Tessa: i mean, he likes us
Tessa: but i'm not sure that makes him a good judge of character
29 October 2009
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18 October 2009
07 October 2009
28 September 2009
Why does...?
a new segment in which google supplies some pertinent questions we all need to ponder the answers to.
today: "why does...?"
25 September 2009
15 September 2009
10 September 2009
09 September 2009
Story time with Billy
I wonder if Billy will ever know that Nick forwards me his emails and then I proceed to post them on the internet? Ah, well...read on:
-----Original Message-----
From: William REDACTED
Sent: Tuesday, August 11, 2009 1:38 PM
To: REDACTED, Nicholas H.
Subject: Fwd: I showed you my ID
Mediocre story time. Had to share this with someone.
We're watching Joe's dog Lexi, and I just took her for a walk. And this
happened.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: William REDACTED
Date: Tue, Aug 11, 2009 at 1:31 PM
Subject: I showed you my ID
To: "Elinor REDACTED"
Had an interesting exchange with a bonafide crazy Lady at the dog run.
I'm wondering if she's not the same person you met this morning. Blue
dress, brown hair, sunglasses, late-twenties to thirties, definitely a
Sex in the City wannabe. Two dogs, one a german shepherd the other a
kind of mottled black, gray, brown mutt-type dog.
She lurked around by the gate for a while and then finally called me
over to explain that she'd just become a member and didn't have a key.
Also, she'd forgotten her code. And anyway could I please just let her
in? Oh, she also showed an ID to demonstrate that she *lived in the
neighborhood.* (She knew the secret neighborhood handshake?)
I said sorry lady I'm just a dog sitter and they told me not to let
anyone in.
At this point some natural instinctive con artist instinct must have
kicked in, because she ran through an elaborate routine, a mix of veiled
threats and attempts at ingratiation. But she ran through the routine
too quickly.
"That's the same dog from last night. What's her name?" (Ok, I'm not
telling you the dogs name so you can pretend you've met before.) Hi
whatsyourname. I live in the neighborhood. I showed you my ID. Any
impulse I might have had toward charity was overridden by the sense that
she was obviously lying.
She must have quickly decided the good-cop routine wouldn't work,
because she rapidly switched gears, going so far as to flash a small
police badge in a little leather section of her wallet and to announce,
in the sternest possible tones, "Look, dude. I'm a cop's sister." Then:
crazy, crazy, crazy. "What's your address. I'll have you evicted."
It was unclear to me what I was going to be evicted from (my house?
the dog run? the Village? My entire Meatpacking District privileges
revoked?) but I knew I didn't want to mess with this well connected
cop-sister anymore. I also knew there was no way in hell I was letting
her into the dog run, or even venturing outside myself as long as she
was standing there, so I went back in, and when there were two gates
between me and her I felt a little safer and I resumed having a catch
with Lexie.
Five or ten minutes elapse peacefully. .
At some point I noticed, rather ominously in retrospect, that Lexi was
spending a lot of time looking off at the entrance and that the Lady and
her two pets must have not given up. She crossed the street at one point
and I thought: maybe we're safe. She was on her cell phone maybe?
Calling in political favors?
Finally the door opens up. I can here it but I dare not turn around and
look. I stand there in the middle of the run throwing the ball at the
wall while Lexi, who has totally given up at this point, stares behind
me, and I wait half expecting to get stabbed in the back with a steak
knife.
Finally a figure emerges in my peripheral vision. She's standing off to
the left of me, about twenty feet away, just barely within range of my
peripheral vision.
Taking a picture of me with her iPhone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to have you evicted. I know you and I know that dog. You
don't even live here."
"What are you going to have me evicted from?"
"What's your address? I showed you my ID. You're just a dog walker,
right. You don't even live here. That's not even your dog. You're just a
fat guy. Look at your cankles. You should go for a run down by the
river. You're just a fat DOG WALKER."
This remark about my calves stung a bit. Also, I was a little annoyed
that she had managed to best me in my attempts to keep her out of the
dog run. But I think I kept my composure.
