Madonna's 4 MINUTES single: terribly underwhelming

Pains me to say it. Though I'd love to offer this as (further) proof that i'm NOT a tunnel visioned, biased, knee-jerk sycophant. That I have the ability to judge things clearly. The song's not God awful; it's just...boring. A BORING Madonna song. ?!?! Madonna, Justin Timberlake, and Timbaland ALL get in a studio together...and THIS is what these 3 very talented people come up with?

It starts off good with big dramatic horns...but then just kinda goes nowhere. It's not super fast, it's repetitive, and the vocals are buried by this studio gadgetry. There's absolutely nothing "WOW!" about it. Having said that, I already bought the single off Itunes, I'll continue to seek it out and listen to it on the radio, and I hope it goes as high on the Billboard singles chart as possible. It IS doing very well -- so far -- on both radio and in sales. Be interesting to see how high it can chart based on curiosity and hype...and the soon-to-come video, which I anxiously hope will perhaps add some visionary pizazz to a lackluster single. I'll be happy with a top 10 finish, ecstatic with a top 5. I do NOT see it going to #1...but I hope i'm wrong. Hey, i'm the one who's NEVER really liked LIKE A PRAYER...yet it's an all-time fave of many. The expectation with Madonna is always so high...so this is disappointing. It's NOT a song anyone with taste will call amazing. It's a novelty. It won't have any legs. I just hope to God the other 11 songs on the album are better.

In the meantime, I'll cling to the always reliable growing hype, which includes the always reliable provocative photo shoots. Whatever the actual product, the fact remains that here's a female pop star months from 50 getting an amount of new single/pre-album buzz singers half her age would kill for. This is UNPRECEDENTED in pop music culture. Period. It's CRAZY encouraging in terms of pushing the boundaries of age on various different levels. For that alone, BRAVO, Madonna!

Take a garbage bag OUT? PUT ONE BACK IN!!

Have I possibly never blogged on this? Naturally, my rage stems from Dipshit...about whom, by the way, I could currently write a 6-page hateful rant. His inability to make a single right move is staggering. WHY isn't there a way to go back in time? I'd re-write every year since 2000. Well, not all of it. Key parts, though. Including the one where I let this assfuck into my life. I DETEST HIM. Back to the garbage bags, though. Again, it's the SIMPLEST things on earth that make me wanna take bats to people's skulls. Like, if you take a garbage bag out, HOW do you not replace it??????? What the FUCK is wrong with you?!?! I'M left to stand over a bag-less can with fucking trash in my hand. I'm getting dangerously close to resorting to drastic measures to make my endless points. Like, for example, if I had a plate of messy food to dump in the can, but there was no bag...just dumping it in anyway. Resulting in the inevitable "what the hell did you do that for?" query from Dipshit, upon which I'll start yelling and smashing things as my pent-up rage on 67 different issues finally boils over. So, in summary, you're an inadequate, dumb fucking moron if you don't know enough to replace a garbage bag when you take one out.

Gary's Savvy $$-Saving Tips of the Week

If you go and buy ANYthing at Old Navy or Gap, you'll likely get a 2nd piece of paper with your receipt. It's an "invitation" to take a 10-minute survey online about your shopping experience, after which you'll just need to write a special code word on that piece of paper and then bring it with you on your next shopping trip...and get 10% off ANYthing at Old Navy and 20% off any REGULAR-priced item at Gap. This week at Old Navy, it's 40% off their entire summer clothes selection...so with the online survey discount, you're getting NEW items half-fucking-price! Fuck, yeah! As if that's not all great enough (and don't tell me it fucking isn't), if you're REALLY good, you'll GET the code word, then RETURN the original item, then BUY IT AGAIN using the discount. And once you've surpassed the original non-discounted item hurdle, it becomes an unbroken endless parade of discounts for as long as they keep doing this. And Old Navy's being doing it since at least early January. And, yeah, they're cheap to BEGIN with! Who's your money-savin' Daddy? That's right...come sit on Papa's lap.

Carnie Wilson's career...

...has consisted of being fat, having surgery, losing weight, being fat again, and endlessly discussing it for about, oh, 16 years now. I wonder if she's AWARE that being fat is the only reason she has a "career." And I don't say this viciously. I LIKED Wilson Phillips. Oh, i'm sorry, you DO know that's the hit group she was a member of in the early 90s? I even met her once and have a photo with her. So I like her. I'm just SAYING...

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

Aside from THE AMAZING RACE, the only reality show I like. Being it pretty much IS genuine reality...unlike 99% of the other "reality" shows on the air. It used to be on The WB back in like '03, now it's on TV Land. Endless voyeuristic entertainment on so many levels.

Who'd wanna be The Face of VALTREX?

I speak of these actors on TV, talking about how they have genital herpes, but their partners don't...and they'd LIKE to keep it that way. How desperate are you exactly for an acting job that you'd even AUDITION to be The Face of Herpes?!?! I think the only thing related to sex that I'D audition for -- if I were an actor, and who says I still can't be? -- is Magnum condoms. Now THAT would be amusing...not to mention being a paying gig AND giving me a GOOD reputation. Gary...The Face of Magnum. Or would it be The Dick?

The body has finally been totally disposed of

I do mean my laptop. Rest in peace. I hacked the motherfucking shit out of the "Hard Drive Squarish Device" in a remote section of a Walmart parking lot, DOUBLE plastic bagged the thing, then drove around for like 10 minutes looking for a suitable dumpster. The one I found was PERFECT...all KINDS of garbage! No need for me to feel guilty about illegally dumping it. Of course, I looked TOTALLY out of place walking two blocks or so in this industrial area with a yellow ShopRite bag. Anyway, what SWEET relief to be rid of that thing! The epic streamlining/life revamping continues!

We just lived through a historic Easter!

I'm sure ALL of you were so fixated on why Easter was so early this year that you ran to your computers to do some research like me. But in case you didn't...this was the EARLIEST Easter of our lives!! Well, unless you're 95. The last time it fell so early, also on March 23, was in 1913...and it won't again till 2160. It can actually be a day earlier, but I guess that's SUPER rare. And it can be as late as April 25. The timing of the Paschal Full Moon is what actually determines when we universally honor Jesus rising from the dead.

This Earliest In Our Lives thing is pretty nifty...to me, at least. Before I looked it up online just now, I was so intrigued by it on Saturday night that I went through all my daily planners dating back to 1992 (don't you keep all yours?) to see if this year WAS the earliest in at least 17 years. NEVER again will it be this early for us. EVER. That's "fun," no? Savor everything freakish about this March Easter Week!

Has ANYone not done coke?

No, really, is there? Am I the ONLY person not only with zero interest in it, but also mortified of what potentially FATAL reaction I might have? A reminder...you're NOT "cool" if you're routinely doing lines of coke. A simple test question...are any of the images of the endlessly coke-addled celebs "attractive" or "cool"? The reality is that you're deemed, rightly so, a FUCKING LOSER if you're busted for drugs...so how come there's this idea that if you're NOT caught, then it's cool? Everything changes if you're arrested. Then there's my new favorite...the "I tried it 30 years ago a couple times" admission, nicely avoiding an arrest or rehab stories. Yes, I mean YOU, Governor Patterson. And that's the sad part, as I've said before...if very successful people do drugs and still achieve greatness, the bar is lowered. Very, VERY distressing. Seriously, it's exasperating. We need more ugly overdoses. More people fucking up on the job due to coke benders. More public humiliation. Yeah, I know, it's a shame most aren't as well adjusted as I am. One of my crosses to bear.

