Let's see...I took a shit...twice...

After finally rising at noon, which was still about, oh, 4 hours before I thought I'd rise after a NONSTOP 10 days or so, taking TWO shits was among the most productive things I've done all day. And WHAT shits they were!! WOW!! EPIC in scale! I almost wanted to whip out the tape measurer and perhaps document it somehow. Have I just crossed the line? Good. Anyway, I LITERALLY have sat in the living room, online, for more than 12 hours now...occasionally getting up for food. I did take a shower, too, in an effort to revive myself...only worked temporarily. Actually, more than being tired, I just have an annoying cold and it's wearing me down. I intended for today to be so productive...more trips to various stores! Bringing some order to the Xmas-week CHAOS that is my bedroom. Instead, NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. Naturally, Dipshit's day was similar. The TWO of us didn't leave the house. That's right, neither of us have even left the fucking house. So I sat in the living room and he sat in his room, both of us online, both TVs going at varying decibals. And, of course, his various phonecalls. I tell you, EVERY time I have a rare day like this, he does, too...the 2 of us together in a confined space. It wasn't that bad, despite my earlier rage...but it was still agitating. How fucking fascinating is this minutae? So let's recap...double shitting, online perusing, TV mainly on mute, eating, shower. Hell of a way to spend the final Sunday of 2007. I REALLY should've gotten off my ass to do something. I'm kind of disgusted with myself. Not like I was feverish or vomiting. Ugh. Naturally, i'll justify it now by saying "I needed it" after my exhausting 10 days and annoying cold. Yes, Gary, tell yourself that...wasted time...

That Dipshit moratorium?

Well, I just referenced him, so I guess it's over. Wow, 12 days! Admittedly, I haven't seen him much, what with him being away for Xmas, then me being away. But in the, oh, 90 minutes he's just been home, my blood pressure's already boiling over. I don't even have the strength to write much now, and still DO wanna keep my diatribes on him to a minimum, but I WILL say I REALLY think I will soon embark on Operation Fake Endless Phonecalls to give him a 5% taste of what I have to endure. I'll turn my phone either off or put it on vibrate, and sit here TALKING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS to no one over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...for a few days. At the very least, it'll allow me to be creative. Like i'm in my own play. With no audience.

He also acted according to script when it came to my being away for a couple of days. I SOMEhow had the luck to avoid him till this afternoon, even though I got home at 4:30pm yesterday. On cue, when he first saw me, after my initial EXCRUCIATINGLY pained "hey," he followed with "were you housesitting?" This infuriates me on two levels. #1, I owe him zero explanation for where I am. #2, he thinks I'm housesitting whenever i'm gone. Yes, I've done it a lot. But i've also gone away a lot. He ALSO thinks I have all of 2 friends (hmm, tho with everyone fucking married with children and unable to communicate till the kids are off to college, he's not far off on this point), so I very deliberately said I was "at a friend's in CT." No name, just "a friend." Though even saying "CT" was too much info. *Disclaimer...I DO have a 2nd friend he's not aware of in CT, so this explanation for my absence IS plausible. OK, that's more than enough on him. I hate him and detest his presence more each day. Cheerio!

Jesus' birthday just ISN'T what it used to be...

And I JUST made the fatal mistake of looking at pics from Christmas '97, which absolutely sealed my melancholy deal. Listen, I had a great day on paper...parents, brother, relatives, perhaps my best set of gifts EVER, people liking what I got them, too. But I must say, there's been an undercurrent of sadness and anxiety running through me all day. It can't be just me? It's well-known fact that many people get depressed during the holidays. But I FEEL like it's just me...unless everyone else is a better actor than I am.

The cop son of the tenants downstairs set me off as soon as I left the house -- he used to live here, knows who I am...but couldn't even turn around from doing shit in his car, parked RIGHT in front of my house, to say Merry Christmas? THAT, my friends, is a prime example of why I prefer the coast absolutely clear when I enter or exit my apartment...unspeakably AWKWARD encounters -- or, actually, NON-encounters -- like that. So next time i'm telling you about wasting precious moments of my life WAITING for my hall or front porch to clear of agitating fellow tenants, KNOW i'm not nuts...merely abundantly aware of the always looming possibility of an Awkward Social Encounter. I was THISCLOSE to extoling a holiday greeting to Cop Fuck, but my luck, he wouldn't have turned around and I'd just feel like a fucking ass. He's a fucking prick...and spare me any "maybe he's shy" bullshit. Have you ever met a shy cop?

Thankfully, the festive Indians in Dunkin Donuts perked me up a bit when I went in to fetch "surprise" donuts for the fam. After that, I spent 10 minutes wrapping a kitchen trash can in the car...yes, I got my father the gift of trash. For YEARS, my parents' kitchen trash can has embarrassed me...old, worn, torn, soiled, uncovered. My periodic outbursts of CAN YOU GET A NEW GODDAMN TRASH CAN have fallen on deaf ears. So I decided to take action and buy them one. If that all isn't ridiculous enough, the thought occurred to me last night..."could there SOMEHOW be some sentimental attachment my mother has to this piece of shit?!" Yup, there is. I couldn't FUCKING believe it when she shared this news today. Are you ready? It's my old diaper bin. From the 70s. Unreal. It looks every day of its age...unlike me, i'm happy to report. So while mom and dad both were happy to get a fresh, pleasing, larger, more efficient trash can, mom's already plotting a NEW use for The Battered Green Diaper Can...Attic Wrapping Paper Holder. This is my life.

The day also involved my very first Christmas visit to a Turnpike rest stop. The bro needed coffee, and while I could've waited in the car, my neverending need for social analysis meant I HAD to take a gander at who was having a Burger King Christmas dinner. On the way out, we noted the truckers and how much THEIR holiday must suck...and thus began our 45-minute meditation on how Christmas just isn't what it used to be. While the ungodly mournful Snow Patrol album played. I offered the theory that maybe it's because Christmas for us was SO GREAT for so long, so our expectations are higher. We were so lucky as kids...and teens...and into our 20s. Still are, don't get me wrong. Oh, it's too late to get fully into this...and you don't wanna be bogged down by me. I need to finish my rum-spiked egg nog and watch THREE'S COMPANY...end my Christmas '07 in an "all is calm" way. 4:15am...MERRY CHRISTMAS and to all a good night. Make no mistake, I'm blessed.