"Look, I'm just dog sitting," I said. "All I know is they told me not to
let anybody in here."
"I'm going to have you evicted. My sister started this organization
twelve years ago. And it's only for people in the neighborhood, and
you're not from the neighborhood. What's your address?" I showed you my
ID.
"You're kind of crazy, aren't you?" I said.
"You're right I'm crazy. What's your address? I'm going to have you
evicted."
Meanwhile, I'm trying to mobilize and stage a tactical retreat. But Lexi
is not cooperating. An excruciating, awkward interval ensues where Lexi
kind of half pees (I think mostly out of stress or
sympathy) in the middle of the run and I have to walk over and haul the
hose out and hose it down. Finally I manage to corall Lexi toward the
air-lock.
"You shouldn't call people fat," I said. "You'll give someone an eating
disorder."
"Good," she said. "You need one."
As I'm putting Lexi's collar on, she says and this is the line I've
found most haunting. "Pay it forward buddy."
Was she being ironic? Is this something people actually say or just
people people in Recovery with alcohol and drug issues? Did she know I
was going to be writing this email? Was she really citing that terrible
movie with Haley Joel Osmet? Was that ironic too? Too, too complex.
"Pay what forward?," I said. "My eating disorder?"
And then I left.
Anyway. I hope I did the right thing and behaved as a Gentleman at all
times. I have a natural sympathy for crazy people as you well know, and
I'm as interested in helping the less fortunate as the next person. But
it's not like she was sitting by the roadside with a wooden bowl her
only earthly possession and bleeding eyes. She wanted to use the dog
run.
It was helpful that her appeals to my Robin Hood instincts were always
tempered by an ingrained, reflexive elitism and status obsession. So I
think I'm safe on the moral front. But I might have bigger problems.
There's a very well connected Lady out there somewhere with a fake
police badge, a brother who's a cop, and a sister who's a seminal figure
in the East Village dog run scene, and she wants to have me evicted.
-----Original Message-----
From: William REDACTED
Sent: Tuesday, August 11, 2009 1:38 PM
To: REDACTED, Nicholas H.
Subject: Fwd: I showed you my ID
Mediocre story time. Had to share this with someone.
We're watching Joe's dog Lexi, and I just took her for a walk. And this
happened.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: William REDACTED
Date: Tue, Aug 11, 2009 at 1:31 PM
Subject: I showed you my ID
To: "Elinor REDACTED"
Had an interesting exchange with a bonafide crazy Lady at the dog run.
I'm wondering if she's not the same person you met this morning. Blue
dress, brown hair, sunglasses, late-twenties to thirties, definitely a
Sex in the City wannabe. Two dogs, one a german shepherd the other a
kind of mottled black, gray, brown mutt-type dog.
She lurked around by the gate for a while and then finally called me
over to explain that she'd just become a member and didn't have a key.
Also, she'd forgotten her code. And anyway could I please just let her
in? Oh, she also showed an ID to demonstrate that she *lived in the
neighborhood.* (She knew the secret neighborhood handshake?)
I said sorry lady I'm just a dog sitter and they told me not to let
anyone in.
At this point some natural instinctive con artist instinct must have
kicked in, because she ran through an elaborate routine, a mix of veiled
threats and attempts at ingratiation. But she ran through the routine
too quickly.
"That's the same dog from last night. What's her name?" (Ok, I'm not
telling you the dogs name so you can pretend you've met before.) Hi
whatsyourname. I live in the neighborhood. I showed you my ID. Any
impulse I might have had toward charity was overridden by the sense that
she was obviously lying.
She must have quickly decided the good-cop routine wouldn't work,
because she rapidly switched gears, going so far as to flash a small
police badge in a little leather section of her wallet and to announce,
in the sternest possible tones, "Look, dude. I'm a cop's sister." Then:
crazy, crazy, crazy. "What's your address. I'll have you evicted."
