Mind Pacing

'Lola Versus'

2011-06-14T06:05:00.001-07:00

Camera crews unloading and moving equipment onto campus...as far as I got so far but I'll try some sketchy paparazzi work on way to subway...

Lola Versus filming on block...

2011-06-14T05:53:00.000-07:00

From what I'm seeing a low budget romcom starring Greta Gerwig and previously starring Orlando Bloom is filming on my block today in Brooklyn. It looks like they are setting up inside the Pratt University campus in one of the classic old brick and ivy-laced buildings for a scene.

I actually saw a blondisb pretty-yet-unremarbable in jeans and a yellow jacket, coffee cup toting woman jump out of a black suv and get walked to a trailor by a hipster looking production assistant...from the looks of pictures it appears that was Greta Gerwig.

I'm hoping to run into her male costar, Joel Kinnaman, who is currently playing the sketchy yet heroic co-detective in AMC's The Killing. Kinnaman has reportedly taken over for Orlando Bloom in Lola Versus...a trade I'll take any day personally. I find Bloom a little too precious for my male lead tastes.

I'll add some pics of the action is I can. As much as I find the random movie set popping up in my Brooklyn 'hood to be a unique and special New York experience I also never seem to catch any of the real action, ever...plus although I work sort of in that business I'm always way too big of a wuss to brazenly snap pictures.

The Return of the Purple Marauder

2011-06-13T12:40:00.000-07:00

My life has become a little clearer since I last logged onto this blog...I was startled to see that was two years ago. I've changed a few things and I think I know what I'm doing a little bit more so we'll see, all you people I sadly imagine may one day stumble across these digital pages.

I suppose the biggest thing is, I'm not sure how a blog is supposed to work...two years ago I thought that meant I had to try to emulate others and write disingenuously...now I know all I can do is write for real, and see what happens.

I changed my fake bloggin gname from one I hoped would convey some bullshit sense of literary "hip" to one I used in college when making prank calls. I'd get high and challenge meathead athletes to steel cage death matches, and each time it was amazing to hear them take it so fucking serious you could almost feel the heat bulging out of their neck veins while they screamed at a gravelly voice at the other end going by The Purple Marauder to meet them in person to engage in physical battle.

I love writing, and sadly I have the same panic attack every two years or so that I'm unable to figure out how to write for a living. Problem is, while I've been doing all that worrying the last two years between posts I forgot one big thing...to just write.

I guess that's my goal now, be the Purple Marauder and not someone taking themselves, and their life, so fucking serious...advice I think Lebron James could heed right about now as well.

2009-08-10T15:17:00.001-07:00

Cooking dinner tonight...I imagine the kitchen will feel similar to the hot tempered streets I'm walking dog through tonight...boiling voices, the drip and hum from exhausted air conditioners...life starting to return to normal, albeit sweaty.

2009-08-10T15:10:00.001-07:00

Hazy Brooklyn night...

2009-08-04T04:36:00.001-07:00

Choice Cafe in Brooklyn...can't believe it took us a year to find this place. Sitting outside with my dog and an iced coffee.

I need a drink

2009-07-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

What a freaking week last week was. The curve balls life can throw you are truly the most humbling experiences, in a flash you realize your life, and dreams, and plans are as fragile as a fly clinging to the windshield of a car driving down the freeway, just waiting to be flicked aside and smashed into a thousand pieces at any moment.

With my show airing last week, the past two weeks were stress time for me professionally. Putting an hour on national television always seems to come down to the final two weeks, no matter how many months you've been writing and filming and planning. The panic of what you missed, what will and won't work, and what never came through all hit about the Wednesday before the final week. I thrive on the pressure, but I'm also a walking stress bomb trying to pull together the many thoughts and ideas high stepping through my brain like crazed circus performers.

Last week started with a stupid decision, my girlfriend and I took our five month old puppy to be neutered on Monday, a decision that has sank in my heart for weeks as I thought about taking that away from him, his natural instincts, his bravado, his balls. I know it is, in the long term the right thing to do but dam it, who am I to take away a man's ability to make babies? To piss everywhere in an act of territorial machismo? To have the urge to dominate and stake a claim in weaker dogs?

Because of these conflicting feelings I made sure my girlfriend actually delivered him to the vet, so she would always be associated with the trauma and I would remain as fun, nut friendly dad. The surgery went well, and when I got home Monday night my poor, drugged up pooch was sitting in the corner, cone of shame sadly hanging around his furry head as he tossed me a look that simply said, "what happened?" I nearly broke down right there.

As the drugs wore off that night we quickly realized what a problem this was going to be, Conan was unable to walk, and was totally obsessed with trying to bite and lick the stitches, turning the cone of shame into a weapon with which he could drag the edges across his missing gonads and stitches.

If we had waited until this week I could have spent most days home with him, recuperating from my show and the past few months and depending how the show was received mending each of our wounded pride. Because we did it last week my girlfriend was forced to spend Tuesday at home with him, and when he still wasn't better she took off Wednesday as well. This is where the curve ball comes.

Wednesday morning, I can only think about work and how important that was at the time to me. A stupid hour of national television that people will never remember caused me to ignore my injured pup and the sacrifice my girlfriend was making for me to take care of him for us. So without uttering a thank you that morning I stormed off in a huff, buried in my blackberry trying to tie together the final parts of the show as my girlfriend complained of feeling tired.

It was a little after 1 p.m., I was hunched at my desk, leg shaking, obsessing over some video choices for part of the show when my cell phone started ringing. My girlfriend's mother, an odd call that caused me to pause before answering. About an hour before I called my girlfriend to see how it was going, and I thought it was strange that she was taking a nap when she answered the phone. A feeling of dread settled over me as I picked up the cell and answered, her mother's voice a calm panic.

"She was at the grocery store, and suddenly she passed out, had a seizure on line and she's in an ambulance on her way to the Brooklyn Hospital."

At that moment my world feel to pieces. The dog, my job, bills, stress...gone, unimportant, meaningless. I Stood up and sprinted out of our office, fighting back fear and tears as I pictured my girl alone, afraid, suddenly in the back of an ambulance with no idea of what happened. She is so healthy and has never had any issues, I'm the fat slob who occasionally smokes and doesn't eat healthy making this call so much worse because it was so out of the blue. As I fought with cabbies to take me to Brooklyn she called me, from the ambulance, groggy and scared but just wanting to tell me she was ok.