Struggling through Christmas Eve mass...again

Man, I am OFFICIALLY so NOT a practicing Catholic anymore. It's interesting...I reviewed my blog from last Xmas Eve and was shocked to find that I actually "got" something from mass. Well, I got NOTHING tonight. There was not a MOMENT that I enjoyed being there. I don't mean to imply it was misery...it's just one hour out of my year. But I believe nothing and get nothing. The choir annoyed me. The decorations...eh, seen them MANY times before...nothing new and exciting. And the congregants? Christ (no pun intended), the turnout was pathetic. Worst I've ever seen. At least when it's crowded, there's people watching and maybe running into old chums or foes. I was so completely bored. And vaguely depressed. I just hate being in that church...too many memories. To top it off, there was a bum in the side aisle to the right of us...who stank like he soaked in a tub of urine for 6 hours before he came. I instantly noticed the smell, but it somehow took a bit for my parents and brother to catch on...first to the smell, then to the cause. I instantaneously assessed it as "homeless smell," and found the culprit with a quick glance around. There was a brief humorous moment when my brother took my subtle "THAT way!" head jerk to mean that it was MOM who stank. No, no, mom smelled pretty...wasn't her. Sigh. Just one hour a YEAR, Gary, one hour a year...kept saying that to myself. But the whole thing kinda symbolized how ALL of Christmas has changed to me...the passage of time and all its consequences...ugh. Funny how I still got communion, though. Hell, I was hungry...and itching to leave the pew. I then proceeded to giggle up the entire aisle like a 12-year-old, greatly amused first by the insertion of bells into a hymn, and then by what I ascertained to be "unmannered public schoolers" engaging in hugs and handshakes as they passed each other in the communion line. I PRAYED I'd find my composure by the time the priest placed the Body of Christ into my hands...and I did. WHEW! It was a close call, though. Will I be 50 and laughing inappropriately at mass? I can only hope. So Christmas Eve 2007 has come and gone...and...and...well, it's just not the fun it used to be. Though I say that in a Resigned Adult Way; I'm actually in a pretty good, calm mood...despite the fact that WINGS has somehow scored a slot on TV Land's late night schedule. Alrighty, time for egg nog and one final gift wrap before bed. Gotta get to sleep before Santa comes!

3:17am till 4:52am

That's the time I JUST spent at Macy's and JCPenney's at Newport Centre Mall in beautiful Jersey City, NJ! A mere 5:32am now...um, yeah, I'll get to bed soon enough. I've been perversely yearning to hit an all night store during the Christmas season for YEARS and I finally did it! It was about as surreal as I expected it to be...YES!! I felt like I was in NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Naturally, I took a couple pictures to document my latest freakish act. I was surprised just a tad, though...it was EMPTY. I mean, I expected it to be not packed...but I really thought more than there were would be there. My guess is that a lot more were there till like 2am, and the REAL freaks, that is, the irritating morning people, will start sauntering in about 6am. I, however, was there in the TRULY dead of night...JUST the way I wanted it. I wish I'd talked to someone -- I was hoping for some seasonal/night owl bonding with a stranger -- but the pickings were THAT slim. The most interesting people were a bizarre Harvey Fierstein-esque sales guy -- I thought he was JOKING with his voice at first, but NO! -- and a delightfully sardonic sales girl who stated out loud that she was about to shoot herself in the head, then proceeded to bitch about how "nasty" NJ people are, giving as an example how "they just throw their McDonalds stuff out the car window." I wanted to applaud her, but settled for making sure she saw me laughing, thus letting her know I wildly approved of her 4am SASS. Oh, and I didn't buy a damn thing; I really didn't NEED to. I went more for the experience. If I saw something suitable for someone, I would've, but I pretty much have all my gifts...I finished THAT up EARLIER tonight...er, last night? It's starting to blend...I mean, it's 5:52am now. The final icing on the cake was proceeding to go through FOUR red lights and one stop sign on the way home. I have fucking things to do...these lights are pointless at five in the EVENING; I certainly wasn't waiting at them when I was the only car in sight. So EVERY move I made was devoid-of-slow-moving-humans...JOY to the world indeed! I even screamed MERRY CHRISTMAS out loud once I got to my car...and why not? Well, it's 6:07am...and to ALL a good night!

See, this is what I mean about the stupidity of my fellow Americans...

The new Nicolas Cage film, NATIONAL TREASURE, made more than $45 million this weekend. This, despite across-the-board God awful reviews...which followed the God awful reviews of the FIRST installment. HOW is this now a franchise?! I seriously need to finally invest in a fainting couch. There is not a fiber of my being that longs to see this film. That longs to fork over cash. That longs to invest precious time. WHO the fuck ARE you people?!?! Are you really, REALLY so clueless about what to do with your most precious commodity...which -- I'll help you out here -- is TIME. Is Going to the Movies REALLY such a NEED in your lives, so much so that you'll sit through ANYthing just to fill some empty void? And I DO believe this goes much deeper than anyone realizes. I DO believe it's, yet again, about people afraid of being alone and/or having to be creative. Which is stupid. Of course, I'm overanalyzing to some healthy degree here...many people SIMPLY are STUPID. And walked out of NATIONAL TREASURE giddy and content. I guess this concludes my latest nasty swipe at my fellow Americans, where I deem most of you morons and pronounce myself smarter than you are. Happy holidays!!

Mild Christmas weather...a pain in the ass

Heavy sigh. I don't live in fucking Atlanta...or even Richmond. I want it CHILLY. Like Arctic chilly. Highs in the 20s, lows in the teens. And some snow on the ground would be nice, yes. I'm not optimistic this year about a "true Xmas feel...with an expected high around 40 degrees. Guess it could be worse, though. Least it won't be RAINING. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to dodge strong and balmy southerly winds and a severe thunderstorm threat on my way to Target, where I'll try desperately to maintain my holiday patience and smile...