It was unclear to me what I was going to be evicted from (my house?
the dog run? the Village? My entire Meatpacking District privileges
revoked?) but I knew I didn't want to mess with this well connected
cop-sister anymore. I also knew there was no way in hell I was letting
her into the dog run, or even venturing outside myself as long as she
was standing there, so I went back in, and when there were two gates
between me and her I felt a little safer and I resumed having a catch
with Lexie.
Five or ten minutes elapse peacefully. .
At some point I noticed, rather ominously in retrospect, that Lexi was
spending a lot of time looking off at the entrance and that the Lady and
her two pets must have not given up. She crossed the street at one point
and I thought: maybe we're safe. She was on her cell phone maybe?
Calling in political favors?
Finally the door opens up. I can here it but I dare not turn around and
look. I stand there in the middle of the run throwing the ball at the
wall while Lexi, who has totally given up at this point, stares behind
me, and I wait half expecting to get stabbed in the back with a steak
knife.
Finally a figure emerges in my peripheral vision. She's standing off to
the left of me, about twenty feet away, just barely within range of my
peripheral vision.
Taking a picture of me with her iPhone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to have you evicted. I know you and I know that dog. You
don't even live here."
"What are you going to have me evicted from?"
"What's your address? I showed you my ID. You're just a dog walker,
right. You don't even live here. That's not even your dog. You're just a
fat guy. Look at your cankles. You should go for a run down by the
river. You're just a fat DOG WALKER."
This remark about my calves stung a bit. Also, I was a little annoyed
that she had managed to best me in my attempts to keep her out of the
dog run. But I think I kept my composure.
"Look, I'm just dog sitting," I said. "All I know is they told me not to
let anybody in here."
"I'm going to have you evicted. My sister started this organization
twelve years ago. And it's only for people in the neighborhood, and
you're not from the neighborhood. What's your address?" I showed you my
ID.
"You're kind of crazy, aren't you?" I said.
"You're right I'm crazy. What's your address? I'm going to have you
evicted."
Meanwhile, I'm trying to mobilize and stage a tactical retreat. But Lexi
is not cooperating. An excruciating, awkward interval ensues where Lexi
kind of half pees (I think mostly out of stress or
sympathy) in the middle of the run and I have to walk over and haul the
hose out and hose it down. Finally I manage to corall Lexi toward the
air-lock.
"You shouldn't call people fat," I said. "You'll give someone an eating
disorder."
"Good," she said. "You need one."
As I'm putting Lexi's collar on, she says and this is the line I've
found most haunting. "Pay it forward buddy."
Was she being ironic? Is this something people actually say or just
people people in Recovery with alcohol and drug issues? Did she know I
was going to be writing this email? Was she really citing that terrible
movie with Haley Joel Osmet? Was that ironic too? Too, too complex.
"Pay what forward?," I said. "My eating disorder?"
And then I left.
Anyway. I hope I did the right thing and behaved as a Gentleman at all
times. I have a natural sympathy for crazy people as you well know, and
I'm as interested in helping the less fortunate as the next person. But
it's not like she was sitting by the roadside with a wooden bowl her
only earthly possession and bleeding eyes. She wanted to use the dog
run.
It was helpful that her appeals to my Robin Hood instincts were always
tempered by an ingrained, reflexive elitism and status obsession. So I
think I'm safe on the moral front. But I might have bigger problems.
There's a very well connected Lady out there somewhere with a fake
police badge, a brother who's a cop, and a sister who's a seminal figure
in the East Village dog run scene, and she wants to have me evicted.
02 September 2009
28 August 2009
25 August 2009
dreams of dog park safaris
I miss Francis. I am considering getting some kind of replacement. Goldfish perhaps? Discuss.
05 August 2009
LIFE UPDATE
Um, I bought a harmonica and a how to play harmonica instantly book.
I am striving to be a recognized virtuoso.
I am striving to be a recognized virtuoso.