I finally found a hack willing to take me all the way to Brooklyn, and I proceeded to have the longest, most horrible cab ride ever through midday traffic. Sitting amidst a sea of cars, heat vines snaking around you as a chorus of horns and mouths and machines hammer at you and an uninterested cabbie yammers away at his cell phone while your world and life seems to be slipping away with each red light, i realized what real stress was. Stress isn't putting on a television show, stress is having the most important person in the world suffer a medical emergency out of nowhere, and being unable to help her, or be with her, or tell her what happened. Stress is not being able to reach her again on her cell phone and have every terrible thought go through your head for why.

Relief is when you get to the hospital and see her, scared and sad sitting alone in a hospital bed, pushing aside the security guard trying to tell you to sign a form and hugging her with all you have left because you know she's your world and you're so sorry she was alone.

She's doing ok now, confidence shaken and we're both still not sure what happened. The hospital and her doctor chalked it up to low blood pressure and a fainting spell, followed by a bad bump on the head. People at the grocery store claim it looked like she had a seizure and the neurologist can't see her until the 27th. So until the 27th we wait, and pray, and hope it was just a fluke no matter what. If I needed a humility check, or an appreciation of what is really important check I got it in a big way. The fragility, how instantly it can be taken from you while you're too busy with work to even see the right hook coming is terrifying.

Life is not only short, but it hangs by a string and I'm going to spend a lot of time hugging my girl, petting my pooch, and finding the work I really want.

Scary

2009-06-24T05:56:00.000-07:00

Well I'm home again, as always it feels great to drop my bags on our glossy wood floors, plop on the couch like I haven't sat in days and get some much needed love from my girlfriend and puppy. Ohio was a somber reminder of how much people are hurting right now, and how dark it seems for many. Was next in Newport, Rhode Island which was a somber reminder of how rich and carefree some people are. I think I'm settled somewhere in between...

A frightening thing happened the day I returned home, a building down the block from me collapsed on itself. Several people were injured as the decayed brick and cement skeleton pancaked on top of itself. I ran down just as the emergency crews were getting a hold of the situation and the local news crews were screeching up like glamorized, self important super heros whose duty is to actually do nothing but stoke a little fear about rogue collapsing buildings (trust me, I know). I caught a woman, ashen face, sobbing into her wrinkled hands about losing everything, and you could see the faintest remains of a little girl's pink walls inside the rubble.

Thankfully nobody was killed, I hear a few bricks started to fall, people ran out and suddenly the roof caved in followed by the top two floors. I cannot imagine losing everything I own like that...I know they're only possessions but after I shook my head for a moment about actually getting out in time, it would be absolutely devastating to realize every single thing I own, clothing to medicine to electronics, pictures and computers are buried beneath a ton of cement, brick and sheet rock. I don't know what I'd do, I'm not poor but I only have a few bucks to spare and it would take me months to buy enough clothing for work, new shoes, refill my prescriptions. It's amazing how quickly life can just go to shit, I just hope those people are strong enough to make it through this.

Another victim of the collapse is the neighborhood itself. It's like the block that building was on, Myrtle Avenue, was just getting on its feet and away from the Murder Avenue nickname. There were great stores and bars and people all along the strip...now that building is gone and they have to tear down two others badly damaged by the collapse, which will in turn create an ugly eye sore and absolutely shutdown commerce. It's the kind of event that can ripple into something far bigger than a four story building, during a time in our economy when each and every store owner and employee are holding onto the desperate thought that that next person shuffling by will be a customer.

On a personal note, the first story of the building was a pretty decent bar called Vesper. It was the closest sports bar to me at only two blocks away, had a good selection of beer, darts, a nice back deck and two flat screen televisions. Seems pretty normal, I know, but in this artsy neighborhood you'll find a lot of "conversation" bars with nothing but a few stools and a couple of beers on tap. Fine by me, but I'm the kind of guy that will go into a bar alone if I can nurse a few pints while zoning out to whatever game is on, without television I'm always scared someone will start talking to me and I manically zip around on my Blackberry to look busy.

The other day I was in Vesper, and the crowd was a little bit too snobby hipster...the kind of people who glare when a guy like me, in a polo shirt just off work walks in. It's funny how the "cool" people who aren't supposed to care about anything really care the most. Anyways, I shrugged it off and sat on a stool. It was 7 and the Yankees were playing the Mets, I couldn't really imagine a New York bar NOT playing that game however both televisions where set to the Stanley Cup game.

I like hockey, and I'd like to flip back to that game at certain points but this is New York, the Yankees are playing the Mets and the hockey match was still just on warm ups and announcer face time. I politely asked the bartender if he could put the baseball game on and he tossed a finger in the direction of a couple of gender ambiguous people at the Foosball table in skinny jeans and said, "sorry they were in here first and asked for the hockey game." I politely replied that the hockey game wasn't starting for another 20 minutes, and the baseball game had already started, could we just watch a little bit? He asked me what team I liked, with a certain glint in his eye and I knew what that meant. I took a pull, swallowed and proclaimed the Yankees without blinking because as a hated Yankee fan you run into this from time to time, and I'm no man to hide my affiliation.

On cue the balding, height challenged barkeep shook his head and walked away. A typical Red Sox d-bag hiding out in New York. At that point I chugged my beer, declared a principal boycott on the establishment and uttered a silent curse about the situation. One week later the whole roof caves in on the building.

2009-06-16T16:40:00.001-07:00

There's a sad bitterness hanging over Moraine, Ohio...the gray, decaying, weed choked GM plant says it all...what once was the ticket to a middle class dream is reminder of hard days past and harder days to come. I hope they can pull through...back to brooklyn.

2009-06-16T03:18:00.001-07:00

In Dayton, Ohio...a city on the fence, surrounded by the midwest staples: vast candy colored strips of instant satisfaction and rusted, slouched relics of a middle class dream long since faded.

Time for a Change

2009-06-09T13:09:00.000-07:00

Been quite a while since last having a moment to write…my puppy’s morning walk and an increasing work load as my next project nears its due date are sucking my time away like watching Heidi and Spencer Pratt on television sucks away one’s soul. I need to get back into the swing of things though to tone up my writing skills, my itch to move into freelance writing to earn some extra dough is becoming more of a necessity as my paycheck shrinks each week…since I started my current gig in network television I’ve lost $30,000 in salary over the past 3 years with every round of belt tightening. I’d also bet another $30,000 not a single boss sitting directly above me could say the same thing.