Apparently, the word MAMA renders it a "Mahogany" card

Nothing else about the card was, um, African American. Just MAMA. There wasn't even the usual drawing of a black person...i'm sorry, African American. So I guess I COULD have gotten away with giving it to my mother...who is white. Now that I think about it, I think I HAVE gotten a Mahogany card for a white person before. And white people DO say MAMA, too...in the South. Think the Ewing brothers addressing Miss Ellie...though I guess that was spelled MOMMA. This card was also TWO dollars cheaper than a comparable "white person's card." What's THAT about? Yeah, I have my ideas. I was pissed off I had to pay more if I wanted MY mama to get a card that properly ID'd her as a white lady. Fucking cards...it's all such a scam to make money. My aim's always to get the cheapest card possible. Who the fuck pays $4 for a card? What a waste. Write "I love you" on a fucking Post-It. Tonight was great, though...I went in with the purpose of buying 3 cards...MAMA, DADDY, and BABY BRO. So imagine my delight when I found a coupon promotion in the card aisle...buy 3 cards and get FREE WRAPPING PAPER!! YAY!! A $4.99 (plus tax) savings! Combined with the after-Christmas 75% off wrapping paper I got for like $1.50 last year, I should be good to go for at least 5 years! If only I were black, I'd have saved even MORE money tonight...

They're screwing with Washington Square Park!!

I hope you didn't have plans to stroll through the center of it and sit next to the fountain...because you can't for, well, YEARS? Hard to say, but as of TODAY, they blocked off the center of the park. It's funny...I missed the obstruction by about an HOUR apparently. Dammit! It seems the park is embroiled in controversy, as the parks department has decided to CHOP DOWN decades-old trees AND move the fountain!?! NYU's apparently got a lot to do with this...wanting a bigger space in the park for graduation. Ugh. I read about it briefly a couple weeks ago when activists were still fighting over it...but I guess they lost. So there I stood, trying to get a picture of the tree by the arch when a woman approached me and asked to get my feelings on "all of this" fencing...on tape. Um, OK. Super eloquent, it was not. I hate being put on the spot for an impassioned speech, don't you? But I'm not that concerned it'll be shown at Sundance. It was interesting, though, to talk to this 60ish English woman who's lived here for 40 years. I felt very...very...I don't even know. Activist-like? I spoke to her for a good 10 minutes. SEE how gracious I was today!? I used words like "shameful" to describe my thoughts on tearing down ancient trees and restructuring a historic park. And it's true...but the whole conversation seemed funny to me. I kept trying to appear Super Concerned as she ranted to me, afraid i'd laugh...despite agreeing with her. Will that be ME in 30 years? Fighting City Hall with a video camera? Anyway, so she gave me internet info and i'm gonna fire off another nasty email...this time to the NYC Parks Department. It's action@comptroller.nyc.gov if the Washington Square Park "redesign" angers YOU and you'd like your voice heard. Put it to the attention of Jeff Lieber/Washington Square Park. That's what this lady told me, at least...I can't really find a "Jeff Lieber" when I google. So, yeah, if you wanna be a tiny bit of an activist, write an email. Seriously, idiot politicians fucking with historic landmarks fucking angers me. Hmm, THAT'S what I should've said on the video...

Gary's seasonal 9-hour stroll through Manhattan

An absolutely FANTASTIC day...despite miserable late day rain, though I largely avoided it. From 12:30pm till 9:45pm, I walked from 41st Street down to Spring Street, then BACK again. In between, I had lunch with an old college acquaintance I haven't seen in YEARS before lugging her luggage to Penn Station, then Christmas shopped at ENDLESS stores, then savored 2 Blue Moon beers with another friend, then treated myself to McDonald's, and ended my romp, fittingly, at Macy's for MORE holiday gift perusing, before huffing back to NJ. Oh, yes, and I also wound up chatting with an English woman activist and being filmed for her documentary...but more on that in the next blog. I really cannot express what a wonderful time I had. Sure, some slow moving dolts annoyed me, but overall, I was consumed with the holiday spirit. As I've said before, too, I people watch like a sonofabitch, and NYC is the best place to do it. Merely walking the streets was a joy. I was even more polite than usual, saying "excuse me," "thank you," "have a good day," or "have a great holiday" constantly. Then I let a guy who may or may not have been ahead of me order his beer first, even after he said I was there first. I also shrugged off numerous jolts to my back by drunken customers bumping into me in the cramped bar. They said "excuse me" and/or "i'm sorry," mind you, but I wasn't bothered by it in the first place. Dammit, I EVEN had a smile on my face -- honest! -- half the time I walked the streets. It's such a cliche, but I wish people could be this nice to each other all the time...there was definitely a friendliness permeating the island. I also actually walked at something resembling an actual "stroll" a lot...not my usual marathon pace...though it should be noted, I was ALWAYS conscious of moving out of the way of faster walkers, a thought lost on too many. Oh, and the new New York Times building is quite dazzling, I must say. Yeah, this blog has been rather boring...nothing controversial, little profanity, not that funny at all. I'm rather weary after walking for more than 9 hours, and nothing I wrote could match today's NYC experience. You had to be there. You had to be ME. And you're NOT, are you? Another one of those days where I'm beyond grateful to live where I do. You can't beat New York City.

"Classic" Letterman from '98...Cher & The Twin Towers

How utterly bizarre it is to use the word "classic" to describe 1998, and yet...it's almost a decade ago. This Letterman episode is actually from late that year, just about nine years ago. It seems like yesterday and 30 years ago at once...an uneasy feeling that comes more and more as one ages. And so we have the shot of the World Trade Center at night in this episode...honestly, it feels like having lived in another dimension to view it. It's dreamlike. I don't have to tell you. Then there's Cher. Like my transition? I could've used a cliche newscaster-esque "switching gears" comment, but I do try so very hard to be original. It's almost more remarkable NOW that this 52-year-old frequent-punchline of an entertainer scored an out-of-nowhere #1 single with BELIEVE. It is SO odd. Good odd, but odd. And #1 for a solid month. With an accompanying top five album. Twelve-year-olds were grooving to a 60s icon!?! God BLESS our enduring national treasure, Cher! And thank you, Mr. Letterman, for another slap-in-the-face reminder that you blink, POOF, and a decade of your life is gone. That's meant to be a positive statement...