Join me in writing the NJ State Parole Board to keep the Seton Hall fire killers in prison

The 2 of them, inmates 570191 and 570192 (why mention their names?), are going before the parole board for the first time on March 31. That means time is of the essence to affect the board's decision if you're outraged, as I am, that these 2 callous monsters could be set free in May, having served only 16 months of an already paltry 5 years maximum.

In January 2000, they lit a banner on fire in a 3rd floor dorm lounge in the middle of the night as a "prank." They denied any involvement for years, but finally admitted it in 2006. Three men died and 58 were injured as a result of their drunken "prank." Countless lives have been ruined. Three families are missing sons and brothers every second of their lives. Can you imagine getting THAT phonecall in the middle of the night? Their daily agony is unimaginable, so I feel the least I can do is take a few minutes to write a letter that could potentially keep their sons' killers in prison for the duration of their sentence.

The dead students are Aaron Karol, Frank Caltabilota, Jr., and John Giunta. Only 18-years-old. Identified through dental records. They should be alive and 26 now. Having fun. Enjoying Easter dinner today with their families. Instead, their lives were snuffed out in a sudden, violent, unspeakably awful way. WHO in their right mind lights a fire...in a dorm...at 3am...and then doesn't even warn anyone? NO ONE. You are not IN your right mind. There is no excuse. And there is no excuse for these two killers (or should I soften it by calling them arsonists?) to see the light of day ANY sooner than after having served a full 5 years behind bars. It's argued they've been model prisoners -- serving as a chaplain's assistant, completing stock market courses. Aww, well ain't that swell? What about their victims laying in coffins? What's their reward?

The parents of the dead students started the letter-writing campaign at the start of the year. Some 300 letters have been received by the parole board since. Passionate pleas like this CAN help. I'll be putting my letter in the mailbox tomorrow. Here's how you can help, too:

New Jersey State Parole Board

171 Jersey Street

Trenton, NJ 08611

Re: Seton Hall Fire Hearings

INCHING toward that first ever Lacoste purchase

TONIGHT I made a crucial first step...finding out what the fuck their numbered French sizes correspond to in USA lingo. I was on the right path...5 is medium, which is MY size generally in shirts. There's also a sale on (!) at Macy's on select Lacoste products. Exciting shit. I DO think in the coming days, I will own my very own unbelievably high-priced, pretentious, "look at fuckin ME!" Lacoste shirt. I'll gulp and take a deep breath when I hand over the money (cash, thank you), knowing it's outrageous. But I won't care. Because I fucking deserve some luxury, dammit. I WILL wear it "ironically," though. Never doubt for a single second that I have it on (which will be frequently, of course) that i'm not AWARE of it being on, and what that little Croc stitching says to the world.

Hacking my laptop to pieces

With a hammer. In the meadows. In a deserted parking lot. It felt really good.

Backstory, you ask? Ugh, must I? I'm really tired after circling forEVER looking for the right spot, then looking for a dumpster, then roaming Paramus shopping for hours. And I didn't sleep well (again) to begin with. In short, though, today was one of those days where I woke up inexplicably fixated on accomplishing something very specific...today's winner being FINALLY ridding myself of my non-working laptop that's been taking up space since September. The laptop that was a cast-off from a friend anyway, and was 10 years old, and had this fucking PORT thing that it had to attach to in order to operate. And then I ripped the cord in September, and since it's so old, finding a replacement is more trouble than it's worth, akin to finding the Holy Grail. And, oh, yeah, I can afford to buy myself a BRAND NEW one now, so FUCK IT! FUCKING FUCK IT! GOODBYE, 2ND HAND, DECADE OLD PIECE OF SHIT!

But you don't just drop a computer on the curb these days. Not only are there increasingly irritating environmental laws (which includes merely finding out if there ARE any for my particular curb, and, well, I just don't have the patience to launch an investigative inquiry...I wanted this thing out of my room TONIGHT), but then there's the issue of privacy...and my paranoia about some tech geek coming upon my laptop and finding...well, i'm not quite sure. But i've always WANTED to smash something to pieces, anyway, so why not the computer? So like a serial killer, I placed the laptop into a small luggage bag, also brought along a hammer, and went off to the meadows seeking solitude. This, naturally, was harder than I'd expected, but I finally found a good place. Glancing all around me for eyewitnesses, I opened the passenger side door and lugged out the body, I mean, computer and placed it on the pavement. And began hammering away at the motherfucker! I really DID feel like I was doing something sinister, but I'll keep those dark thoughts private. Naturally, I photographed the event, too.

And then I...DIDN'T get rid of the thing. I actually DO care about "the environment" and kept trying to find a suitable dumpster. So now I'm driving around endlessly, peering into dumpsters. I really AM surprised I successfully avoided being questioned by security. I indeed have a knack for subterfuge. I finally found one decent enough for the PORT part of it...so in it went. Yay! Meanwhile, i'd gotten down to the "hard drive"...which was this squarish little thing. I had no idea if such an actual labeled & specific "part" existed...but there it was. SO...i'm gonna hammer it just a bit more tomorrow, see if I can permanently puncture this "hard drive," then find a toss-worthy burial bin. Yeah, I know...i'm nuts. I go to weird extremes. I'm paranoid. Whatever. I like to think i'm SMART and INTERESTING.

Can someone pay me to ride the subway all day?

I've said it before...I LOVE riding it. Watching everyone, sizing up NYC humanity. And, sure, giving off my OWN "look at fuckin ME!" cockiness. Then there's the ride itself when it's ABOVE ground...incredibly entertaining watching the neighborhoods go by. I also wouldn't mind being paid to, say, take pictures of each and every subway station in the system...in the station AND out...particularly outside when you're in the outer boroughs, as I was today. There's more character. I think I could be a train hobo. Oh, and today was also the first time I waltzed around with my Ipod, feeling ever more Like The Others. Though I must say, that loose right earplug is REALLY fucking vexing me. The strong winds didn't help. It's pretty OK when I'm just sittin stable, but walking can be an issue. So already i'm finding fault with the world's favorite fucking toy. There's something to be said for 20-year-old full-ear covering headphones, the type musicians and DJs still use. I also feel like the whole positioning of many of the buttons isn't practical. You STILL have work to do, Apple Geniuses!

Side note...East Williamsburg is just CRAZY fascinating to walk around, a haven of factories, trucking yards, complete desolation...and then a high-falutin health food store full of tight-jeaned, messy-haired hipsters. I could've done without the 40mph gusts, and it WAS borderline "I maybe shouldn't be here alone on foot" sometimes, but I safely made it home. Come warm weather, i'm there on my bike! Going even FURTHER down industrial wasteland streets until I touch the English Kills! Who wants to join me?! **What the fuck's the English Kills, you ask? Merely the name of a creek...where there's probably many, many bodies.

All our governors are SEXUAL FIENDS!!

It's beyond funny at this point. On SO many fucking levels. No time for a full analysis. So I'll just give the following GIVENS...