07 July 2009
truth via gchat: technology can be hard for parents to understand
Lauren: Hi, Nichele! Daddy and I went to see Public Enemies on Sunday, and it turns out Kayla was there in a different theater watching the end of it just as ours was starting. She loved it, typically, as she likes those intense, bloody violent films. I didn't know much of anything about John Dillinger, but she apparently looked him up and felt like the film was true to his life story. It's a very sad but predictable ending, of course, which likely you won't like. Daddy wasn't sure he liked it. I think it will get Johnny Depp an Academy Award Nomination.
Sent at 2:14 PM on Tuesday
Lauren: I'm going to eat some lunch now. bye. Mom
me: bye mom
Sent at 2:17 PM on Tuesday
Sent at 2:14 PM on Tuesday
Lauren: I'm going to eat some lunch now. bye. Mom
me: bye mom
Sent at 2:17 PM on Tuesday
30 June 2009
29 June 2009
26 June 2009
16 April 2009
07 April 2009
Things I think about: pantless wonders
Does Mary own a pair of long pants? I have never seen her wear any.
03 April 2009
they miss me, i'm sure.
mary hates me and nichele signed me up for a dating website. already, i have received messages like this wonder:
Wild and creative enough to be enticing......balanced and kind enough to feel good about the decision Sending an invitation to open dialogue, flirting and any variety of topics…..as for me.....im a creative, successful in happiness, playful man in san francisco.....open to meeting and know the difference between a sexy partner in crime and a head case....im insatiable on many levels….chemistry…….., physically strong I surf and practice yoga and cannot go without hot springs or steams rooms for long. I am only interested in quality people……those that are honest…..open and not afraid to explore...... I live and breath , enjoy laughter, sarcasm, debate, grooving…., positive energy……. Im into great music….eating/cooking ….…..the art of seriously great kissing I have had many of life's experiences and know who I am........like the same in others
Wild and creative enough to be enticing......balanced and kind enough to feel good about the decision Sending an invitation to open dialogue, flirting and any variety of topics…..as for me.....im a creative, successful in happiness, playful man in san francisco.....open to meeting and know the difference between a sexy partner in crime and a head case....im insatiable on many levels….chemistry…….., physically strong I surf and practice yoga and cannot go without hot springs or steams rooms for long. I am only interested in quality people……those that are honest…..open and not afraid to explore...... I live and breath , enjoy laughter, sarcasm, debate, grooving…., positive energy……. Im into great music….eating/cooking ….…..the art of seriously great kissing I have had many of life's experiences and know who I am........like the same in others
24 January 2009
Koreatown: The Gym
K-k-k-K-town.
Whiiile back, Tessa and I went to the gym and watched a man wearing TIGHT-ASS JEANS run on a treadmill. He winked at Tessa.
Today, I watched a man wearing JEAN SHORTS and SLIP-ON KEDS run on a treadmill.
Moral of the story: Heaven is a place on earth.
Whiiile back, Tessa and I went to the gym and watched a man wearing TIGHT-ASS JEANS run on a treadmill. He winked at Tessa.
Today, I watched a man wearing JEAN SHORTS and SLIP-ON KEDS run on a treadmill.
Moral of the story: Heaven is a place on earth.
20 January 2009
15 January 2009
STFU
….and we’re BACK! I’d like to apologize for the 6 people out there that try and read our blog on a daily basis for our extended absence. I’d like to, but unfortunately I don’t feel bad. Nothing about this blog is for you. It’s primary reason for existence is in order to give us an open public forum to abuse one another.
Anyways, we’ve returned so get off my fucking back.
04 January 2009
Quotables: 715 S. Normandie
Location: Roof
Time: Late
Subject: The greatness of Tessa's Bose SoundDock (thanks Jayne!)
Tessa: Could you imagine ten years ago sitting around listening to music from a portable player? It's magic. It's like a unicorn.
Everyone: IDIOT.
Time: Late
Subject: The greatness of Tessa's Bose SoundDock (thanks Jayne!)
Tessa: Could you imagine ten years ago sitting around listening to music from a portable player? It's magic. It's like a unicorn.
Everyone: IDIOT.
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