Dipshit moratorium

I'm done. Well, for at least a week...through Christmas. Ideally forever, because i'm sick to death of being stressed by him AND wasting my time writing about him...even though it's cathartic and, apparently, entertaining to others. I can't imagine NEVER writing about him again. But for the next week...and hopefully much longer...I'm done. Finished. Tis the season to be JOLLY. Not CONSUMED with murderous RAGE! The birthday of Jesus is almost upon us! And it'll open up my creativity to opine on OTHER things. Perhaps broaden my blog appeal to church groups from the Midwest. There, I feel cleansed and reborn already! As if...as if i'm in a manger in Bethlehem! Swaddled in a newborn's clothes! Wait, i'm sorry, i'm flashing back to a sordid weekend in Bethlehem, PA back in '96. This has NOTHING to do with the Baby Jesus. GOOD tidings to ALL!

Dipshit's nicely stacked big red plastic cups in the bathroom garbage

Standing at my toilet today, emanating yet more urine into my bowl, enjoying the release of it all...I glanced down into the trash can to the right of the bowl. There I spied 4 big red Solo plastic cups nicely stacked into each other...you know, the ones you'd get at kegfests in college. And I got to thinking several negatives about Dipshit. Actually, the first is KINDA positive...how it's the most organized thing I've ever seen him touch. Lord knows pots and pans and pantry items don't have that zen structure to them. And how thoughtful of him to reach into the trash to organize them! But then I got to thinking -- as I have many times before -- what a fucking burden his cups are on the environment. What Dipshit does is this...every morning he grabs a NEW cup from the kitchen and pours a WEE bit of OJ into it...enjoys it, then tosses the cup before he leaves for work. EVERY day. Every SINGLE day. Instead of using, you know, a Big Person's Actual Glass or Cup that he could wash and RE-use. He could even re-use the same plastic cup! Rinse and store away. But, no. And so his endless Big Ass OJ Cups will sit in landfills till the Second Coming...and also, MY fucking garbage bags are CONSTANTLY filled up sooner than they should be by the growing pile of cups inside. I'll have you know I use the SAME glass every damn day...for everything. Well, I have a glass AND a tea mug. I'm highly caffeinated, you know. DID YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT, MOTHERFUCKERS?!?! Yes, I like my TEA, thank you. And God HELP you if I don't have my morning tea...three cups, ideally. And I use my single glass or mug, rinse or wash, and re-use. All day long, every day, every week. I am friend to Mother Earth. Unlike Dipshit. He's a moron, did you know that? He'd never THINK about saving the earth, our garbage bags, AND his wallet in one fell swoop. Too advanced an idea for his mind. Idiot. Fucking idiot.

Seriously, I really can't express how much I can't stand living with him

I know I endlessly bitch. It's my only outlet short of...I just edited what I first wrote...it was far too violent...but let's say short of killing him. What incited this blog was his mere coming home, and yet, on cue, as I began writing this, he gave me yet another reason. It's endless, I swear to you. He came into the living room from the kitchen to engage me in conversation about...Amy Winehouse? It was hard enough saying "hey" to him as he walked in, naturally, during my dinner. WHENEVER I sit down to dinner, he'll arrive. And the second I picked up my fork, I heard a bus at the corner and said to myself, "I KNOW he's fucking on that bus." Three minutes later, my quiet dinner was ruined...again. But back to Ms. Winehouse, who deserves a blog all her own because I don't know WHY the fuck I even know this stupid, drug-addled cunt's fucking name. Seriously, I've been meaning to write about that, but I digress. Dipshit came in to tell me that he just heard on the radio that Winehouse was arrested again. Um...um...UM...and WHY are you fucking wasting my precious moments of life to tell me this? "Oh, yeah?" I absolutely struggled to feign the slightest interest in the FUCKING NONSENSE TALK this fucking dolt was forcing me into. He then rambled on that the arrest took place in London and how he may have to boycott buying The New York Post tomorrow if her picture's on the cover again...unless it's "an all-text edition." His remarks were peppered with his trademark "sarcastic" snorts and...oh, Christ Almighty, it was 60 seconds of my life ROBBED from me! Can you FUCKING believe he was talking to me about AMY WINEHOUSE'S ARREST?! THE POINTLESSNESS OF IT ALL!! I have NOTHING to say to you, you dumb man! Why, oh WHY, don't you GRASP yet that I have absolutely no fucking interest in conversing with you?! I HATE living with you!! HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE IT!!!!!! WHY DID I LET HIM MOVE IN?!?!?!?!!? LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stop payment on PAY IT FORWARD, s'il vous plait

How in the name of God did yet another failure, one-star movie from overpraised Kevin Spacey inspire one of THE most ubiquitous and irritating phrases of our time? Well, Oprah, of course. Run on! Whoot, whoot! Oy, fucking vey. Oprah's miserable track record of being wholly inspired by the most idiotic, cliched films on earth continued with PAY IT FORWARD. Her sycophantic audience always nods or even jumps in approval. The piss poor box office results usually leave me deliciously self-satisfied and vindicated, but the nightmare went beyond opening weekend with THIS film. Thanks largely to Oprah's ENDLESS co-opting of the title phrase, and idiotic news anchors and other talk show hosts piling on, it's now part of our national lexicon. And it irritates the BLOODY HELL out of me!! It's called KARMA...or "helping others" or "giving back" or "being generous" or "keeping the good tidings going." Not once in my life has the phrase "I think you should pay it forward somehow" been uttered at a family dinner table after someone's recent success. That's because IT'S FUCKING QUEER, ridiculously pretentious, and not anything a NORMAL person outside of a movie or Oprah panel would utter. Make it stop!!