1) So?
2) Dina McGreevey is a lying, hypocritical, potentially unstable nutcase.
3) Dina McGreevey is NOT a whore, though, as...
4) ...I'm not remotely opposed to consensual group sex. Good for them.
5) Eliot Spitzer SHOULD'VE resigned, and also broke the law, whereas...
6) ...David Patterson shouldn't, and did not, respectively.
7) The Patterson adultery is NOT remotely newsworthy.
8) By the day, i'm more and more convinced that 90% of adults cheat. And i'm not judging. Life's short. You're an idiot if you marry at 25. It's not reasonable to assume you'll wanna be with the same person till you're 95. But Americans are endlessly puritanical, delusional, and hypocritical.
9) There's zero way I'll EVER win my #8 argument...as no one will obviously EVER publicly admit this. It's too UN-fairy tale and dark for most.
10) Nope, i'm not a pessimist or an asshole.

Oh, look, my monogrammed toenail clipper!

I forgot I had that. No, I did NOT buy it for myself OR ask for it. Amusing, though. And my monogrammed flask is also in that sock drawer shoebox. And a Leatherman! And, oh, look! It's my contact lenses...that expired in April of 1998. I actually got these in August of 1994. Yes. I know. The eye doctor put contacts in my eyes...I kept them in till they fell out a few days later. Being optimistic, he'd given me this 2nd pack...and I still have it...unopened. Because I never wore contacts again. I could NOT for the fucking life of me put my fingers in my eye to reapply the INITIAL contacts. I tried for days. Tears would immediately start cascading down my face. My face was soaked. How DO you people do it? Fuck that. Glasses will do. Oh, the wondrous magic of my sock drawer...

Anyone want my college yearbook pic in a wallet-size?

I have 14 of them left...part of the "oddities" in my sock drawer shoebox. No, really, you want one? This motherfucker is goin on my MySpace ASAP...along with one of the proofs from my FIRST Yearbook Pic Attempt. I went for a re-shoot, as I wasn't satisfied with...well, much of anything about the way I looked the first time I sat for the photographer.

I vividly recall how stressed I was about my LEGACY. HAHAHA! Even then, I was thinking ahead 30, 40 years...aware of the passage of time...THIS is how I'll be remembered. I was sweaty and aggravated, never content with my hair or outfit. And the HAIR! It alone could've won a fistfight. And do I smile with teeth, smile without teeth, or look stern and football player-esque? I eventually went with Option C to counter my general jovial rep. In retrospect, I'd have gone with a whole other look...smiling, but in one of those soap opera "I'm up to no good and you better watch your back!" scheming opening credit shot ways. Perhaps a cocked eyebrow.

It IS one of my dreams to be in some kinda opening credits sequence. I don't need to act...I just want various, contrary images of myself flashing melodramatically on screen. I wish we'd had a video yearbook. In my fantasies, I'd come on screen last, like "and Joan Collins as Alexis." I'd be standing on a grand staircase. Smoking a cigarette, a look of smug superiority plastered across my face. The big dramatic finish. They COULD have done that in the yearbook...put it all alphabetically except for me. You turn the last page, and I have a full page. Oh, golly, i'm amusing myself right now. Where was I going with this? Who the fuck knows. Oh, yeah, nowhere. My own amusement.

WHY have I kept a Gideons New Testament Book of Psalms & Proverbs in my sock drawer for 17 years?

It's funny, this thing called life...and the chain of circumstance. Due to my fucked up house key, I went looking for a spare one in the only place it would be...a shoebox FULL of oddities that I've had in my sock dresser drawer (2nd from the bottom) for, well, my entire life? By "oddities," I mean eyeglass cases, watches (that don't work), old work ID cards, an electric razor I bought just before college, needles & thread, rosary beads (!), assorted buttons, my First Communion book. Things like THAT. ODDITIES. Oh, yes, and to continue the slightly religious theme, that Gideon book of God stuff. It's orange, smaller than my hand, and 633 tiny pages of Mark, Luke, Hebrews, and Revelations, among others. There's my name, dutifully handwritten after "presented to" on the first page, and the date.

But WHY do I still have this? I recall it was given out in religion class...but by the Gideons? Did one of them come to speak? You know, those freshly-scrubbed young men who walk around ringing doorbells in white shirts and toting tiny Bibles. One came to my aid once a couple summers ago...fearing I was lost and alone...when I was really stalking my own house, waiting for my fucking landlords to get off the front porch so I didn't have to engage in stilted conversation. But why would they have been invited to a Catholic school? Well, I WAS in an ADVANCED religion class for exceptionally gifted young thinkers, open to being accepting of all beliefs...so maybe we were being introduced to a Special Type Of Christian. I don't recall a rabbi or Muslim cleric ever being hauled in, though.

Anyway, this religious relic will be tossed into the trash tonight. Thanks to my fucked up key. That Shoebox O'Shit has been on my "fucking weed through that!" agenda for a VERY long time. I'm happy to finally make tonight that night. Completely randomly. Being forced to CONFRONT The Shoebox of personal trinkets. My fucking RETAINERS are still in there!!!!!! I'll slip one of them on tonight for kicks...and pray it comes off. God, I love my teeth, thanks in part to those retainers. Have you noticed this dual contradictory need to hang onto things while also being obsessed with streamlining? Hmm, I just had a funny thought while I urinated...the Book of Psalms would look lovely on the back of the toilet...some light reading as you shit. Amusing, but i'll pass. Well, thank you, Gideons. Peace be with you.

Just keep casually eating dinner upon hearing out-of-nowhere grim news about a cherished relative

That's what I did tonight. What are you gonna do? Drop your fork and run sobbing into the yard? One second, you're having the annual St. Patrick's Day Irish feast...the next, mom announces she "has news." And it ain't that she's decided to run for town council. Christ, couldn't I finish my meal? Or...I dunno. Not that St. Patrick's Day is Christmas, but couldn't it have waited a day or two...or come sooner? She found out Thursday night. Sigh, it's just that I was having SUCH a good day. Selfish of me? Sure. But being a Grown-Up sucks.

This is one of those times where I don't know what to write because I'm not about to get detailed on a fucking blog about a relative's medical condition when I'M not even supposed to know yet. But it's MAJOR, life-altering news...and, um, yeah, the sudden focus of my day...and of my days to come. Twelve hours ago, everything was fine, everyONE was fine...as far as I knew. It was a beautiful, 45 degree St. Patrick's Day. My 16-year-old Irish Party Animal shirt on. I even had the windows down in the car. The radio blaring. Traffic was moving well. I'm rolling in cash. Paying things off. Thinking positive. Twelve hours later, I'm googling survival rates and wondering What It All Means. Erin Go Bragh.

Gary's first ever IPOD PLAYLIST!

Drop everything, discuss amongst yourselves, hire me as a DJ, take my cue to some really cool, mood-transforming, thought provoking music. Man, I've come so far since my first music purchase EVER...a CASSETTE of Prince's PURPLE RAIN...followed quickly by my first 45s (yes, RECORDS, kids), Cyndi Lauper's SHE BOP and Rod Stewart's SOME GUYS HAVE ALL THE LUCK. Yes, that's right. Problem? On with my list...