I've also found a direct correlation to my waist size as work increases. My goal has been to lose 50 pounds and get back into a healthy weight, say about 200 pounds. I haven’t weighed that much since freshman year of college, which was probably the single most fun year of my life in terms of shirking all responsibility and any attempt to show up to class (my mom was sent a letter home asking if I’d dropped out of school) in favor of nightly binge drinking and coed romps in my top bunk. Although my lack of respect and appreciation for learning was disgusting, what I’d give to have that freedom again…

Back to my original train of thought, my health decreasing job. Although my fear of outing my identity and losing my only steady paycheck prevent me from revealing my exact nature of work, I can say it was what I thought a dream job when I first walked off the New York City streets a sweaty, nervous cub reporter from a small newspaper.

It is a really great job, let me say, one that actually allows me to do interesting work that can inform and at times (in my own head at least) make a difference. It can also cause really crazy people to send me threatening and highly entertaining emails but I put that on the plus side.

However the state of things these days has caused our upper management to really suck the life out of work in terms of relegating a once exciting out of the box job to coordinating others from the gray confirms of a cubicle. They’d rather pay some uninterested, passion-lacking freelancer a few dollars less than sending me on a flight and putting me up into a cheap hotel room for the actual fun of the job. As that adventure shrinks along with our meager pay they heap more and more work on us like demented grave diggers while it seems those paid the most shrug more and more duty and responsibility on us lower form of beings shoulders while they drag their fat asses to expensive, four hour lunches and complain about losing their weekly supply of Diet Coke.

If I thought the top was suffering at least a little bit like the bottom I could swallow all of these moves a little more, bite the pillow and thank my lucky stars for still being gainfully employed. Yet I’m tapped into the comings and goings of the top tier from their loose lipped assistants opening my eyes to the fact that a weak economy just gives management a better excuse for screwing us over, paying us less, and ensuring their cushy life remains as is.

So as they increase my work and take away all the fun elements and I reverse my trend of losing my double chin through a lack of “me” time at the gym and panicked, stress induced binge eating and the misery of each day corrodes away at me like a pool of acid in my stomach after sucking down hot wings at Blondie’s on the West Side, I find myself dreaming, needing to break away from this job and pursue my writing for fun and good pay, being my own boss, working my own hours and devoting time to my puppy and working out without having to sacrifice one or the other for the man.

I can’t handle the late night frets, and I can’t suppress the dreams of more any longer. My fingers feel like dancing for a living, I just need to find the music.

Back into it

2009-05-26T05:58:00.000-07:00

It's certainly hard getting back into the mental swing after a long and relaxing weekend. Didn't do much, but that was the plan all along. After Happy Hour last Wednesday draining $1 beers at Turtle Bay on the East side, soaking up the fleet week sights - basically a bunch of drunk sailors stumbling around as they rightly should be, I needed Thursday to recoup due to the fact I'm slinking into pathetic old-mandom. Funny how your tolerance for booze and staying up late and having fun reverts backwards into your early teen years as you get into your late 20's.

Friday was a blur, I sat in my cluttered high-walled cubicle and did my best to stay focused and get some work done on my upcoming projects yet my mind constantly drifted to the warm hug of the suburban sun, and my itch to escape the cold concrete grasp of Manhattan. Thankfully for the at times suffocating yet oh so liberating Blackberry I made my escape a tad early, which is really a process for me where I utilize everything I've learned from 007 and Jason Bourne.

I sit in the right hand corner of our floor, a few offices behind me house people who are mostly on par with me work wise except they've been there longer and thus have a windowless office. I make sure to avoid eye-contact with them and always keep my television on. I know it sucks up a little extra energy but turning your desk television off is a sure sign you're leaving for the day. I stand to stretch casually, scanning the floor for danger in the form of busy body coworkers who will certainly cackle "leaving early?" for everyone to hear if they see me dashing by with my messenger bag. I pick a route around the maze of cubes, making sure anybody I'm currently working on a project with is out of sight and make my escape, carefully tucking my messenger bag under whatever arm is faced away from anyone who could see me moving.

At this point my heart is pumping a little faster, the wash of fresh air is dangling in front of me as I take a sharp turn to the staircase. I've made the mistake of taking the elevator before, sure it's faster at times but it's not worth it. It always seems I run smack into someone I'm trying to avoid and have to defend myself as they ask "getting out early?" I usually act shocked at their question, roll my eyes as if "no, I'm never getting out of here today, just heading out for a minute with my bag." Also, the wait in the elevator lobby is deadly because it resides just outside the bathrooms and is a busy intersection for the floor.

As I wind down the gray stairway, brown leather shoes clacking rhythmically downward the anticipation for sweet freedom rises with each floor I reach. I burst into the main lobby and immediately make a sharp right turn away from the exit in front of me, it's far to high profile and busy in the early afternoon. I casually head to the side exit down an empty hallway, duck past security and swing through the revolving doors. A quick scan of the sidewalk is the final hurtle, and this past Friday all was clear. Although I'm never quite clear until 5 p.m. when I can actually justify leaving, until that point I need to obsessively wheel through my ever growing email inbox for the news updates and anything that needs my response, always prepared to head right back to the office if needed but the slightly polluted air on my lungs as I shuffle to the subway knowing I'll reach home that much earlier is the sweetest feeling.

This Friday I met my girlfriend back in Brooklyn, scooped up the puppy and made it to her empty home nestled next to a quaint park on Long Island before the sun was down. The suburban quiet was exactly what I needed this weekend. We spent Saturday and Sunday lounging in the sun with the dog and a nice summer selection of adult sodas, playing in the park and grilling with friends, passing out each night to the wind brushing through the ancient trees on her screened in porch. No Hamptons or even the beach was needed, although both were within our reach. Sometimes you just need a comfy chair, a cold beer and a little sun next to your dog and love to clear the mind of life's clutter.

Making my way back to work in a few minutes, refreshed yet not quite ready for the hustle. I'm ready to grab work and its challenges by the throat for a few days, but mostly my mind wanders to the next escape.

2009-05-20T15:17:00.001-07:00

Happy Hour during fleet week...let the inevitable bar fights ensue.