Vaguely distressed by public pajama pants

There's just something annoying about a 30ish man shopping at the A&P at 7pm in pajama/comfy pants. Even at 4am, it would annoy me...but at least it would be 4am. But 7pm? Was it too taxing for him to pull on a pair of track pants OVER his comfy pants? It's just all so "I'm so fucking at ease with myself" for my taste. Too cocky, too I'M THE SHIT. And this coming from ME. But I'm kind of self-conscious about taking the TRASH to the curb at midnight in such attire, let alone THIS madness. It's also somewhat sexual, don't you think? I mean, it's what you wear to BED, complete with easy access penis slit. Are they wearing anything UNDER their comfy pants? This guy's cock could have made an unscheduled appearance in the fresh fruits section. I think there's definitely some titillation factor here; these people WANT to be looked at sexually as they prowl the streets in their PJs. Oh, yes, I'm sure of it...I've got that "LOOK AT ME!" gene, too...I know well the Game of Manipulation. So maybe i'm just pissed that I've had the decency to put on a real pair of pants while outside of my boudoir, despite WANTING to be as sleazy as they are. Maybe I'll change my ways...start wearing a jockstrap and flip-flops to take out the trash, and workboots and boxers to the market, only a long coat covering my bare chest and scantily-clad bottom. Oh, and a hat...that makes the outfit.

The Pretenders' version of HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

Far and away one of my holiday favorites. Calming, melancholy, and evocative of holiday seasons past for sure. But it's Chrissie Hynde's mellifluous voice that hits this chestnut out of the park. Beautiful.

THIS was under the "creative gigs" section of Craigslist

Hmm...sex...a child...and NO pay...on a job site. And I meet ALL the requirements! I don't know where to start my commentary. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an email to send...

Guys Please Read
Reply to: gigs-509699638@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-14, 9:25PM EST
Hey Guys, I'm a 22 year old lesbian who is looking for a man to help me conceive a child. I would prefer for the child to be conceived in the traditional way. I'm looking for a man with a good personality. I would prefer for him to be at least 5'9" in height. As far as medical history is concerned, I would like to know about any family medical, mental, and drug abuse problems. I would also like pictures of you and possibly pictures of family or childhood. If you would like to know more please contact me.

It's that special time again...Gary's Winter Message To Assholes Incapable of Clearing the Snow Off Their Car Roofs

You are FUCKING DIPSHIT, FOOLISH, LAZY ASSHOLES!! Do you HEAR me?! You're MORONS!!!!! It's amazing you figured out how to walk upright. What the fuck is WRONG with you that you think the car roof isn't part of your snow-clearing duties?!?!?! People are KILLED every fucking winter because of flying chunks of hardened snow and ice that fly off the roofs of cars like yours and slam into windshields of innocent people driving on the highway...do you REALIZE that, you unspeakably stupid fucking asswipes?!?! SO, SO DUMB, you are. How about I take an ice ball to YOUR fucking head, you dense dolts?! Then grab your aching, bruised head and slam it through a window? Sadly, I can't replicate the added bonus your victims feel of being in a speeding car spiraling out of control at the time of impact. SO...in closing, WISE THE FUCK UP and QUIT BEING A MORON and CLEAN THE SNOW OFF YOUR ROOFS. Don't get defensive and lippy...you know i'm right and you're wrong, so just turn a new page and start doing THE RIGHT THING from this point forward. EVERY day is a new shining chance to subtract some stupidity from your reputation! Oh, yeah, and you'll be potentially saving lives, too.

Is there anything more agitating than a fizzling Big Snowstorm?

Yes, actually...TWO fizzling Big Snowstorms, 2 days apart. Yet another instance when I can't say the word FUCK more often or in more ways to describe my aggravation. The forecasted 3 to 5 inches yesterday became...an icy half-inch or so. Now the Big SNOWY Nor'Easter of this weekend is looking like...um, a Windswept FUCKING Rainstorm. FUCKING BORING. Who the FUCK cares?! UGH. I think it's time we brought in chimps to be weatherpeople, because these motherfucking morons still can't predict things right. I WANT A CRIPPLING BLIZZARD!!!!!

More on NJ's heartwarming affection for murderers (you didn't think I was done, did you?)

Marilyn Flax, whose husband Irving was kidnapped and murdered in 1989 by death row inmate John Martini Sr., said she seethes at the thought Martini will remain alive "while my innocent, loving, adoring husband lies in a grave."
"I feel the system has spit on me, has slapped me and I am fuming," Flax said.

I couldn't agree more, Marilyn...I couldn't agree more. You're in my thoughts. The irony is, this makes ME want to kill someone. **PS, as I write this, more genius American jurors are aquitting terrorists...YAY!! Justice ALL around!! Ready your guns and knives, thugs! It's HUNTIN' season! Wanna dismember your victims? Maybe cook them? Hell, do whatever the FUCK you want! No death for YOU!!

My head's gonna explode from the Fox News Channel's excessive visuals

They currently have...EIGHT fucking things going on at once on one screen. NINE if you include the occasional word "ALERT" popping up and, naturally, flashing. And with many of the things rotating or flashing or moving in SOME way, it's probably close to 15 things happening. I can't fucking deal with this sensory-overloaded society anymore...and this coming from a Type A person who's very much full of energy and multitasked before it was a word. It's yet another Democratic Debate that we're watching and here's what we've got...1) the running news crawl on TWO-THIRDS of the bottom of the screen, 2) various stock indexes on the REMAINING bottom third, 3) the rotating FOX NEWS logo on the "second level" of the bottom left, 4) endlessly changing "Fox Facts" in the center of the "second bottom level," 5) a rotating graphic that either says "The Iowa Debates" or "You Decide 2008" completing the "second lower level" on the right side, 6) some kind of endlessly changing, live focus group "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" graph that reacts to what the candidates are saying taking up a little less than half of the center left side of the screen (did you follow that?), 7) an actually static (gasp!) "You Decide 2008/Voters Choice/Democrats" graphic on the UPPER right hand side of the screen, and FINALLY 8) yes, what we're actually supposed to be WATCHING...the debate...squeezed into the remaining upper leftish part of the screen. It's fucking NUTS. TOO much goddamn information!! **The icing on the cake of viewing this was saying to myself, "WHY does that focus group moderator look SO familiar?!" And i've seen him the past few days on, I guess, the FNC, and it mildly nagged at me. Today I realized...THIS guy, Frank Luntz, is from Luntz Research...and is the guy who moderated MY focus group on beer last month!! I can't believe it! THEN I realized that I'd seen ads on Craigslist looking for participants for today's "be on TV!" political focus group...for which, if you can believe it, I had zero interest. So that was all just odd and funny. But back to all the graphics...ENOUGH!!