1) RADIO NOWHERE, Bruce Springsteen
2) BOSTON, Augustana
3) 4 MINUTES, Madonna with Justin Timberlake & Timbaland (*illegal French radio download, no longer available...THIS was actually the first song on my Ipod...though I don't know how I got it there...yes, I'm still learning)
4) READ MY MIND, The Killers
5) ALL THESE THINGS THAT I HAVE DONE, The Killers
6) BLEEDING LOVE, Leona Lewis
7) HALLELUJAH, Jeff Buckley
8) WEST END GIRLS, Pet Shop Boys
9) BETTE DAVIS EYES, Kim Carnes
10) STOP AND STARE, OneRepublic
11) FOOL FOR LOVE, Belinda Carlisle
12) PUMP UP THE VOLUME, M/A/R/R/S
13) NOTHING AT ALL, Heart
14) EROTICA, Madonna
15) SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT, Nirvana
16) INSOMNIA, Faithless
17) FIRST TIME, Lifehouse
18) CALIFORNIA DREAMIN, The Mamas & The Papas
19) LEARNING TO FLY, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
20) SINCE U BEEN GONE, Kelly Clarkson
21) CLOSER, Nine Inch Nails
22) MERCY, Duffy
23) CHECK IT OUT, John Mellencamp
24) MANIC MONDAY, The Bangles
25) TIME TO PRETEND, MGMT
26) SECRET CROWDS, Angels & Airwaves
27) WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN?, blink-182

*Funny, only now do I realize the irony of RADIO NOWHERE being the first song I ever downloaded...it being about disconnectedness in the current distracted world we live in. And the last song, too...kinda amusing...no need to explain. And that Duffy song...I heard it for the first time ever last night on the radio in the car, was so taken by it that I couldn't leave the car to enter Walmart until the song was over. And then today, I see that it's the Free Download of the Week on Itunes! YAY! If you don't dig that tune, something's wrong with you...maybe more so than if you like Sara Bareilles. READ MY MIND just makes me feel so optimistic and wistful at once. Many of these songs do that. I AM melancholy, you know. Angels & Airwaves are fucking great...Tom DeLonge from blink-182's new group. And that MGMT song...which I also JUST heard for the first time on Saturday...saw the trippy video...that song is FUCKING AMAZING. Just makes me HAPPY...and I need to be happy. It just makes me wanna get drunk and dance in circles in a field. I'm itching to comment more (like, say, on my incredibly eclectic taste...and this ain't NOTHING), but I'd be here all night. I will NEVER erase these songs...they'll forever be The Basis of My Ipod...not to mention a reflection of me -- in general, but also The Me of March 17, 2008.

Gee, I wish I could go for a walk

I was all set to take a ponderous, late-night, refreshing stroll to cap off this St. Patrick's Day, likely involving a stop at Dunkin Donuts for a tasty hot beverage. But then I remembered my key to the front door...my TWO keys. You see, last night, I finally decided to move the car out of the bus stop and into a legit space at 2:30am. Upon returning to my house, I could feel the key STARTING TO BREAK in the door. I gathered my wits, and with a Spitzer-like finesse, I ever so delicately maneuvered that motherfucking key around the tight hole it was pulverizing, and successfully kept the key intact AND opened the door. I could FEEL the key starting to bend and twist. You know, the same fucking thing happened to the key to my parents' house last year, except in that case, the key broke in two. Luckily, they were home and let me in...and we successfully extracted the half-a-key from the door. But 3am last night would NOT have been good if something happened.

Flash forward to today. I'm elated when the man at Lowe's states he CAN successfully copy the key. There's a TINY tear in it and it's also ever-so-slightly bent, so I wasn't sure he could do it...and neither was he. But he did! But me being me, I didn't get 100% excited until I actually returned home later and tried the key. Yup, that's right...numerous attempts did NOT open the door. SO...I gingerly put the old one in again, and it mercifully worked. I noticed the new key is a HAIR longer than the original, so I'm gonna try sanding it down a bit tonight (yes, I have sandpaper handy...doesn't everyone?) and try it again TOMORROW...in the light of day. When I can ring a bell...call someone...go somewhere...if neither key gets me back in the house. I'm gonna be pissed if I wasted $1.47 on a pointless key! So, yeah, I can't leave the house until daylight. FUCK! I need to start scaling the fire escapes and leaving the window open a crack...

Where's my fucking JUNIPER BREEZE, Bath & Body Works?!

They seem to have discontinued this kind of soap and body wash. No, NO, NOOOOOO!! Damn you all to HELL! Juniper's among my favorite smells in the world. You can often spot me sniffing branches of them along the Jersey shore, sometimes even ripping the branches off in a frenzied, environmentally-unfriendly need to bring back some of The Shore to my living room. But I guess some focus group has determined that the dipshits of America feel Juniper Breeze is the one that should be banished at Bath & Body Works. Assholes.

Thread Count 101

Until tonight, I had absolutely no idea what the fuck numbers were involved in thread counts. You know, for bedroom linens. I need new bedwear, so off to...Walmart I went. I like Walmart...for certain things. Bottom line, for whatever reason, it's cheap. Like $1.86 for a 3 pound tub of Country Crock butter! But I digress. I really didn't WANT sheets and pillowcases from there...but I browsed just to see.

Two things caught my eye. #1, a lot of their bedwear shit is made in Pakistan. Fuck that. Osama's likely being hidden in Pakistan. Thousands of our men and women are dead because of him. I'M not buying a pillowcase made in fucking Pakistan. So that pissed me off. I can't even buy fucking sheets in Walmart in NJ without thinking of terrorism and war. Getting off topic again. So #2 was the thread count. And once I finished at Walmart, it was off to Kmart, where I admittedly kinda had Martha's collection in mind to possibly buy from, and I immersed myself in the extensive marketing bullshit write-ups on all of her packagings. And I learned that HER collection starts at 200 and goes up to 500. But I saw a 600 one at Walmart. And just before, I began investigating thread counts online.

They start at a paltry 80. And go up to, well, first I read 700...then 1,000...so who the fuck knows. But you must ALSO consider the THICKNESS and WEAVES of the threads to determine comfort. Oh, and it's recommended you TOUCH AND FEEL the bedwear before you buy it...which makes me feel better about opening various packages and caressing the contents. A final note...my research has determined that, in general, there's really NO obvious increase in softness once you go past the 300-400 level. And here I was tempted to buy Martha's 500-thread shit. God, I love educating myself! I can only hope YOU'VE learned something fresh and exciting here, too!I will now settle for 400-count...which is already double the usual 200-count I've made perfect good use of until now. Again, let me stress, I'VE NEVER CONSIDERED THIS SHIT BEFORE TONIGHT IN MY LIFE! Now my NEXT hurdle will be finding discount Lacoste clothes...

Every now and then, there's an inexplicably REALLY big song by a REALLY white solo woman

Super white. Can't be whiter. I can see the packs of sensibly dressed stroller moms in the parks and playgrounds of White America perking up from their zombie tedium when mutually discovering "OH MY GOD, IIIIII love that song, TOO!" If you wanna prove yourself UNhip, download this to your Ipod or run out and get this album. It HAD to have "broken" in Omaha or something. Some dumb DJ in the Midwest must've been the one to open the floodgates. A song that, to my ears, has absolutely no hummable hook and you can't remotely sing along to. A song you'd be wise not to admit to me that you like, as my assessment of you as a human will instantaneously plummet. And the WINNER of this year's MOST INEXPLICABLE TOP 5 SMASH is...

LOVE SONG by Sara Bareilles

I think i'm done with boxer shorts

If you only knew the obscene things that were going on underneath my corduroys while I walked and drove around for 7 hours shopping today. These fucking things just do NOT wear well on me. I need something that, um, STAYS where it's supposed to. Does my lean frame have something to do with the moving and the shifting? It's a fucking pain in the ass. I'm walking through the fucking mall with my cords falling DOWN (as they always do) and my boxers hiking UP. On the outside I look like Kevin Federline, while on the inside I'm Ed Grimley. And, yes, I was wearing a belt...to no avail.