Yankee Game Pics and Vids

2009-05-20T08:18:00.001-07:00

Finally a recap on the Yanks Game

2009-05-20T06:59:00.000-07:00

Finally getting a moment to write...has been a crazy few days to say the least. Friday was the Yankees game, and it did not disappoint. Left work a wee bit early and met my buddy for a little pre-game drink. I'm on a tight budget these days so I wanted to lubricate as much as possible before hand to avoid the $10 stadium beers. We headed to a solid haunt across from my office and I put down two delicious martinis (kettle 1, three olives, straight up). I think it was the first time in my life I'd had two martinis before 6 p.m., and as the cool spring breeze met me on the bustling happy hour sidewalk I decided it was a most excellent buzz.

We hopped up the Upper West Side to a few more places, I avoided any more glasses of ice cold vodka because I didn't want to fall down before the game started and it was a wise choice, although the final Delirium Tremens I downed at George Keeley's was NOT the most adult choice I could have made.

After a quick subway ride uptown we exited at 161st Street Yankee Stadium, as I joined the sea of blue and white working and chanting their way above ground it all felt the same, it wasn't until I hit pavement and instinctively moved across the street, under the overpass and through the bevy of bellowing vendors, scalpers, drunks to the old stadium I realized things were certainly different. My friend called out to me, beckoning across the street. There it stood, buzzing and sunny, squatting in all its coliseum-like glory was the new Yankee Stadium, except no doves flew over head, but I did see a few dirty blue pigeons flapping around the top arches.

It was really marvelous to see, a Hard Rock outdoor cafe greats you as you enter the massive outdoor patio and the comforting calls of hot dog and pretzel vendors barking away relaxed my apprehensions. After gazing for a moment across the street at the old, graying remnants the first thing I noticed about the new stadium was how easy it was to get inside to the seats. There are so many openings to choose from long gone it seems are the days squished with a thousand other impatient, drunk people fighting through one entrance per side. Walking in the newness of the place really hit me, it almost felt a little fake, like Disney World recreating a long lost Italian stadium that looks like it was made of real stone, but upon closer examination it's really just plastic. The inside area is like a vast, open air atrium with glass walls and super high ceilings covered in murals of past and present greats and flickering flat screens. Another extension of the Hard Rock Cafe, as well as other restaurants and vendors dotted the inner circle, wafting about the warm smell of fried food.

The other thing I instantly noticed were the many ways to get up into the upper reaches of the stadium, I can remember huffing my way up a windy ramp to get to the nosebleeds, at the new stadium there are massive elevators and escalators everywhere. Luckily for us though our seats were ridiculous, 20 rows from the field just to the right of home plate. As I said in an early post, my friend's sister is a media buyer and she gets great perks like this for free, our tickets face value were $365 dollars EACH.

The most fan friendly thing about the new stadium greeted us as we entered the inner circle. The field itself felt and smelled very much like the old field, the blue and black and crisp whites and browns where all there and the cool glow of the white lights were just starting to shine down, however unlike the old stadium where a tight, iron curtain closed off any view of the field from the concession hallways, anyone can walk around the first level of the new stadium and view the game from a great vantage. All around the outside of the seating area are spots to stand and have a beer and watch from a better view than up above, and it is totally kosher to do so. There are also way more, and much nicer, bathrooms and tons of beer and food stands all on the outside of the field. It felt like a small city almost, with a baseball game happening in the middle of the town square.

After grabbing a couple of souvenir cup $10 beers (inevitable) we walked down into the rich guy seats, and what seats they are. I can only really compare them to Jet Blue seats, where as every other airplane I've been in has stiff, terrible seats until you fly in Jet Blue's plush leather armchairs. That's like the first level seats at Yankee Stadium, they are wide and soft blue leather treats to settle into, I've never sat in such comfort for a game. They also have a great seat ordering system like Madison Square Garden, where waiters bring you any type of food or drink you can really think of. Finally the big screen looming over center field is incredible, has to be at least 50 feet across, yet is as crystal clear HD as your own home television. The only sad thing was aside from Kate Hudson and a few other rich a-holes, the seats in front of us were empty. It was also a little bit reassuring.

The game itself did not disappoint. Hughes struggled, but Arod didn't strike out in pressure moments (he walked), Jeter smacked a home run, we saw the first inside the park homerun at the stadium (at this point I was hammered and can't remember who did it, but it was a Yankee), and the game came down to the bottom of the 9th, two outs and one of my favorites Melky Cabrera looped a single into right center to send in the game winning run and erupt this shiny, glinting stadium into the magical bedlam of old. You could almost feel the ghosts breath a sigh of relief from the rafters above, as the stadium itself settled into the Bronx terra below to the sweet sounds of Frank Sinatra.

2009-05-17T09:44:00.001-07:00

Nothing like a cold pint on a gray Sunday afternoon at Brooklyn Public House...

2009-05-16T10:42:00.001-07:00

What a stadium...what a game...the magic is back. Vids and pics Monday...happy graduation to all.

A Glimpse of the New

2009-05-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

Happy to say it's Friday...I could really use this week to be over. However this weekend consists of two graduations and graduation parties Saturday and Sunday, which is depressing on multiple levels and means my two days off before a Hellish next week traveling are shot.

On the plus side I'm headed to my first Yankees game tonight at the new stadium. To the chagrin of some of my imaginary readers I am a big Yankees fan, ever since my dad shoved me into a Yankees jumper when I was a baby. He grew up by the stadium as a kid, although for a while he was a big Willie Mays, New York Giants fan post their move to San Francisco. I actually put a book on Willie Mays in his coffin when he died...sniff....

Anyways, I used to live in the Upper West Side, near Columbia and a solid 15 minutes subway from the stadium so I went to probably a dozen games a year. I was sad about the old stadium closing but I've also heard how cool the new stadiums are so I was pretty excited for this season despite now living in Brooklyn, and having a much farther trip home after the game.

As anyone who has watched sports have heard, and to my total shock when I saw, the prices to get a seat at the new Yankee Stadium are INSANE. The only tickets under $100 suck, except the bleachers which are $14 but sold out every game. It was sickening to see the Yankees charging literally thousands of dollars for a single game ticket, in the face of this economy with an arrogance I relish on the field but despise off. My tickets to tonight's game are in section 108, face value of $365! $365, that is more than any nice dinner I've ever paid for, including Gramercy Tavern. With the pay cut I've taken, or even if I was rich, I would never in my life pay that much for a single game ticket. Luckily my friend's sister is a media buyer, which has crappy pay but great perks...like $365 Yankee tickets now and then.

