.

Last night my television viewing took a step in the right direction when I ignored Grey's Anatomy. I am now down to Gossip Girl, and I guess Lost when it returns but I think not having shows I tune into regularly is a good thing. Anyway, that's all I've got for now. I'm intending to throw up something of some sort (or perhaps some sort of something) before my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving, but if not, have yourself a great one.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Who in the Hell are the Oklahoma City Thunder?

One thing I've been trying to do, as I've mentioned before, is get caught up with sports once again. Though the internet makes it easy to see scores, and video highlights and, heck, even full games, I don't like to spend that long in front of a computer if I can (girlfriend shakes head) because I am in front of one, like many people, all day at work. So, this morning I was checking NBA scores and the headline Pacers beat Thunder despite Durant's 37 really caught my eye. My train of thought was: Thunder, who are they? Kevin Durant, I thought he was the top pick by the Sonics last year? Yes, I was literally that slow in putting it together. I knew that the awful shitheads in charge had decided to pass the Sonics franchise over to Oklahoma City, but somehow it had slipped my mind in the months between its announcement and the start of the season. Man, Frasier went to Sonics games...what the fuck?!?

Anyway, Gossip Girl. For a long time I had avoided watching it because I generally, well, don't watch TV. I'm not sure it's always been on Monday nights at 8pm but, if it has, that also proves an inconvenient viewing time for yours truly. I decided, however, to get ahold of the first 26 episodes (everything prior to the last two weeks) and I have no shame (although, maybe I should?) in saying I watched them all in a two-week period. Now sure, I'd watch them on my train commute, but I'd also be viewing them full-size on my laptop. So really, if that's not no shame, I don't know what is. But, as quickly as I was hooked, I already fear the shows demise.

First of all, Dan and Serena (this will make no sense if you don't watch the show) get together on pretty much the first episode. I think the writers have links to the OC so they should know that while interest can be stirred early, the relationship can't happen that early on if they are planning to keep the show running. But, unlike the OC, GG is based on a series of books, so perhaps this follows the book timeline.

Anyway, I'll spare you the total synopses details and just say that a lot of characters on this show are violently annoying, including Dan and Serena. The most reprehensible, however is Jenny Humphrey. When she decided to leave home (spoiler alert) I was really rooting for her to be murdered while hitchhiking. Sadly that hasn't happened...yet! And if you think that's fucked up, just remember, this is TV and she is not a real person. Also on the deplorable character list is Agnes who is recycled, surprise surprise, from her shitty role as the youngest Cooper on The OC. I will only mention that Serena's new love interest sucks (and is physically unattractive to boot) and is far inferior to Marissa's post-Ryan replacement from the OC, Volchok. Volchok gets style points since Cam Gigandet knows Krav Maga.

The most redeeming characteristic to the show is Chuck Bass, who is undoubtedly everyone's favorite character. He is meant to be sort of sleazy and evil, with a heart beneath it all, and a bit of a damaged background to maybe justify and explain it all away. But the real reason he works, along with Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald, is that they are the most complete characters on the show. Everyone else is, for the most part, pretty much a puppeted (not a word, but you know what I mean) caricature lacking realism. Yeah, I know it's a TV show, but I want some glimpses of humanity. That's why I struggle to keep up with Grey's Anatomy these days...everyone on the show seems to be the same character.

But shit, that is a lot of talk about Gossip Girl, and my tongue (keyboard) has been pretty loose with the profanity these past few posts; I've got to clean that up.

In closing, I long ago was a fairly religious reader and fan of perhaps the original internet blogger Maddox. He's been writing less frequently over the years, and his grumpiness can only be alluring for so long (to me). I did, however, come across this recent gem on puns, courtesy of the gf. The reason it kicks so much ass? I certainly fall under the umbrella of targeted hatred in that post.

Rock over London, rock on Chicago...

Friday, November 7, 2008

Anger is a Gift

Shout out to my boys Rage Against the Machine. Lately I have been one testy son of a bitch on my daily commute. I don't know precisely why, maybe it is the change of season, but good lord, for a generally mild-mannered Bruce Banner, NJ Transit and NYC walking manage to make me mighty testy.

I have taken to periodically leering at people who walk obliviously with their faces glued to their iPods, phones, and PDA devices. I'm not sure how expertly these people might walk anyway, but trust me, they certainly can't manage to walk while operating any of these devices. The thing is, like other walking-related issues I've mentioned in the past, I'm sure if I managed to bump into them they would consider it entirely my fault. Amen to that.

As usual though, it only takes little things to distract me from my silly anger. This evening approaching the tracks for a departing train was a perfect example. People tend to push and shove much more than seems necessary and the other morning I actually glared at a lady that literally kept slamming into me. This was on a packed track in Penn Station when no one was moving much, so the slamming motion seemed unnecessary. She gave me a good three feet or more halo after I evil-eyed her. So tonight I feel a mass slam into me, but at an awfully low height. I turned around, prepped to glare or perhaps even mention that the perpetrator should watch themselves, only to see an Indian boy, likely aged about six, who had barreled into me in the way that children will in public or private places. This brought a smile to my face, and I happily let the family walk ahead of me. After all, we're all riding the same train.

Anyway, next up I need to talk some Gossip Girl and mention how people always think I work at stores, so now I just strike preemptively and help them out anyway. Shit, I need to make like Stella, and get my groove back...

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Running (Your Mouth)

So for Halloween, my lack of creativity reared its head as I opted for my fallback costume of "runner." This was simple enough as I was/am a runner, and have a college singlet to accompany some awfully short shorts. I've often wondered, perhaps even in this very blog, what it is about runners that bothers people so much. I receive a LOT of feedback while running, and while some is positive and uplifting, a lot is rooted in seeming intense dislike that I've decided I will chalk up to jealousy. Honestly though, I have no idea. I should probably go around and ask people what it is that bothers them about a guy out in a pair of shorts and no shirt.

On this evening however, I was in fact shirted. Halloween spawns a lot of revealing costumes. For females, the stock costume is "slutty _______." Males have been known to dress as females or wear minimal quantities of clothing and, in a place like New York City, you surely will see some unusual sights (not just limited to Halloween). Point being, my outfit was far from the most ridiculous to be seen. And yet, as I sauntered through Chinatown with a friend in search of some dry ice, I found myself confronted by seemingly the only other non-Asian inhabitant of that section of the city. This guy got right up to my face, looked me in the eye and said, "I know what you are for Halloween, you're a fag." I assume he was expecting a bit of a rise out of me, but being called a fag is old hat for me at this point. I simply smiled and made my way into the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. Honestly though, when I'm running, I expect it (even if I don't understand it), but just walking around, and on Halloween no less? Guess we haven't come all that far.

Halloween turned out dope, as I was lucky enough to attend a gathering hosted by Jared of Just Jared fame. Jared=nice, generous, and pretty regular guy. A big highlight for me was meeting the blogger behind I'm Not Obsessed. Vera and her husband are good people and were kind enough to indulge me and my many tales of vomit and overconsumption.

Anyway, that seems like a good place to cut it. I feel at some point I should address that lately I've been having some bowel issues on my runs (having the runs, on my runs), but I'll save that for a whole separate entry, or maybe just confine it to my running log.

Gooooooooooooooooo Obama...
Thanks for stopping by…you stay classy Planet Earth.