Add to this aggravation the fact that the bottom of my cords keep uncuffing...so i'm almost tripping, too. WHY are they so long on me?!!? It's the right size! Oh, wait, maybe 'cause they're loose and keep falling? Oh, but wait again...they're also the right size in the WAIST -- an enviable 32", I'll have you know. Is this that rare case where I actually need a 31" pant?! So I was just fucking irritated. As time wore on, I cared less and less about just stopping to the side and yanking my cords up while trying to force down the Inner Layer as discreetly as possible. Oh, yeah, I also woke up with a stiff neck, so I had to whirl my whole body around to look in any given direction. Yeah, driving was fun like that. Given my overall appearance, I probably looked like I was just released from the group home. I mean, I felt like Geri Jewell with my fucking neck.

I DID have a brief fun time, though, roaming the fascinating town of Secaucus. No, seriously...it's VERY interesting if you actually get off the highway and away from the stores. Interesting as in ODD. Mansions, shacks, all in this little town...in the middle of the meadows. Including a BIG ASS LOG CABIN being built...something you'd see in Montana. And new nature trails. And WOODS. Fucking woods. It is all SO strange. I've explored there before, but never to this extent. Having said that, today could be the LAST time i'm ever in Secaucus...at least to shop. It was maddening beyond human belief. The layout of roads and stores is so completely convoluted. And the TRAFFIC...a nightmare. Then, of course, you have the PEOPLE. The slow-witted General Population. Both shopper AND salesperson. Like waiting in line 15 minutes behind ONE bitch to pay for my ONE photo album. Me looking down and rocking back and forth ever more vigorously. Endless issues, including the dreaded "I need a VOID!" I didn't even look at her when she muttered "sorry." Kept staring blankly and rocking. Can we PLEASE institute CASH ONLY lines across this great nation?!?!?!!!? Oh, and we can't forget the bad DRIVERS. Christ, I couldn't get out of that fucking zoo fast enough.

But back to my underwear. Yeah, I'll have to consider this hard-hitting issue. I need to keep at least a couple on hand. Overall, though, it's time to stock up on lots of boxer BRIEFS. They HAVE always been my favorite. Wow, what will I reveal next?! Jock itch?!

Anyone else remember GINO'S?

I know i'm not nuts...i've already clarified that by googling it. It was a fast food place that went out of business in like 1982. They sold KFC there...and there were no separate KFC restaurants...which I just learned after The Google. I have such a vivid memory of going there when I was a super little kid, and seeing a KFC commercial got me thinking about it again. I KNEW there was some KFC connection. Damn, i'm good. And yet again, God BLESS the internet!

The Spitzer WHORES

Read this closely...they are WHORES. YES, i'm being judgmental. I haven't said too much about Spitzer because I haven't had time and there's just SO much to cover, but one thing that has grated on my last nerve is this feeling i'm getting of SYMPATHY for the WHORES. OK, you know what, this is already getting complicated. I'm not a monster; I have great sadness for anyone whose life is so devoid of self-respect that they think prostitution is "the only way out." And a lot of them, female AND male, came from miserable home lives...so obviously that's horrible, too. But, but, BUT...in the end, there really is NO justifying their "career decision." Work at Walmart, bitch. The idea that many of them have that it IS a CAREER is soooooooooooooooo fucking absurd. "Yeah, I didn't get the job at Merrill Lynch, so I'm gonna go with my 2nd choice...whore."

But even worse is that i've heard MANY people, famous and not, ALSO implying the same thing...suggesting that prostitution is much ado about nothing and we shouldn't condemn these girls. Right. Right, Whoopi Goldberg. Holy Christ, people are nuts. The reality of the situation is that this ISN'T just about sex. It's a dangerous, ugly world of abusive men, drugs, mafia, big money...and dumb women -- and men -- with no self-esteem. If this WERE just about sex...go nuts, I don't give a shit. If the WHORES didn't have johns or madams and worked for themselves. Independent contractors, if you will. But it IS about all those other things...an entire culture of crime and corruption. And I KNOW this goes on in Europe and no one bats an eye. You know what, it doesn't make them right. They're fucking idiots. And this coming from the person who routinely rails against the puritanical, repressed nature of Americans. But -- and I know it's hard for most to grasp the gray areas of life -- there's a difference between prostitution and, well, pretty much everything else sexually.

Maybe the thing in general that i'm annoyed at is the GLORIFICATION of all of this. AS I write this, Larry King is talking to 3 whores and a pimp. !?!?!?!?!? And there's a "live shot" of the outside of the Main Spitzer Whore's apartment. Oh, and one of the whores mentioned transporting "toys" on the train between NYC and DC. And now the latest thing i'm hearing a lot of -- cue massive eyeroll -- is "how to talk to your children about this." Two things...1) you DON'T and 2) maybe the kids wouldn't MAYBE be asking questions if Larry King wasn't discussing sex toys with whores at 9pm. I know when I was 8, I never asked questions about sex...what's with these fucking kids? It's probably the idiot parents discussing it when the kids never even brought it up. This TALKING TO THE CHILDREN about the day's headlines MADNESS. Oh, my fucking God.

Two final points real quick because I need to go swim laps then sit in the hot tub...where, who knows, maybe i'll be propositioned. #1, there is ZERO comparison here to Bill and Monica. Monica was not a WHORE. Get it? Have I made myself clear yet regarding WHORE vs. MERE CONSENSUAL ADULT NON-PAYMENT SEX?? The Bill-Monica thing remains the biggest waste of time in recent American political history. Besides the current Bush presidency. #2, the "thing" with Spitzer is the HYPOCRISY of it all. WHO he was and used to be...and what he got caught doing. There is NO way he could govern after this. NONE. He had to go. Period. OK, i'm done for now. I may re-read this later and be disgusted by the non-crystalization of my thoughts. In short -- PAID WHORES, bad...SEX, good...everyone's still repressed and hypocritical.

John Mayer's perfect WONDERLAND pop moment

The end of YOUR BODY IS A WONDERLAND, when he goes "ba, ba, dup, ba, da, da, da" over and over and over...JUST perfection. Six years later, I'm still filled with "life is good" joy upon hearing those 30 seconds or so of lyrics and music. Like I was today as I drove around paying off bills after cashing the biggest paycheck of my life. Sure, the BIGGEST PAYCHECK EVER had something to do with my elevated mood, but damn, hearing that song was great. Just fucking great.

Yes, I AM a man of a Certain Age now...

Yup, today was my birthday! YAY!! Gary's Special Day! But aren't they all? I can't be 100%, but I'm pretty sure i've been VERY crafty about keeping my age a secret on here. Me and mystery and all. I'm like a busty, sexually viable actress afraid of losing parts to the ingenue. Yeah, something like that. Well, it's been a good day. A good TWO days. My good friend B.K.T. paid a shocking visit. Well, he called first...Monday night, saying he'd be driving through. So he wound up staying over last night and hanging around till 3ish today. Last night we waltzed around the Isle of Manhattan for a good 8 hours, walking more than I have in AGES. Rather invigorating. And as the clock struck midnight, and yours truly successfully made it to another year on this earth, I toasted B.K.T. with my 3rd Smithwick's at the Irish bar on 7th Avenue near 28th, and felt rather positive about things. Which is always a plus. Back in NJ, I found 27 cents on the ground near our car and considered it good luck. Once home, we'd sip Baileys and Amy's Organic "Tom Kha Phak Thai Coconut" Soup while sifting through college photos. MMMM. Deliciously soothing. By 3:15am, I'd fallen asleep with the light on, Eliot Spitzer's sordid whore exploits in the NY Post draped across my chest. So I slept through my actual 3:41am Birth Moment.