The real joke on the Yankees is a). they suck right now, and b). all the rich banks and companies they hoped would snatch up the $1500 a game tickets are bankrupt or on thin ice, and entire rows in the front of the stands are empty during games. I think I'd actually be embarrassed to be sitting in $1500 seats for a game right now. I was going to do a principal boycott with my brother on not going to a game this entire season because of the ticket prices (we've done this to Stewart's, Home Depot, certain restaurants on the Upper West Side including Popovers twice), but obviously I jumped ship on that moral stance as soon as sick, free tickets where handed to me.

I just hope they captured some of the feel of the old stadium, that it's not too plastic and bright. I'm looking for that feeling I'd get as a kid, standing under the overpass outside, gazing up Babe Ruth's bat, the din of the Bronx echoing in the perimeter, the PA beckoning inside. Mostly I hope there is that rush, the rush of green grass and bright lights, the first time the blue sea of seats and walls, the chocolate powder infield and crisp white lines would hit me as I'd walk out of the tunnel into the open air. I was pure magic, and I just hope the Yankees held on to a little bit of that.

Oh Carrie!

2009-05-14T05:36:00.000-07:00

Well...you've gotta love this God fearing, Christian warrior Carrie Prejean. After a lot of drama and suspense, the greatest hair piece in town made the tough choice of allowing his current publicity machine to generate more controversy!

Must have been really taxing for The Donald to sit, puckered face, strings of golden horse hair lingering in a soft, artificial office wind as he starred at her growing collection of topless photos to decide whether or not she should continue as the Queen of Cali. I can picture him, sunken into an over-sized leather chair, grading the level of arousal the pictures bring him...is it like smelling a $20, $50, or $100? Making his decision even harder I'm sure is the fact that salivating in the wings is a hard working, wholesome, soft spoken, dedicated blond with slightly off teeth and small breasts ready to replace Ms Prejean in a moment. Ug. At least we can all agree The Donald knows how to promote himself and won't sacrifice a good role model for young women for a good old media shit storm!

And no, I'm not saying her belief that gay marriage is wrong is a bad example, if anything it's a great example of sticking to your guns despite obvious peer pressure, mixed in with a few great lessons on self promotion tactics. But the fact that Carrie stood on that podium for her Donald press conference still clinging to the belief that Americans are stupid enough to buy into her sad sack tale of a "rouge photographer, an evil liberal wind conspiring to get a shot of her nipples when she wasn't looking - yet starring and making faces directly into the camera in a gay-concocted hypnosis spell" just makes me sick. Like, come on Carrie. You're hot, you're in your 20's, you didn't know your future so you took some sexy pictures to get some money. They aren't explicit, they aren't super distasteful but you did break your contract with Ms America (the new pics of the nipples, not the pink pantie pics) and you've repeatedly lied about it. You should lose your crown on that point alone, but a bigger issue is the fact that your own breast enhancing people are now saying you have completely shirked any and all duties as Ms California to shill for the Republican machine, and for that reason you should also lose your crown. Sadly, working in the news and meeting a lot of people it is also really clear there are those that completely buy her story, or at least vocalize that sentiment. They should be hit with a tack hammer.

This whole pageant should also lose all credibility, as Donald has clearly chosen to promote and stick with the controversy for his own interests, breaking his own rules and showing what a future WWF sham this pageant is turning into. Sadly, I don't think that matters to those who support Carrie, and to those who enjoy this circus but to me it is turning these women who, like it or not, are role models and stripping them of that title (literally). Even more sad, they probably will continue to be promoted as role models, showing tweens everywhere a little t&a is the fastest way to the cover of US Weekly.

2009-05-11T07:25:00.001-07:00

Wowzers it was cold this a.m.! Might have also been a little post weekend boozing shakes, but hey what can you do. Happy Mother's Day to all my imaginary readers as well.

As I was walking out to the subway this morning I notice a large squirrel chilling on the sidewalk. I noticed because I'd never seen a squirrel so big in my life, almost the size of a small dog. As I got closer I thought it was odd this squirrel lacked fuzz, then it turned to face me and surprise! It was the biggest GD rat I'd ever seen. It blinked at me for a moment with it's button sized eyes, I struggled to get my camera out, sensing no threat from the beast. I inched closer and tried to turn on the device the rat rotated around and slinked down a set of stairs, serpentine tail following. Never seen a rodent walk with such weight, it was truly the largest rat I'd ever seen, but before I could snap a pic it vanished amidst the trash like so many New York dreams.

But fear not. The legend of this rat lives, and I will capture at least a photo of it.

Some Nice Gossip on Ken Lewis and Bank of America

2009-05-06T07:08:00.000-07:00

Well...not much to discuss today except I went jogging. It was an odd feeling having several layers of fat bouncing around, and instant shin splints suck but was a positive step forward. My main goal is to be able to run for my life if ever needed...I'd hate to get taken out of this world because I was too fat and out of shape.

Anyways...was having some delicious martinis this weekend (kettle one, three olives) with a banker friend of mine. He's usually pretty tight lipped about his job because of the work I do, but after three glasses of vodka he shared something pretty funny with me.

Firstly, Ken Lewis - Bank of America Chairman (well, former), President, ect has been taking a lot of heat lately for his companies taxpayer-raping ways, and most recently lost his title as Chairman of the company is apparently regarded as a douche bag by most who work under him, and now I can see why.

My friend, who was picked up by Bank of America after losing his job at another failed bank several months ago was asked to meet Ken shortly after he was hired. He told me before they met in a board room, one of Ken's assistants approached my friend and pulled him aside. "When you address Mr. Lewis, you may only call him Mr. Chairman or Mr. Lewis," they sternly told my friend. Well, obviously this left an extremely bad taste in my friend's mouth. #1 he is a grown man, skilled at his job and #2 he, like many bankers is an alpha male and the last thing he needs is some shit head assistant informing him how he may "address" his boss, like he's some fucking diva singer. Well, I can tell you this, when the news broke about Lewis losing his "Mr. Chairman" position, many employees who'd encountered this demand shared a big, fat snicker. I'd also say that losing that title must have stung pretty bad if his ego really is that gigantic.

