quelle surprise

so i'm back in nyc

approaching double digit beer status and watching music \/ideos on demand

pink's who knew at the moment... um, i pretty much knew...that kelly clarkson would sing this song way better, you p!nk betch!

anyway i'm reading the follow up novel from the guy who wrote the mysterious incident of the dog in the nighttime or whatever. it's about a guy who has a lesion which he confuses for cancer as his sanity slowly unravels to madness, but all done with an eye toward propriety

so i was invited to this fashion week party. paul smith's preview party hosted by gq and beefeater. i didn't go because i thought drinking beers and watching pink would be better. something tells me i'm coming out on the winning end. i mean there's a dude in this video riding the gravitron and then overdosing and then the girlfriend drowns herself. i'm pretty sure i'd find nothing of the sort on the rooftop of the gansevoort. then again...

now a pulsing equalizer is being anthropomorphized to show jt doing his thang. it's just the lovestoned way, don't worry about it. she's freaky and she knows it. now you know that. at least it's melismatic.

i think that's about enough.

vma 2007

wow...britney committed to that performance like i do to a new flavor of vitamin water

seriously, britney, sorry that the adoring public got in the way of your lazy crack begotten lifestyle

all in all the vma's were a joke... i mean, forget about it

i'm heading back to nyc tomorrow... i hope that my week there without employment is more interesting that the two hour dirge that was the vma 2007 ceremony

i'm the first to admit that umbrella was a hot tune, but to pass up the likes of the white stripes and amy winehouse is just ridiculous

i'm glad i have this nyc bound week of joblessness to try to set right all the wrong that twas enacted by the last two hours of self improving culture

i'll do my best and promise little, but i'm tanner than when i left the city and ready to make it my own

first day

So today is officially the first day that i'm "not working." it feels pretty good. I mean I woke up and my biggest concerns were whether or not my mom had made coffee and if the sun was going to be out for when it's time to go sunbathing. Oh, and the fact that the phone charger I bought at Target didn't even work. I can't believe those decks sold me such a piece of shet!

It's actually pretty nice that I get a chance to spend some time at home. My mom's been a little under the weather recently, and with her daily treatments it's good for her to have someone around to take care of her and keep her company. I wish that could be my job--but there's not really any upward mobility in it.

Yesterday was spent just getting some sun, watching james blake blow it, and catching up on some TV I had missed. Last night I got to watch the new Californiacation and the latest installment of the Hills (hey, I gotta stay on top of this shit, okay?). BTW, what the hull was with spencer pratt's facial growth? It looks like he superglued rice crispies to his face. The addition of that wiry facial fuzz makes him look even more like a rodent than he did before. And why is he always smiling like that? What a shetbag.

Hmmm...what else...well, eventually I'm going to have to come up with some more profound observations/reflections to keep the readers interested (all 2 of them). Those insightful moments are better let loose by the lubricating qualities of empty bottles, so maybe later.

...

again i find myself jealous of the big brother cast...they're jobless like me but find a cash reward at the end of their rainbow...

my sunburn hurts and I've probably had more to drink than one who decided to stay home should...so much for that box of wine

here are the things i want to make happen when i get back to the city: the fist, the sparxxx and champagne combo, the term "dirty beggar," cleanliness in general, sunglasses, cole porter, joblessness, being tan, a new sofa.

the evening, the beach and the ballgame

We went to dinner. It was nice. There were mentions of an old whore's crotch and of course sporadic appearances by Judy Garland.

I had a succulent meal: a wedge salad, a filet oscar with a side of lump crab meat mac and cheese; I had a coffee and cheesecake to round out the meal. To drink, I had a couple of manhattans and a beer or two. Dinner was all around delicious and blissfully free of annoying children.

My sister and I came home and made a dent in a box of wine we had purchased earlier from Target. Good stuff. We waited for my sister’s friend to arrive from the other coast and my dad drove us out to a bar. We had a few drinks there and then called a taxi driver to remove us to another place. Once there, the girls met a pair interesting semi-octogenarians—one had blonde dreadlocks past his shoulders and the other, a son in high school.

My sister’s friend was pursued as far as the bar’s parking lot. Eventually we revealed that we were a trio of lovers and had no room for a fourth. After fending off an initial twinge of intrigue, the old man with boozy eyes scuffled back into the bar while we waited for our taxi to arrive and convey us safely home.

The three of us spent a few hours at the beach the next day. It was wickedly hot and the water was only 25% refreshing. We stayed long enough to feel sufficiently sunburn and old (the mean age at the beach must have been 16). By then it was time to go home and get ready for the baseball game.

We arrived at Pro Player stadium to discover it was maracas night at the ball field. It was an alright game—despite Jimmy Rollins hitting a lead off homerun, the Phillies let the Marlins score 7 runs in the first inning and never could come back. It was still a good time and I drank 4 beers. I slept most of the way home.

Tonight Gigi is coming over and we’re having our kababarita celebration. I’m in charge of drinks. My sister is doing most of the cooking and Gigi will probably do nothing. My mom isn’t feeling so hot today so she’s resting up for later. I’m just nursing my sunburn. I’m considering getting a new sofa for our apartment. We’re due. Now that I’ll be making more money I can actually entertain such notions within the realm of possibility. I think I’ll get a grey one.

Dinner...

So, I'm now in Florida. Before I was terminated I had already planned a trip home for the holiday weekend. I've now decided to extend my stay, dimensionalizing the jobless experience with greater accessibility to food and the misty, tropical je ne sais quoi of Naples, FL.

I flew in around 1:15 after an uneventful plane ride. I sat next to a woman who coddled a black cat in her lap for the majority of our journey. I thought to myself in other centuries she would be the perfect target for your village witch hunt: clearly single, neurotic, amply nosed, and there was the black cat thing as well.

Yes, we have no tequila...

After a quick chin wag with the parents and a brief trip to the new Target for a replacement phone charger, we're all now getting ready for our nice dinner out. Mom seems concerned that we don't have tequila for our Sunday kabobarita celebration and that no one else will refill the refrigerator with bottled waters. My sister is parading her hair extensions around the house and otherwise primping for dinner and going out afterwards. Dad is encouraging our two Chihuaua's to "do their business" while a documentary about the Brooklyn Dodgers plays in the background. I'm just really hungry and ready for some fucking surf and turf.


I think I'll have a Manhattan up.

Why Blog...

To answer the titular "Why blog" inquiry, I propose we start with a series of follow up questions:

• How often in life does one expect to find one's self in a position of joblessness for 17 days?
• When one does find one's self in a position of joblessness, how does one best leverage the situation?
• Finally, how does one enact said leveraging without compromising one's commitment to borderline alcoholism?

To put it succinctly, I was immediately terminated from my job when I announced I was leaving for another. I offered my two week's notice, but it was not accepted (or, in my case, necessary, as it was explained to me). Some might find this mildly distressing, or even altogether horrifying. Me? I'm thrilled.

I've been handed the opportunity of a lifetime--to pursue at age 23 a life that's as slothful and drunken as I choose, if only for a limited period of time.

I've started this blog to record the experience as it unfolds. I'm not making plans, but merely reacting to the whims of an unplanned life.

Business as usual has suddenly become a lot less business-like...