Today, after B.K.T. left, it was back to the standard Ma, Pa, and Bro routine. A hearty meal and 2 Coronas. I'd asked for "something Chinese." For dinner, that is. Mom dutifully fulfilled her firstborn's wishes with a rice, chicken, broccoli, and pepper stir-fried concoction, dripping with an Asian-fused sauce. If this had audio, I'd do my Homer Simpson, tongue-out, salivating sound. I can do it on command if you have the pleasure of knowing me. Then the gifts. I got my first Ipod...a Shuffle...I'd specifically asked for it. One gigabite and classic silver, thanks. That's 240 songs...why the FUCK do you need more than that? Sure, i'm 6 years late to the game, but i'll catch up fine. And you can't go wrong with a ShopRite gift card and new pillows!! Then it was my usual Carvel ice cream cake with the green lettering and little shamrocks, too...representin' Ireland, y'all. Christ, I could have this cake nightly...SO good! Then it was time to download songs for the first time...and I'm already having problems "finding" 19 of the 21 I downloaded. Don't ask. Because I wouldn't know how to answer you. I need to read the instructions VERY closely. And for you eye-rolling tech smartasses...go suck yourselves off in a dimly-lit corner. On that note, whew...it's 4am and I should start wrapping things up. Get this year GOING!! Thanks to those who wished me well today...you're the best. Stay with me for another wild year of my life! I'm quite optimistic about things. Right now, though, I'm excited to roll my head around on my new pillow...

Is it odd that i'm emotionally attached to a jumprope?

I've had it since I was 17. A lot of memories of trying to get in shape by jumping relentlessly in my parents' yard...at night, of course...never when the neighbors could gawk. Even then I detested surveillance. I'm not quite sure why I thought jumping rope would BULK UP my 145-pound self. Well, perhaps it helped develop my oft-admired calves. For whatever reason, I jumped rope a lot. And this past Christmas, I finally got a new one. A sleek, black "speedrope." Much more hip than the fraying brown, shoelace-esque thing I had...that's actually been tied together for maybe, oh, 10 years? The rain weared it down so much that it broke in two, so I just tied it together and it's stayed fine ever since. I really AM all set for a stint in Appalachia.

So I finally am tidying up my life and actually OPENED the new jumprope...so let's throw out the old one, right? Well, I got to the garbage can...and couldn't throw it in. Is that absurd? That perfectly demonstrates the level of sentimentality I attach to EVERYthing. HOW could I so cavalierly toss this remnant of my past into the trash?! I will. I WILL toss it...just need a bit more time with it. HAHAHA, I sound like a loon. Yes, I'll gently fondle my jumprope...drape it around my neck, hold it close to me, while rocking back and forth on the floor in a corner, summoning up ALL those teenage and early 20s places I pounded that rope. No, really, that IS an option that would provide sufficient closure...

Madonna's heartfelt Hall of Fame speech

I don't have much more to add beyond the fact that it was a VERY genuine, generally eloquent speech. Don't know if she should've included a reference to Stepin Fetchit, but maybe i'm being overly sensitive. And for the first time that I can EVER recall in 25 years, she admitted to drug use. A hit of ecstacy, mind you, not shooting up heroin. Eh, what can I do? I didn't REALLY think she'd NEVER done a drug, but I guess I liked to pretend. My vast admiration remains. It was a genuine, relatively humble, moving Madonna...not seen that often. And I enjoyed Iggy Pop's renditions of BURNING UP and RAY OF LIGHT. Here's to the NEXT 25 years! Oh, GOD, I'll be...no, no, I can't go there! That IS another point, though...ONCE again, a Pivotal Madonna Moment coincides with a Pivotal Gary Moment. I AIN'T makin this shit up, folks! It's WEIRD. And I DO mean my birthday tomorrow...

A toast to John Mellencamp

Don't wanna leave HIM out of my praise-heaping. He was also inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame last night and gave a typically humorous, rambunctious speech, followed by a couple of great performances. He's another old favorite of mine, someone I listened to a lot growing up, someone more than worthy of ANY kind of lifetime achievement award...though he's only 56. As I said, this whole Hall of Fame thing is a lot of nonsense...but since it IS in existence, it's nice to be RECOGNIZED.

NIGHTLINE's first guest tonight: Heidi Fleiss!

As the world continues to go to hell in a handbasket. Thanks to Eliot Spitzer, she can add yet more punditry to her stellar resume. She said the word LAID about 6 times in 2 minutes, including "I don't have a problem with him getting LAID...he gets props from me!" and "I don't wanna see the governor not getting LAID." What could I add to that?

Let the (latest) Madonna onslaught begin!

Honest to God, the mass media hype surrounding whatever latest product she's unleashing NEVER grows old to me. Cross-promotional hype, too, usually. Think of her delirious white-hot zenith in 1990-1991. In a year's time, you had the landmark monster VOGUE single...from the album I'M BREATHLESS...which was from the movie DICK TRACY...all of which came about as she began her BLONDE AMBITION tour...which was chronicled in the documentary TRUTH OR DARE. Whew, let me catch my breath. OK, back. But between the tour's end and the documentary's release, she ALSO put out a little greatest hits album called THE IMMACULATE COLLECTION, from which came TWO singles, one of which, JUSTIFY MY LOVE, became her 2nd #1 hit in less than a year, in addition to spawning an accompanying video that was banned by MTV and resulted in her appearing on NIGHTLINE (!?) to defend its raciness. Christ, i'm exhausted recounting that. HA, and that wasn't even really the point of this blog.

I wanted to direct you (if interested, of course) to this article from the NY Daily News...http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/music/2008/03/09/2008-03-09_madonnas_music_catalogue_shows_why_shes_.html. It talks all about the VALIDITY of Madonna's induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame tonight. I agree with most of what is said, particularly (as noted HERE before) how great and dark and edgy the EROTICA album is. I know, you're not supposed to end a sentence with IS...whatever. I disagree with the reviewer's contention that AMERICAN LIFE is one big mess; in fact, I just listened to it on Friday for the first time in ages...not bad at all...just not "commercial." Oh, and he lists INTO THE GROOVE as being on the LIKE A VIRGIN album. Um, no...it's from DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN...who doesn't know that? Overall, though, he makes tremendous positive -- and ACCURATE -- points.