Second story, my friend was talking to a new transplant from North Carolina headquarters of BofA. This guy said, to the amusement of the New York City food snobs, the best place for dinner after work in Charlotte was an Outback Steakhouse near the office. This guy used to go all the time, they had a curbside system where you could order from your parked car and someone would bring the food out to you. So right before the economy collapsed and Bank of America ran into so much trouble financially after taking on Merrill Lynch, this guy was waiting in line for his Outback deliciousness when a super pimped out Mercedes rolls up behind him. The person brings out food, and asks this guy, "hi, food for Ken Lewis." At first the guy didn't register what was said, he just replied "no not me." But as the person walked to the Mercedes and handed the food through the window, he realized who was behind him and also realized their company was in trouble.

Happy Family

2009-05-04T09:45:00.001-07:00

A Great Weekend. Luckily my family survived, and actually had fun together, this weekend. A big step. My niece looked beautiful for her First Communion, and even my sister-in-laws atheist parents sat through the ceremony to support her. My other niece didn't throw a tantrum as her sister got all the praise, and my sister kept herself together and didn't throw a tantrum all weekend either...though she did have her subdued moments, mainly whenever my brother and I would try and share something good going on in our lives with everyone, or whenever my sister-in-law would speak, or especially when I gave my mom a new digital camera for her 70th, my brother hooked her up with 4 nights at the New York Athletic Club, two orchestra seats to Billy Elliot and a coach purse and my sister refused to give her present in front of anyone and left for a few hours to sulk. She's a little nuts, but I'm sure I'll be speaking more about that in the future.

Our puppy, although still not finished all his shots and technically not allowed outside was able to stretch his little legs on my brother's 10 acre property. It was way too hard to keep him inside all weekend and I think his recent biting and barking is because he has so much pent up energy being couped up in our apartment. He had a ball running around, eating grass that was almost as tall as he was, chasing birds and mixing it up with five cousin dogs. I was especially proud at how he totally dominated my mom's wimp dog. Although my brother's dog kicked his ass and sent him cowering between my legs.

Lastly, I bet $5 on the 50-1 long shot horse Mine that Bird in the Kentucky Derby because my nieces wanted me to and won $305 as he CRUSHED the field. Sadly those winnings will immediately be spread amongst various debts, and as with any gambling win I'm unable to stop thinking "if only I bet $20."

Now it's time to start another week battling swine flu, rain, and hard to please bosses. Yippie.

2009-05-01T11:25:00.001-07:00

"Did I ever tell you about the time Brasky took me out to go get a drink with him? We go off looking for a bar and we can't find one. Finally Brasky takes me to a vacant lot and says, 'Here we are.' We sat there for a year and a half?until sure enough, someone constructs a bar around us. Well, the day they opened we ordered a shot, drank it, and then burned the place to the ground. Brasky yelled over the roar of the flames, 'Always leave things the way you found 'em!'"

(in a high pitched voice) It's Friday!

2009-05-01T06:52:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like a gray, lazy morning to ease into the final day of the work week. I'm sitting at our dinning room table, the deep green canopy outside our fifth floor window sagging in wet dew. It's days like this I love to be at the Bronx Zoo, so jungle like and the animals always seem to be more active on a day like today.

Sadly we won't be able to really have fun this weekend. Tomorrow is my niece's First Communion upstate, and it also happens to be my mother's 70th birthday so we have to be up and on the road by 7 a.m. to make the disfuntional family festivities. Our puppy Conan will have fun with all his dog cousins though. I actually hope my brother's alpha dog Cora kicks his ass a little bit because he's starting to bite and bark a little to much. I also hope he doesn't try to hump my mom's wimp dog Gretal (worst name ever), she's a neurotic, skiddish snauzer and Conan's red rocket has been making appearances against my girlfriend's leg recently.

I think I'll finish my delicious Busteco Espresso, ponder my existence for a few more minutes looking out into the trees and trudge into the office. I hope in 8 hours anyone out there who reads this finds themselves in the warm embrace of a pint or two amongst those you care most about.

Thanks for the Advice Joe!

2009-04-30T06:57:00.000-07:00

Well...Joe Biden really did it this time.

This morning he flat out said people should avoid planes, subways, buses, group rickshaws...basically any mass transit. Now I'm sitting on the G train, trying to refuse any fear of H1N1,aka miss piggy disease but the old Spanish looking fellow who just coughed to my left and the rapid fire Spanish speaking ladies across from me hand feeding their coughing child yogurt have me a little freaked out.

I like Biden and his blunt ways...reminds me of the crazy vet at town picnics who'd get sauced and start letting everyone know how he really felt about minorities, government, society's failings, Germans...but I'm not sure a he should suggest people avoid mass transit.

I mean, thanks for the advice, Joe, but I rather enjoy huffing it three blocks through the ghetto, traveling down a dark and perpetually moldy staircase to spend the next 15 minutes on an either hot or frigid rat infested concrete slab, before stuffing my xxl large self into a crowded, hot, smelly metal tube to maybe eek out a corner of a rigid orange seat so I can try and tune out the piss covered, haggard homeless guy who was DEFINITELY just smoking weed lingers over me, piss stank filling my brain repeating "got a quarter, dime, fifty-cents?"

I just want to throw my Blackberry on the ground and scream "no, buddy, I don't have any money to give you. I can promise if I did I certainly wouldn't be sitting on this misery trap while it hurtles me to my second least favorite place on Earth each day. I'd have my fat ass planted in the black leather seat of a town car blasting the AC and leaving the windows open while I cram bacon egg and cheese sandwiches down my throat as I cackle at all the poor saps shuffling down the sidewalk who have to soak in your piss and who will now definately get swine flu!"

So, anyways Joe thanks for the advice and for making me really think hard about this choice of transit I have.

Oink Oink

2009-04-29T05:10:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to stay on the fringe of the Swine Flu "pandemic" as it's sprinkled it's porky little self across the world, but waking up to today's terror inducing news panic struck a cord.

CDC is now reporting 66 confirmed cases of Swine Flu in the U.S. and the virus seems to be popping up everywhere, after Germany has now reported it's first case and Britain and China announced they are bracing themselves for eventual breakouts. Then this morning, the first death announced in the U.S., a 23-month old child in Texas. The agape mouths, wide eyes and bright red spinning lower third graphics were out in full force as the shocking news was announced. I had the impression men in white plastic suits, led by Dustin Hoffman and an annoying monkey will be landing in our neighborhoods via helicopters and army tanks in minutes for a full quarantine.

Give me a freaking break, this is a new level of media fear mongering that is beyond shameful. People are scared of disease, rightfully so, and our corporate media folks are trumping this up to the biggest, scariest outbreak ever in an obvious ploy to spice up the news cycle and get those dollars rolling post pirate captain.