Meteorologist tag-team bullshit

What's with the multiple weatherpeople during ONE 3-minute weather segment during big storms? Have you noticed this latest bit of idiocy? Do you care? Or am I left to be outraged FOR you? There's only 30 minutes for the news, and it's a busy news day...partly to do with The Big Storm. So it's crucial to minimize wasted time, right? Wrong. Instead, we have Weatherperson #1 waste valuable seconds saying things like, "now we have ANOTHER big storm coming on Sunday, and we're gonna go upstairs now to Weatherperson #2 in THE WEATHER CENTER to give us all the details." "Thanks, Weatherperson #1, here's what we have happening on Sunday...(ramble)...back to you, Weatherperson #1." "Thanks, Weatherperson #2." COMPLETELY FUCKING POINTLESS. And a COMPLETE waste of fucking time. ONE person is capable of doing the weather. And yet again, some "genius" producer who thinks they're starring in BROADCAST NEWS is getting paid big bucks to come up with COMPLETE SHIT like this. Have I used the word COMPLETE enough? FUCKING idiocy.

These motherfucking Pillsbury crescent dinner rolls vex me!

First, there's the packaging...it's like a CD...it NEVER opens easily. You're just supposed to "tear here" and go in circles and eventually the wrapping will give way to the cardboard and the cardboard will POP. Well, no. NEVER. I just find myself staring at a cardboard biscuit can now, instead of a Pillsbury label. So I have to exhaust myself twisting the cardboard, hoping to hit the right weak spot. If that fails, I have to slam the fucking thing over the counter. But do you think the stress ends there? Oh, no. NOW I have to figure out how to unroll the mass of dough into 8 separate rolls...it's not as easy as it seems. I know...a retard could do this. Well, maybe...but it's hard for me. And by the way, I'm cooking for ME and me only...I don't need eight rolls. I love bread, but not THAT much. So I wind up cooking 4 or 5, and storing the leftovers the best I can...but they're always fucked up in some kind of hard/yellowed way, and they turn out weird and flat. I still eat them, of course. And that's my Pillsbury anecdote...and another minute of your life down the drain...

Uncle Gary's "I Desperately Need to be Creative!" Virgin Red Velvet Cake

So I did it...I made my Red Velvet Cake for the first time. Months of sick fantasizing came to a boil late Friday night when I made the cake, and continued Saturday afternoon when I made and applied the cream cheese-based icing. I'm still not sure exactly where this urge originated, but I do love a challenge and also love food, so perhaps it's as simple as that. And it's something new and creative, and i'm STARVED for anything stimulating. Props must be given to Paula Deen, whose grandma's recipe I mainly stole from...though I altered it slightly, including tossing in a dash of Hawaiian coffee liquor. And so, well, I wasn't sure whether to refrigerate the cake or not...and this drastically influences how a cake tastes...so i'm learning. This cake isn't supposed to be HARD...which it kinda was when cold, but once I let it sit out a bit, it became more MOIST and FLUFFY like it SHOULD be. People who tasted it swear it was good, and I know it wasn't AWFUL, but i'm just a perfectionist. SO...well, I guess it was a pretty worthy first try at a "classic." I give myself credit, dammit. Are you shocked at that?

Fog! Ice! Snow! Heat! Olga!

What a WONDERFUL week of weather! That heartwarming word NOR'EASTER is being bandied about for later this weekend...we have a FIRST chance of snow even before that...ice is crippling the midwest...record warmth covers the southeast...fog currently blankets the view outside my window...and Tropical Storm OLGA has formed "out of season" in the Caribbean! I fucking LOVE it!! I'm in weather overload mode! It's a weather enthusiast's wet dream of a week! Oh, and look, TWC's Jim Cantore is in a hot pink shirt and matching tie...ICING on the cake! I PRAY the fog doesn't lift until AFTER my late night stroll...would add Jack the Ripper-ambiance. I love fog...gimme, gimme, gimme ZERO visibility!!

Dipshit's inability to close the bathroom door

Have you noticed a renewed uptick in my ranting toward him? It's amazing, but it's like a bottomless well of violations. Like the bathroom door. Whether he's in the shower or on the bowl...it's right within view through the crack in the door as you walk by...SO WHY ISN'T THE DOOR TOTALLY SHUT?!?! WHY, MOTHERFUCKER, WHY?!?!?!?!?!?! It's not like I WANT to sneak a peek (imagine my "shudder," SIMPSONS-stolen sound effect), but it's just awkward as I walk by the door, making sure not to look in even for a SPLIT second...kinda like a car wreck. If i'm home ALONE, I close the door...AND lock it. I ask you yet again for the rationale...knowing there IS none. Fucking dumbass.

Priscilla Presley and Joan Van Ark

What happened to their faces? They used to be so hot. I know they're in their 60s now...though it's hard to pin down their ages, what with all the grotesque surgery. Sad. Very sad. I'd like to see them close up, though. Priscilla's still kinda hot, but poor Joan's just freakish...and it pains me to say that. Meanwhile, Linda Gray (at 67!!!) actually looks better than she did 20 years ago...and without the (obvious) surgery. You and I both have TMZ to thank for this blog...

I remain baffled by the Spice Girls' reunion tour appeal

WHO exactly is buying tickets to this? Was there honestly a clamoring for their reunion? Is it selling well?! Color me absolutely mystified. Same goes for the Beckhams separately. I mean, who CARES?! Posh Spice is currently getting an hour solo on Larry King. I beg of ANYONE to justify this. I'm so fucking disillusioned with the entire entertainment industry...make that "entertainment"...

FIVE spoons, TWO forks, and TWO knives...

...for ONE Dipshit. Unwashed in the sink. Can you explain this to me?