Are you still with me? Because now i'm REALLY gonna ramble. Maybe i've said this before here, I dunno, but something occurred to me while reading the EROTICA part of this guy's article. I've long identified with Madonna...and explaining that to people...well, there IS no real explaining that to people. I feel like they think I'm nuts and/or delusional the few times I've broached the topic. But here's the thing...and this, I admit, will definitely induce "oh, get OVER yourself" eye-rolling in more than a few. But I can't help how smart and self-aware I am, can I? The thing is that, well, Madonna is smart, too. And Catholic. And has a lot of traditional values And BEING smart, she questions a lot. And is thoroughly interested in LIFE. And her life has introduced her to TONS of environments and types of people that she didn't grow up around. And she's intrigued by things...but doesn't necessarily wanna partake of what's offered. She is, at heart, despite her mammoth fame and mammoth ego, an OBSERVER. She didn't REALLY immerse herself in the lifestyles espoused by her SEX book or JUSTIFY MY LOVE video. But she was interested enough to DABBLE in them just a bit in order to push her Midwestern Catholic boundaries and see how a whole other set of people REGULARLY live. There is NOTHING more taboo in the United States than sex. We ARE a Puritan country. And Madonna has, on endless occasions, shoved endless variations of SEX down this country's throat...yes, again, pun intended. Hmm, I'm deviating a tad yet again.

My main point was that I'm like Madonna in my neverending quest for inspiration and new experiences, along with my constant pushing against the foundations I grew up with. We're both smart and have our heads on straight. And we're both OBSERVERS. Then there's this...Madonna, even at her height, was NEVER America's Sweetheart in either beauty OR talent. And in high school, she was a bit of a freak. Certainly not Homecoming Queen. And I, dammit, was never the quarterback Prom King. And it pissed me off. Lord knows I certainly had more personality than the entire football team put together. Can you tell I don't keep in touch? No matter my station in life, I will never be the Tom Hanks of it. And I don't want to be. It's dull. I think i'll always be fighting and clawing and aspiring. It's what I had to do all through childhood and into college. I've never dropped that chip on my shoulder for the "cool kids"...even though I've officially been one for years now. And, yup, I've come to relish my hard-earned social status. Why get up in the morning if there's nothing to fight for? No one to prove wrong? No trip to plan or goal to meet? No body to keep looking better than it did in high school while "the jocks" are bloated messes now? I am SURE Madonna feels the same way. And that's the end of a VERY long trip into my head trying to explain "the connection" I feel to this woman. I wonder if there's ANY chance ANYone will SOMEwhat grasp where I'm coming from. God, i'm tired...I can't wait to read THIS back in the light of day. Paging Dr. Crane. Back to the Hall of Fame lol...

Let me say that the whole "Hall of Fame" concept is absolutely full of bullshit and politics and I TOTALLY know that...but STILL. There's absolutely an added sense of credibility that comes from being inducted. Though I'm still grappling with the fact that Madonna's been AROUND 25 years to be ELIGIBLE. I clearly recall thinking Way Back When, "wow, what will Madonna's career be like in 2008?!" Well, i'm glad you asked. She ALSO has a new album, HARD CANDY, out April 29th. Earlier rumors of the title being LICORICE proved false. The first single and video, FOUR MINUTES, will be out imminently. And yours truly will have endless analysis. Of the album, I mean, not MYSELF. Well, OK, that, too.

The TO CATCH A PREDATOR guy

I've (pardon the pun) touched on this before, but there is something VERY vaguely "off" to me about this guy Chris Hansen. This guy EVERYONE thinks is doing a great thing SAVING OUR CHILDREN! This guy who is hailed as a hero by Decent Minded Citizens of Our Great Nation! So his life mission is to constantly be around smut and porn...involving the underaged? Seems a bit TOO intrigued by it all, if you ask me. A bit TOO "close to the action," if you will. What's his workday like? Walks in the office, turns on the internet, goes to AOL chatrooms and starts using the words "dick," "pussy," and "blowjob" a lot? I dunno, just sayin...if HE'S caught in some sex scandal, you heard it here first...

Can someone tell me why it's a NEGATIVE that McCain has a temper?

More bullshit. I'm GLAD he has a temper! I'd do anything to see him go apeshit and slug a reporter. Who the FUCK cares?! More dreamy delusion by Americans and pundits. Do you think meek, unaggressive types ascend to the presidency? I'm endlessly fascinated by the "need for honesty" vs. the way people DO react WHEN politicians show their true colors. Would any candidate stand a chance in HELL if they came out from the start saying they didn't believe in God? Or if they cursed like sailors in public? Or said they didn't give a flying fuck if gays got married? Or admitted to adultery and marital issues and said it was nobody's business? Or were SINGLE? It's all so fucking fake. So I thank John McCain for being one pissed off motherfucker...and often showing it...and rarely apologizing.

Dipshit's endlessly irritating interaction with the toilet

It's been a while since I've ripped into him, huh? This complaint isn't a big one in the grand scheme of things...more mild annoyance. OK, more than mild. It's amazing how I KEEP coming up with new ways he pisses me off. Simply put, he keeps leaving the toilet seat DOWN. He'll take a shit...and not put it back up. And he's OFTEN shitting, i'll have you know. I'M very regular, but he's quite a competitor in the shitting department. I've surely mentioned before how he also doesn't grasp the concept of turning on the bathroom vent to both air things out AND muffle the sounds of his urgent huffing and puffing as he drops the kids off in the pool? Many a meal has been ruined by the putrid smells and unsettling sounds wafting down the hall into the kitchen.

Even more perplexing (and seemingly a new habit), in the morning before he goes to work, he'll even put the LID down. What the FUCK is he doing that warrants the LID being down? Putting his shoes on? Eating his breakfast in there? WHAT?! All I know is that I'm fucking tired of wasting precious seconds of my life putting the seat up before I unleash my pent-up urine. He's a fucking MAN. If you're a MAN and you either live alone or only with OTHER men, isn't the NORMAL position of the toilet seat UP?! Aren't men KNOWN to keep the toilet seat UP?! Don't you put the seat back UP after you shit, understanding that you're a MAN and more often than not come to the toilet to STAND there and piss? Well, not in MY fucking house anymore. Jesus fucking Christ, there is NO end to his aggravation. Jesus, I beg of you to take Dipshit's wheel and steer him out of my life!!

Baird Jones, I never knew ya...

Just read that Baird Jones died 2 weeks ago. He was a very well-known NYC party promoter/minor league gossip columnist for more than 30 years. The "curator" for venerable Webster Hall. Only 53 when he died. One of those "fringe" NYC characters always on "the scene"...and who always seem to die alone, too young, in a "wacky" Village apartment. It's sad to me...these people seem to live these incredibly flashy lives, but I always get the impression it's empty and lonely at its core. I'm always suspicious of people who HAVE to be out partying every fucking night of their lives. What are they running from? Just seems a terribly sad cautionary tale to me. Let it be known, though...Mr. Jones was Ivy League-educated and from a family of media titans, so he's not EXACTLY the Sad Example i'm referencing. A bit, though.

And here's why I mention his passing -- I never went to one of his parties, but for YEARS had TONS of his cards/passes. It was only within the past year, I'd guess, that I got rid of MOST of them. Yes, I kept 6...and they still sit in my main desk drawer. Well, at this MOMENT, they're next to me for reference purposes. One's much older than the other and very yellowed. You know what...bear with me here, i'm writing as I remember...I originally only HAD the one, then called one of his "hotline" numbers and ordered some of my own. Damn, I'd forgotten that.

I'd gotten the first card WAY back in either late high school or early college...from a year-older high school acquaintance who was, to me at the time, the epitome of hip. This guy represented what NYC was all about to me at the time...velvet ropes, doormen, impossibly slick people. You know, the way it still is to many...but you're more starry-eyed about it when you're 17 and can't legally drink. Didn't take long at all for me to lose all patience for doormen, lines, and cover charges, not to mention pretentious tools. But I digress.