Let's put this pig flu in perspective. Oh, sorry per President Obama we're to refer to this flu now as H1N1, because pigs have it bad enough already with all the laying in shit and being eaten. A person has died, an infant child no less, from the flu. Granted this is a new strand of the flu, and it does seem to be spreading. To be honest though, if I'm on my way back from spring break in Cancun and I have a virus, I'm pretty psyched it's just the flu...perhaps a little sad I got it from a pig but that's another story.

The mere fact that this is new and has a easy to remember, slightly disturbing name and comes from the current hell on earth land of Mexico, already on the map for their out of control drug war gives this seemingly non-serious virus top billing as a threat to humanity. The kids in the Queens school are already out and about and talking, saying it was a mild illness. The child who died, the CDC has confirmed, was just in Mexico so it's not like this virus is floating around, randomly attacking helpless people.

The regular, non sexy flu kills TENS OF THOUSANDS of people a year. That alone should be the leading graph of these news reports, that this is NOT a big deal yet. Nobody freaks out when a cold spreads around the word and right now this strand is a little worse than a bad cold except if you happen to be someone with a very weak immune system, like ANY other flu or bad illness.

Yes, this could get worse, and if suddenly people start dropping like flies across Brooklyn I'll be the first to put on a mask, coat my body in Purell and lock myself in the bathroom. Until then everyone relax, wash your hands and please don't play into the media hype. I'd also avoid Mexico but there are about a dozen reasons why that is a good idea these days, so just add this one to the list.

Starting Another Brooklyn Summer

2009-04-28T07:19:00.000-07:00

Just to update, on Friday I sucked it up and dropped a considerable amount of money (for someone who is broke and has no money) to keep my corporate card alive...although some coworkers claimed yesterday I actually have until 120 days past due before they shut down my account, the woman with the crisp southern accent from JP Morgan Chase certainly didn't think so. I pictured her with high standing red hair, a gum addiction and lower back problems from slouching in her call center chair all day. She was not having any 120 days nonsense, sighed heavily whenever I requested her to type in any information or look anything up and abruptly hung up when I tried to sneak in a little attitude of my own after handing over my money, saying "I think you've taken enough of my money toda-" hang up. Didn't even let me get in the last, defeated word...

The weekend as anyone on the East Coast knows brought the angry fist of the sun down on us. For me, that means some serious sweating. For the most part I've developed a strong plan of action for these hot days that consists of under armor casual wear, lack of shame rocking cutoffs whenever appropriate, regular use of sweat rags or when I'm feeling a little crazy sweat bands, and a job where I can get away with Polo shirts almost everyday of the summer.

My issue during the current heat crisis is I'm still to fat from the winter to actually fit into any of my polo shirts and not look like I have tumors growing out of my sides. Luckily we live in Brooklyn and I had no reason to wear any sort of dressy shirt and my girlfriend has grown to at least be able to walk next to me as I were a cut off shirt out and about, however as the mercury creeps over 90 today, sadly I've decided to play hooky from work to avoid putting my love handles on the cruel, office gossip pedestal and I refuse to be a walking heat box in a long sleeve button up during a non essential workday.

I digress...even though I badly wanted to sit with my puppy in a dark corner with both fans trained on us full blast, my non sweaty girlfriend was excited to "enjoy" the weather and soak up our Brooklyn neighborhood.

We live on the border of Clinton Hill and Fort Greene, and took a nice long walk down to the to buy some food for our fire belly toads and newts, and a nice treat for our puppy. We passed through Fort Greene Park, with it's picnics and soccer games, kids riding bikes with water bottles stuck in the wheels to make a motorcycle sound, tennis matches and hoards of sun bathers sizzling away their pasty white skin. There was even a few homeless men who appeared to be practicing some sort of kung fu fight scene routine up on top of the hill by the sailors monument, but my girlfriend didn't allow my to gawk much. I love and used to live close to Central Park, but there's something less commercial, chill and a little more crazy about the vibe at the Brooklyn parks that suits me more.

After getting our supplies we walked back over to Havana Outpost...an amazing little eco friendly outdoor Mexican beer garden with the most delicious corn you can ever possibly eat. The line to get food was obscene, as usual, so we opted for just a few margaritas. Although they weren't quite frozen, the cool wash of tequila is one sure way to forget I was sweating. I sucked down a few of those, got a nice buzz and did what any hetero former rugby player would do, go shopping!

The Brooklyn Flea market is only a few blocks from our apartment, and is probably my favorite spot to go to after getting a little messed up. There's food and cold drinks and tons of fun stuff to pretend to have enough money to buy. The place was packed and buzzing with hipster glee, but I felt comfortable with my cut off, arm tattoo and booze induced glaze. We met a nice man from Vermont selling cheese, didn't even have to be good cheese (although it was DELICIOUS), but he was from a town close to where my girlfriend has a ski house. I decided that made him my friend, so we chatted about Vermont and he fed me little slices of cheese and before I knew it I handed the nice man $22 for a half pound each of my favorites. It didn't even matter that I meant to ask for a quarter pound of each, he was very happy and asked us to come visit, making him my second Flea buddy along with Elma Blint, a great jewelry designer. So there I was, happy and holding two chunks of delicious cheese at the Brooklyn Flea, sweating and drunk and ready for another great, unpretentious summer in Brooklyn.

Expensive Day

2009-04-24T07:03:00.001-07:00

Today isn't a fun day...sure it's sunny and Friday and I can almost taste the sweet cool wash of cheap, happy hour beer on my tongue...but I'm also sick and more importantly today is the final day my expenses are due before my corporate card is taken away from me.

I know, totally pathetic I could even be at this point, but I'm an epic screw up and procrastinator and it is now fully biting me in the ass. I've had these "skin of my teeth" moments with my card several times, our SAP system sucks and the nature of my work has me buried and exhausted for weeks at a time. We also put a lot of money on the corporate card, so expenses are due pretty much every two weeks. But this is the final moment for me, my literally last day as spelled out in bold letters on the snarky corporate email I received last week.

I haven't even headed to the office yet, because my options at this point to salvage my corporate account and any possibility of a promotion within the next few years all hinge on me working this out today, and I'd rather have that phone conversation with JP Morgan Chase from my empty apartment, not my high walled cubicle.