Observed at the mall -- hoods...UP

I'm all for hoodies...love them...currently looking to acquire MULTIPLE new ones. But at the mall today, I took note of the fact that many of "the kids" had their hoods UP, bundling up their heads as if they were on an Arctic expedition. So fucking agitating. And don't tell me it's "the thing" or i'm "too old to get it." Guess what...some "things" are just FUCKING STUPID. Wannabe thugs or something. Yes, there were many things that robbed me of the holiday spirit at the mall...though I managed to ultimately enjoy myself. It's an old rant...but, please, WHY must people move so slowly? And equally offensive is that they have NO clue that there's people behind them (me) on the verge of strokes from the aggravation of trying to navigate around them. You'd think it was Disney World, the way they hobble along. I again used massive, seisure-like eyerolling to indicate my annoyance to others not culpable in the slow-moving crime; I've gotta vent SOMEhow. I will NEVER, EVER get slow people. Then...THEN...oh, my FUCKING GOD, THEN...there's the drivers on cell phones. Honestly, there is SUCH a razor-thin line between me keeping my cool and slamming their cars over an embankment. I lost count of the fucks who were either moving ungodly slowly in the FAST lane and/or weaving precariously in-between lanes...and when I'd finally get past them, I'd see a cell phone to their ear. SERIOUSLY...I am NOT kidding you...you are RISKING your life on SO many levels by doing this. And by that I mean not only may YOU cause an accident, but someone is VERY likely to flip out, maybe ME, and FUCKING HURT you. Badly. I am ENTIRELY justified in my rage over this. Things like this make me want to enter politics, as I would instantly seek to enact legislation to SUSPEND your fucking license for a month if caught driving on a cellphone...or, more to the point, driving erratically or too slowly. Oh, dare to dream, Gary!
YOU.
ARE.
A.
FUCKING.
DIPSHIT.
AND.
A.
HALF.
IF.
YOU.
ARE.
ON.
THE.
PHONE.
WHILE.
SPEEDING.
DOWN.
THE.
HIGHWAY.
You are NOT that important. You're just STUPID. And now that i've probably called most people I know fucking idiots...HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

Gary's 4am crucial baking tips

My first-EVER attempt at Red Velvet Cake came out of the oven at 3:15am...now cooling...i'll do the icing tomorrow. I'm VERY excited this is actually coming together! Lord knows, I'm always after NEW things I can brag about. So let me share the following essential information under the heading of BAKING SUBSTITUTIONS; it'll save YOU the tons of time I wasted...
1) BUTTERMILK...can't find it ANYwhere. But if your recipe calls for 1 cup of it, all you need to do is add a tablespoon of vinegar or lemon juice to a cup of milk, then let it stand at room temperature for 15, 20 minutes. Presto!
2) CAKE FLOUR...fuck this bullshit! I felt like screaming in ShopRite as I repeatedly looked over the rows of flour and frantically used my cell (!?!) to call my mother to ask her what the fuck the difference was. Twice in one day, I've spoken to my family on my cell...rare!...but I digress. So mom was the one who brought up "substitutions" despite not being too sure what the hell cake flour was, either. SHE never used it in her life, though. SO...ALL you need to do is just use the regular flour, but merely subtract 2 tablespoons from every CUP the recipe calls for. SO simple! I fucking LOVE it! Granted, I haven't tasted my cake yet, but it sure looked and smelled good...all THREE layers of it! Now isn't my blog just motherfucking essential? Hmm, only 4:15am...is there anything left to do with my Pearl Harbor Day?

Why is my brother (GASP!)...CALLING me?!

Another example of how much I detest the phone, and how BIZARRE it is to me when my phone actually RINGS...

*I must preface this by saying my brother and I are actually pretty close...despite how the following will sound...
-- Ring, ring...I'm instantly shaken...my phone ringing?!?
-- I see it's my brother.
-- "Hey, what's up?!" (I'm a bit tense, a big part of me feeling something must be WRONG for him to be actually calling; HE'S not a big "phone person," either)
-- "Hey, nothing, just haven't talked to you in a while, figured I'd call."
-- "Oh. OK. We don't usually talk on the phone, though."
-- "Well, yeah, but can't I call my brother just to see what's new?"
-- "Yeah, sure, but..."
-- AWKWARD SILENCE.
-- mutual chuckling
-- "Did you call me while driving?"
-- "Yeah."
-- "Well, you shouldn't be doing that."
-- "I know, I know..."
-- Actual chitchat ensued briefly about Christmas gifts, but the entire call was over in under 3 minutes, and I very gratefully hung up after the requisite "I love you/I love you, too" finale.

*Breaking news...title of Madonna's last Warner Bros. album, due in April...LICORICE

I LIKE it!! Vaguely "naughty"...the idea of SUCKING strands of Twizzlers comes to mind, perhaps while twirling coquettishly on a park swing. I know that's how I spice up dull Saturdays. It's a fun, youthful, DANCE-sounding title. Not a title I can imagine many other nearly-50-year-old singers naming an album. It also relieves music reviewers of the arduous task of coming up with review headlines...effortless, if lazy, gems like "Madonna's tasty LICORICE" or "Madonna's LICORICE: a chewy pop concoction" spring instantly to mind. Hmm, do you think the Master Media Manipulator thought of that, too? Holy CHRIST, though...HOW can Madonna be 8 months from FIFTY?! I mean, I know we've gone through this cultural shock with Cher already, and also know TONS of people are redefining 50 and even 60...but STILL...there is something incredibly jarring about Madonna turning 50. As much, if not MORE so, for what it means for US. I easily recall all the "Madonna at 30" magazine articles. How have 20 years sailed by?! HOW?! In the end, though, I dig it. Because she IS still hot and she DOES still make great, YOUTHFUL sounding music...without sounding desperate. Shuffling out to sing syrupy standards or Lite FM lullabies...um, no thanks. If she's gyrating in a leotard at 70, you'll have a point...but for the moment, how can I put this delicately...I'd still fuck her. Hmm, that'd make an intriguing blog...public figures past 50 i'd still fuck. Yes, yes, I MUST do that! LICORICE, LICORICE, LICORICE. Man, I dig that title.

You need snow BEFORE Christmas, don't you agree?

