Friday, March 25, 2011

You might be tired of these window-reflecting/colossus-strides-Manhattan-type pictures....

 ...but I certainly am not.  From the 36th floor room I snagged the other day.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Michelle, you and Erica need to try this

Although I think you have....

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A visit from Jo & Matt!

They are a witchy pair...

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Looking down on the Port Authority from room 3604, the Westin

We used to do shows right next to that striped building in the center. That's where the Houseman used to be.

LaGuardia to Midtown

Welcome to New York. I'm curious: what exactly are the beneficial effects of two guys randomly standing in the street with oversized weapons? That'll stop the terrorists!

Monday, March 21, 2011

If I am detained by the authorities... will probably have something to do with the looks I was getting as I dragged this gigantic, clearly bulgingly-full, super-industrial-strength, anti-body-fluid-leakage-style, ominous, black, obviously weighty body bag down to the basement and wrestled it into the back of my car. At the very least, I should get more space on the elevators.

It's full of most of what was in my closet that I hadn't worn in years. Which was most of what was in my closet. Only big bag I could find. Seriously overkill: this bag could hold a wheelbarrow full of decaying offal without fear of mess, leaking, or breakage. It's made of plastic the thickness of a dying gazelle's ankles.  So if you want to know how thick that is and you have a gazelle around the house, shoot it, and then grab its ankles.  Presto.  I suspect my landlord is a serial killer now for even having these tucked away in some cabinet.  To Goodwill!

Saturday, March 19, 2011

It was just pointed out to me...

...that I got a haircut less than a week ago. And already, once again, I look like a sperm whale sounding.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Sprucing up da Joint

We're getting a new sign out front of the Carlyle House. Undoubtedly, soon it will actually SAY 'The Carlyle House.'  I wish we could vote on that. I know what I'D vote for...

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Once again, it's hard not to notice...

...that Spartanburg enjoys its own peculiar sort of homicidal fame. Seriously, every other true-life cop murder show is set there.  Michelle said Jim likes these kind of shows. Does he notice that they are all local?

Stuck under the Kennedy Center for 30 minutes today. I managed to flirt with college girls sculling in the Potomac, who must have been freezing. I am at that point where flirting works much better at a distance. This was supposed to be a picture of them flexing their muscles, which they had been doing. But the digital camera always waits a second and they were lowering their girly muscular arms before the picture was taken. Ah well. It wasn't warm out, either. I didn't envy them at all. Other than for being young and athletic.  So, quite a bit, actually.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Wrappin' Up the Ritz

The Ritz Carlton is a beautiful place to stay. If I had a favorite hotel, this would be it.

It's nice when it's sunny...

It's nice when it's rainy...

But I only stay here when other people are footing the bill, because above all, the Ritz Carlton in Naples is a place for the Very Rich.

And the Very Rich are Very Weird.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Ritz Carlton, Naples, FL

Crab cake,anyone?

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


OK, I realize that the fight between rich NFL team owners and rich, violent, obnoxious players is a hard one to pick a winner in. But as always -- management sucks more.  So much more it's hard to believe anyone thinks the players are anything more than distant runners-up in this particular who's-the-biggest-asshole contest.  I think this writer gives a very nice flavor of exactly what is going on in the "labor dispute" in professional football. If by labor dispute you mean, "My boss wants to take back my raises, cut my benefits, and increase the risk I face at work, because his obscenely fat-cat, greedy, shithead, take-home pay hasn't doubled this year, it's only grown at a normal rate."  Pardon my French, but fuck management and authority in general ALWAYS.  What management and authority wants is NEVER GOOD for anyone but their own pockets.  OK, off to Naples, FL in the morning. At the Ritz!

Monday, March 7, 2011

Farewell to this old faithful Samsung Instinct

It was starting to be a little too eccentric. New droid phone for just $20, since I'm years overdue for a phone upgrade. Maybe my pictures will look better. Doubtful, as they will still be of me.   :)

Sunday, March 6, 2011 Fart Boy

Fart Boy is a ludicrous toy of the sort that TW is constantly getting his hands on: things that make fart noises. He's had whoopie cushions of varying brands, cans with built-in wheezers that you overturn, jars of goo you swirl to get the coveted 'sucking fart' sound, and others I can no longer recall. Fart Boy is a plush toy seated on a bean-bag chair. He used to have a finger on  a string that you pulled (get it? 'Pull my finger!') after which a loud flatulent explosion would sound from beneath his chair.

We were out of town somewhere in Pennsylvania hours from home when the tomfoolery with Fart Boy reached a climax and one thing led to another and next thing you know, they had pulled his finger clean OFF and no more would he sound his happy farting tune. So TW tossed him callously in the trash: cold, lonely, and so far from home.

Fart Boy is pissed.

Fart Boy wants revenge.

Fart Boy has equipped himself with a strap-on usb drive...

If you open it and plug it in, there is only one file on it: an mp3 sound file with a spoken message from Fart Boy. A dire, dire message.

Fart Boy places himself in a padded container because he's crazy; also it will help protect him in his travels...

...a padded container with a message of its own.  Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Then Fart Boy has himself placed in a suitable shipping parcel...

Next, Fart Boy contacts his friend Dave Kane. Dave has to help. Fart Boy knows where some of Dave's skeletons are buried. Do not fuck mess with Fart Boy.

Dave accepts the parcel and lunches with his cousin, Dominic, visiting from his law office in London. The name of the font on the package is 'vengeance,' by the way. "It's the little things," says Fart Boy.

Dave knows where Dominic's skeletons are buried, so soon Fart Boy is on his way to Europe.

Hopefully it won't be long before he will be winging his way back to Columbia, MD.  TW will then espy a package sent from a strange law firm in London, be curious, tear it open, only to confront the cheap-ass broken toy he hurled into the trash some 8 months earlier in some nameless town in Pennsylvania he can't even remember. A toy that is now threatening him in a creepy robot voice.

It takes so little to make me happy.    :)

Saturday, March 5, 2011

"The goal of the expedition is to reach the rim of the lava lake. Nobody has previously survived such an encounter."

Normally I don't just link to stuff here, but lava scares and fascinates me.  These guys climbed down to a lava lake inside a volcano. A volcano that periodically overflows and kills everything around it. I think they're nuts.

Friday, March 4, 2011

5 hours to Dulles

"These are the times that try men's holes."

I've never really understood that quote; I think it has something to do with plane rides and hemorrhoids. That's my contextualization, anyhow, and I'm sticking with it.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Governor Hotel, Olympia, WA

Normally, it's good sign to be across from a park and a bad sign to be across from a bus station. Here I have both. I'm not sure what to think. Perhaps I'll get to see hobos frolic and gambol and toss their wild manes...!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

5 hours to Seattle

Them an hour to Olympia. Stiff upper lip is required; stiff lower buttock is expected.

Go Caps!

My good pal Lenny, decided that A) being wealthy beyond normal measure, and B) inexperienced in many things, he wanted to go to a hockey game, so he took a bunch of us: me, Brian, and Felicia, to be exact. It was damn exciting. We saw the Caps tie it up with 47 seconds left in the game, and then two minutes into the overtime, I got to see the best hockey player in the world --Ovechkin- drive down the ice, dodging and knocking people down, to score the Caps' winning goal. Brian --who is a season-ticket-style hockey nut-- said we saw something that will be on highlight films for decades - AND WE WERE THERE!  That's him circling the ice in a spotlight.  Ovechkin, not Brian. Though that would be amusing.

In honor...