The point is, Baird Jones represents a Certain Time in my life...even though I never even used his passes. I can still hear his voice, though...for a while there, I'd call regularly, always with the intention/hope of finally going. He'd ramble at LENGTH, and in a very casual, non-scripted way, about where all the parties were, what time to go, what to wear, what to say to the doorman, blah blah blah. Tomorrow, I'll call his numbers again...see if someone's taken his place, or if it's a tribute...or if the numbers are simply disconnected, forever lost to the past.

Funny...make that scary...my original card is so old that it uses the word DISCOTHEQUES. Um, still, this is like the early 90s, not 1978. And there's the little drawing on the card of a preppy-looking Baird, minus the hat I'm reading he always wore. Damn, I even have his actual address written on this card. Had I planned on stalking him? Insinuating myself into his NYC world? Or I could've just had the address for mailing purposes. Who knows. I just know these cards are likely worthless now...and yet, they're now bizarre collectors' items! So another eccentric NYC fixture is gone...one I knew in a most-peripheral way. One who'll forever remind me of being young in NYC. He's actually throwing one final party from the grave...well, in HONOR of him by his friends...at Plumm on Friday...open wine bar...ANYONE can go...just like his parties always were open to anyone, not just the elite. Hmm, maybe i'll finally go. Good night, Baird.

I'll say it again...THE CAUCUS SYSTEM NEEDS TO GO...NOW!!

And I'll keep saying it until my blog becomes a national sensation and my ideas catch on and the world becomes right. Caucuses are ASININE and outdated...flat out ABSURD. Go in the FUCKING BOOTH and VOTE...like normal Americans. And while I'm at it, let me again rail against the maddening DELEGATE system, along with the DNC's completely bungled handling of Florida and Michigan's votes. All three of those things need an overhaul. Must everything be so ridiculously convoluted?! Oh, and you should only be able to vote for YOUR registered party, unless you're a smart Independent. I'm even starting to think four-year terms are far too long. Christ, there is SO much that isn't right.

Hillary wins big! The Obama wave crashes! And yours truly can't possibly gloat enough!

Change THIS, motherfuckers! Put away your funeral black for Hillary, idiots. Damn, and I SWORE I wouldn't get personal. I just can't help it...I mean, i'm RIGHT...as usual. But even more than being right, it's ALWAYS about vindication with me. When others walk around so FUCKING irritatingly cocksure...when I know they're wrong. Know it with every fiber of my being. I can't EXPRESS the immense satisfaction I feel when I'm proven right. Oh, the smugness that will carry me through each moment of the next 48 hours or so, knowing there's MILLIONS of people out there who were SO (delusionally) sure that tonight would be the final nail in Hillary Rodham Clinton's coffin, and who are now crestfallen and angry. YAY! Your aggravation makes me giddy. The Clintons have yet again FUCKED YOU IN THE ASS! And you HATE them. WHY won't they go away? HOW do they always rise like a phoenix? Well, because they're scary smart, as tenacious as pitbulls, manipulative when need be, arrogant. FIGHTERS. Kinda like me. *PS -- thank you, Rio Grande border Hispanics!!

A salute to dumb cashiers across this great land!

This is one of those blogs where you'll go, "did he REALLY just waste his time AND ours on THAT?" But it's about FREE MONEY (!!!), so yes, I will. I got this $100 AmEx gift card back in September...and somehow took until January 4th to use it up, despite having about 2,387 things I could have spent it on. I vividly recall where I used the last of it up...ShopRite Liquors, getting a case of beer for my grab bag gift for the last of my endless Xmas parties...yes, in January. Most amusing/scary is that I still have the receipt, as I painstakingly note most of my monetary purchases, and i'm way, way, WAY behind (for no good reason) inputting them into my "ledger."

SO...there's NO reason I should have made the 1-800 call to check my balance on the card...I KNOW I used it up, because i'm a detail-oriented nutcase. I shouldn't even have still HAD the card in my possession...most people would've tossed it in the trash the moment it was depleted of funds. But for 2 months, it sat in my wallet for no reason. Then I called to check the balance for "no reason." So imagine my stunned surprise when I was told I had $10.97 left. WHAT?! I called back and punched in each number VERY slowly to make sure. Yup, $10.97 left. I was giddy with delight. But HOW?!

Well, I also vividly recall the unbelievable STUPIDITY of the female cashier that night. This is where my rock solid memory AND still having the receipt aid the story. I had $12.97 left on my card. The case of Heineken Premium Light came to $14.97. I'd been so elated at the EVEN transaction this would be. Two dollars in cash would seal the deal. If ONLY it were so easy at the time. This stupid bitch -- who looked like she'd just stumbled out of an Ozarks outhouse -- could NOT handle this complicated matter. There was swiping of my card, followed by register malfunctions, then good old-fashioned adding and subtracting using a pen on paper...to figure out the $2.00 that I owed. The manager was soon called after the register wouldn't complete the deal. Everything was basically frozen. As I stood there, aching to flee, patience wearing thin, line backing up behind me.

So the receipt clears up how I wound up ahead here. The cashier rang up my $2 in cash as an AmEx purchase...leaving $10.97 left on the card. So I paid $2 for a case of beer, and Ozark Bitch was short $12.97 on her register that night (at least). Did you follow all that? I just HAD to write about this...it made my fucking day. And I still can't believe I even made the balance call or retained the card...there is ZERO reason for my having done so. This IS where I believe in Higher Powers...guiding me...urging me...with no basis in reason...toward the light. Or the green.

And now a Special Message to the Foreign Immigrants of Union City, NJ (or their interpreters)...

In this beautiful country of America, we have things called TRAFFIC LIGHTS. The actual lights are red, yellow, and green, and usually swing above the street, attached to big, long poles. They usually exist so pedestrians and automobiles know when to advance with the least likelihood of injury or death. Now what you need to do when you come to a street corner with a light is 1) look up, 2) see what color it is, and 3) react accordingly. Red means DON'T GO, yellow means FUCKING HUSTLE, and green means YOU'RE FREE TO SHUFFLE ACROSS AT YOUR GLACIALLY-PACED LEISURE. It's really a very, very simple process. What you DON'T want to do is what just happened to ME on my painfully-misguided Sunday afternoon trip to ShopRite. There were THREE of you walking slow as can be, stepping off the curb AS the light was yellow. Before you even BEGAN to cross in front of my car, the light was RED. And did I mention you were shuffling barely faster than a 90-year-old with one leg? I even gave you assholes a couple seconds to connect the dots that you were holding up an entire intersection before I hit my horn...which, naturally, didn't remotely translate into a quickened pace. You merely stared at me like I was the asshole. With every millisecond I sat there, I was closer to a heart attack. And YOU were closer to me gunning the gas and plowing your motherfucking asses into pieces. But it was yet another instance where Gary chose seething anger over imprisonment. But you're pushing your fucking luck, Nervy and/or Stupid Assholes of the World. As it stands, I already frequently wish for OTHERS you cause grief to snap and harm you -- not death, i'm not THAT evil, but severe pain and hardship would be nice. A Good Lesson, if you will. I have too much to do in this life, so I need others to snap for me. Hey, if lights mean nothing, by all means, take them down...make it a free-for-all! I'm all for that! But while they're up, FUCKING OBEY THEM! So I hope my gently-worded Street Crossing Lesson falls upon the ears of SOME of you law flouting local immigrants who make my simple local car trips an ulcer-inducing living hell.