And that's what we've had this week...twice! Not much, mind you, but enough to get you in the holiday mood...if you haven't been there since 85-degree September days when Macy's first hung their wreaths and garland. Yes, on my 11pm stroll, it was calming beyond belief to be outside in 29-degree, gusty temps, while an icy glaze of fresh, powdery snow covered the landscape, and people's twinkling Christmas trees shone through candle-decorated windows. THAT is a proper December evening in the Northeast United States.

You go Christmas shopping on a Wednesday afternoon in our nation's heartland...and you're shot to death

Ain't life grand?

One FULL week sans the hellish library!!

It's like so MANY "big things" in life...you can't fully process the ENORMITY of how great it is...though I KINDA can. I never went back to "take it all in" one last time. Why bother? When I leave town, I'll take a Final Stroll through familiar haunts. Until then, I need to steer clear of interaction with agitating fellow townies. I'm also elated to report that after 7 days of a Problem Computer Mouse -- to the point where I was both breaking a sweat and on the verge of tears sometimes, slamming it down and jerking my right hand every which way, trying to get it to glide easily on its makeshift Verizon Yellow Pages "mousepad" -- I've finally got it working JUST about perfectly! I don't know what I did, and don't care, but EVERYTHING is finally as ideal as it can be with my newest computer situation. And Lord knows, every SINGLE item I can cross off my "Things Leading to my Stroke" list is a step in the right ZEN direction!

Hmm, I DO have what it takes...

Should I apply for THIS job that I found posted (and I always SO enjoy the spelling and grammatical errors -- yeah, i'm a pompous ass...) on Craigslist...under "talent"...

ATHLETIC LEAN RIPPED TICKLISH WANTED FOR FUN TEST (Midtown)
Reply to: gigs-498477394@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-04, 12:41PM EST
Hi, We are doing research for an upcoming tickling website. We are looking for a very lean, musclr ripped or skinny guys who are very ticklish and willing to be restrained and tickled. This could lead to many more gigs if you are interested in being featured on the site and you pass the test. Please send both body and face pic's if interrsted. Thanks for your interested

When I just VANISH...

...up and go, leave, flee, for parts unknown, and make zero contact with ANYONE, please direct them to this blog to explain the state of my mind, being surrounded, absolutely SURROUNDED by fucking loons, each and every day of my life. You can assure them I'm not dead (well, hopefully not), just GONE. And THEY'RE to blame. And I will go to either my grave OR Bellevue, strapped to a gurney, vehemently defending MY sanity to the very end...I don't fucking care HOW many people are lined up saying I'M the one with The Problem...

Just when I was thinking Dipshit hadn't agitated me in a bit...

I'd been musing on how he hasn't annoyed me in, well, 3 or 4 days...which is a CRAZY long time to go when it comes to him. Spoke too soon, of course. First time I saw him today came Offense #1. He decided to opine dismissively on the new first floor tenants not shoveling. First off, I don't wanna hear him opine on ANYthing. Secondly, the unmitigated gall of HIM talking about shoveling, he who RARELY does it. Last, but not least, he then "casually" mentioned how HE'D sweep off the steps when he went out. Great, whoopee, cheeri-fucking-O...JUST FUCKING DO IT THEN...there's NO need to announce your Puritan work ethic to me. I don't seek HIM out with bulletins when there's two FEET on the ground and i'm breaking my back to help the landlords out...and he's nowhere in sight. But there's a whopping inch on the ground for him to now proclaim control over. Fucking asswipe. So all three of those things angered me with a few sentences out of his mouth. And NOW...well, he's HERE...and that angers me because he SHOULDN'T be. He should be at his parents' for the night, as he has a dentist appointment tomorrow at 9am. It's at this point where I repeat that we had an INCH of snow. Motherfucker then sat around ALL damn day, going out to a friend's for a bit to "watch the game," and "keeping an eye on the weather." And now, nearing 10pm...he's either cancelling the appt. or going super early in the morning. This means he'll wake me up even EARLIER. It also means I now have to endure his giggling at something on TV and periodic "weekend wrapup" gossipy phonecalls with his Chatty Cathy asswipe pals. He SO easily could've been at his parents'. Let me mention the INCH of snow a third time. He is SUCH a MOTHERFUCKING LITTLE PUSSY. Like the roads are impassable. God Almighty, I can't fucking stand him. I had SUCH fantasies of a relaxing, zen snowy Sunday evening alone. Oh, wait, now he's on the phone with "Kim" discussing which footballs teams he favors. Weighty issues. Earlier today I heard him say "I put a few feelers out to my women." He seriously thinks he's in ENTOURAGE. I have to go for a walk or something...before I take a fucking hammer to his skull. I. FUCKING. HATE. HIM.

Damn, it's 25 degrees out at 2am

Wasn't I just on a beach? How did this happen?! Always funny how even the warmest autumns can seemingly morph overnight into winter. On cue with December's arrival are overhyped & breathless reports of the first area-wide snowfall tomorrow (a whopping inch or so in the city, but yeah, it'll be fun) and my trip with a friend today to pick out her Xmas tree from that familiar Hoboken lot. Also today...2 free tacos (for a total of 5) that the always sharp Taco Bell employees gave us...making for THREE screw-ups for one simple original order of "3 hard tacos and 2 soft, please." I expect a Mexican fiesta in the toilet about noon tomorrow. My friend and I wrapped up our whirlwind day by sitting pretentiously in a Starbucks front window, scanning The Post while critiquing everyone who walked by, imagining the glamorous plans they were running off to fulfill as we prepped to go home and stare at our respective walls. Example..."she's got bags, so she's staying overnight at her boyfriend's." Oh, it was riveting. And now I sit watching THREE'S COMPANY, eagerly waiting for the atmosphere to saturate so the virga currently overhead can finally reach the ground in the form of SNOW!!! Fucking VIRGA! Aww, it's a super old, Xmas-themed COMPANY ep. Dammit, I wish I lived with people I liked enough to give gifts like Jack, Janet, and Chrissy are doing. It's funny, given all my ranting about roommates, that i've had a lifelong yearning for a life like the COMPANY "kids." Seriously...I mean that. OK, that's all for today, kiddies...Uncle Gary's pooped from his wild Saturday. ONE month left to make 2007 a keeper!!