I've just come off three massive projects at work, several months worth of work all coming down to three consecutive hell weeks. Naturally living at my germ pool office for three weeks, eating Lenny's take out at least two meals a day and not sleeping got me sick. So instead of hammering out expenses this week, I was put on my ass while mucus purged itself from my system. Aside from a new appreciation of the View, and a bitter taste for Rachel Ray, I accomplished nothing.

I'm left today with a choice - either spend close to $2,000 of my own money (pretty much all of my money right now) and send my rent check in late this month OR do nothing, let the expenses I did filter through the system and pray to the corporate Gods something saves my arse yet another time.

So while I suck down espresso and pace around my wood floors, typing and deleting my Chase contact phone number nervously for the next few hours, I hope you enjoy your sunny, happy Friday.

Too Much Sharing

2009-04-22T12:41:00.000-07:00

The concept of too much sharing is about as old as the "sexting" stories big media outlets knife into morning consciousness from the perch of a cozy looking, brightly lit couch whenever they think the mom viewer needs a jolt. It's as old as a writer talking about the concept of over sharing on a forum that directly allows him to share to much. But as this is my foray into blogging and venting and trying this world out rather than writing about it from a cubicle, I figured I might as well get this cliched thought out of my mind.

It's in my mind not because I've been thinking about blogging, this is merely an exercise to try and sharpen, or put off, my goal of writing a novel. Rather it's in my mind because of two specific stories I've been thinking about this week. First Ms. America and her not so intelligent answer and yesterdayMeghan McCain, displaying yet another reason why she is the hope for all liberals to take over the Republican Party.

I'm not saying Ms California, Carrie Prejean, isn't entitled to her opinion but when she was asked a question about gay marriage on national television you'd think she'd have a less polarizing response. What she did was simply not smart, unless she wants to be in a blue power suit with her pearly whites splashed all over Fox News...in that case it was very smart.

Personally, I could care less who marries whom and I hope to God if I ever have a child I'll want them to have the same rights as any other American, regardless of who he or she wants to marry. I mean, the notion that homosexuals marrying each other will somehow corrupt this gun toting, beer swilling, woman beating, small nation bombing country is down right ridiculous. It's simply a bunch of stubborn bigots on one side not wanting to give an inch to a group that opposes their will and taps into the dark closet of each young Republican and their father.

I think her answer ties into something more cultural. That a young, sort of bright woman on the steps of stardom could so honestly share her feelings on a red hot topic while millions listen,without any filture, is a sure sign that over sharing is an officially deep-seated response.

When social networking first started it was fun to keep in touch with your peers in a new way, even better was it to be able to spy on everyone more deeply than pathologically checking away messages. Even better than that was the potential to be a star in your world. Your pictures and stories and witty comments, your beliefs and your opinions were front and center to anyone interested in logging in.

The tingle, the rush of putting yourself out there was intoxicating, it gave everyone a small taste of fame and I think the Internet age has proven Warhol's 15 minutes proclamation true. Some were willing to really put themselves out there with flesh or antics, others discovered their written words could be heard.

These days the norm is to have a page of your life, your stories, your opinions, out there for the world to see. The younger generations are now raised with this concept, and I think someone like Ms California so proudly and strongly proclaiming her stance on gay marriage could have just as easily been written on her Facebook wall. It was nothing strange to her, the reaction of hate and disgust back at her, not for having that opinion but for sharing it in such a way was what seems strange to her. Surely all those in her social networking circle at least had a hunch she leaned to the Christian right.

Perhaps what she did was a good thing, kept an important issue in the front of the cycle, raised a debate on right of speech, gave birth to Bill O'Reilly's new recurring wet dream...it certainly makes good television as they say. But it also sends a scary message about the ego of the younger generations. This over sharing has led to a level of self importance among people under 25 that certainly left a bad taste in mouth after any conversation with their type.

The fact that Ms California thinks anyone really gives a shit what she really feels about gay marriage, that anyone really watching her at that moment isn't also jerking off at the same time is amazing to me.

This point takes me to Megan McCain. She at first seemed like a nice rich kid trying to help her dad win over some young voters. But from the beginning I also never questioned her as a pawn in her father's campaign, I mean did anyone really ever take her seriously? Why in the world should we? I always just assumed she had no experience, that her ego grew out of the small bit of fame the right wing gave her and the opportunities she got from there were a result. I've read a few of her writings, she seemed ungrounded, lost trying to find her voice and where she could make the Republican machine more "young" and "hip."

Her recent public episodes over Ann Coulter and comments about her weight also showed she had a level of immaturity and temper only a true McCain could so publicly display behind the maverick curtain. Yet her newest public fit truly tops them all and is in my opinion one of the more hilariously embarrassing cases of over sharing to date that doesn't involve a penis.

To recap, on Tuesday Gawker.com posted a story regarding Meghan McCain getting blasted by an unnamed fellow Daily Beast writer for never actually accomplishing anything. I'd add, "on her own" to that statement and call it true. McCain of course took great offense to someone telling the truth about her and decided to over share with the world on Twitter her resume.

Before her rant was taken down from her Twitter stream, McCain opened with a "here's a list of all the jobs I have had in my life because apparently I need to fucking spell it out" line that was a sure sign she was writing angry and possibly drunk.

McCain goes on to tick off such work as "local church tutor," "flower deliverer and hospital desk worker," "intern at Newsweek magazine," children's book author, and creator of the first ever blog to track a presidential campaign. The last one I'd bet was untrue, and the rest all sound like cake jobs a rich senator's daughter showed up at to pad her resume. None sound like work, I cleaned maggots out of a deli's trash can in August once. That was work.

The fact that McCain chose to answer her critic so publicly is another sign that over sharing is now our knee jerk answer to almost everything. McCain surely realized how silly she sounded touting obvious cake jobs, fake claims, and family connections as true grit and spirit or she wouldn't have yanked the post from Twitter.

Again, this all gives us a great car crash to watch or read, but it also gives a lot of unqualified, unimportant people spotlight and energy that should go to someone who actually has a perspective or something to say.

Meghan McCain would probably find a voice and actually accomplish something on her own if she stopped trying to be what everyone wanted, and if she stopped presuming she had something more important to say than anyone else.

As my own ego puts this out to the public, and I hopefully stick to this endeavor to at least capture my lost love of writing for pleasure, I just hope those younger than me learn a little humility as our ability to over share and become famous in a key stroke only expands. I hope they learn nobody really gives a shit about what they have to say, unless they actually have something to say. At least we shouldn't.