The Vulnerable

Not much goes wrong in my little Santa Monica bubble, but a couple things happened today that made me realize we aren't all safe.  During my bender Sunday, my colleague little Kimi "Pie" mentioned that she had found something on her leg.  She explained that she saw her dermatologist who looked at it and said she was too young to have any problems.  Luckily, she was insistent and they found that it's a malignant melanoma.  (By the way, does anyone know of a web site of douche bag doctors who make wrong diagnosis?)   I didn't realize Kimi was getting her melanoma removed this week nor what it entailed until I saw her today.  She was hobbling around the bar with a bandage on her leg.  She showed me the four inch incision which they excavated down to the muscle.  They also removed a lymph node higher to make sure it hadn't spread.  She's young and I'm sure she'll be fine, but all the same she bathes in SPF 30 now and will only self tan.

Leaving O' Brien's a friend of mine yelled to me from Rick's Tavern.  I hadn't seen her in awhile so I stopped to say hi.  I noticed that she had a plastic cast on her hand and scars on her arms and chest.  It turns out my little friend was in bed when someone broke in and began stabbing her.  She fought the scum bag off.  At one point she grabbed the blade of the knife in her palm.  I guess she got him because they found his blood.  They've sent it for DNA typing and hopefully will find out who did it.  By the way, my friend lives about a mile from me in a seemingly safe part of Santa Monica.  She has since moved in with her brother who is taking care of her.

I'm sure both of my friends will be alright.  I can't think of it any other way until I see otherwise.  I've learned from my first friend that I should wear more sunscreen more often.  I learned from my other friend that even in Santa Monica women can be vulnerable.  If I ever drop a friend off, I always watch them walk to the door.  I guess now I'll have to walk with them.

"That Guy"

A friend of mine who I hadn't seen in years walked into O' Brien's on Sunday afternoon while I was working.  It was somewhat ironic since I used to walk into the bar on Sundays and he'd be working.  It was great to see him after all these years.  We caught up a bit and he left.  I saw him 8 hours later at O' Brien's to learn that he had been 86'd from the previous bar he was at.  It's been so many years that I don't remember if he was "That Guy."  You know "That Guy."  "That Guy" who gets really angry when he drinks or gets into fights or gets 86'd from a bar.  Well last night I found out that he is "That Guy."

My friend, let's call him "Paul," called me in the afternoon to watch the Laker game at a bar.  Although I had been out the previous two nights and really didn't want to be in a bar, I figured since he flew 3000 miles, I could ride my bike 2.  So I grabbed a bag of cookies and rode down to Rick's Tavern.  Now Rick's is a place that I do not frequent.  It's just up the street from my bar but seems to attract an odd element.  My understanding is that those who get 86'd from O' Brien's end up hanging out at Rick's, which is saying a lot.  

I arrived at Rick's and Paul was sitting at the bar.  I ordered a beer and a burger and a seat opened up a few stools down from him.  Although they had a huge lead in the beginning, the Lakers were giving it back.  The whole bar was into the game, which is always a bonus.  I ate my burger then distributed a cookie to Paul and a friend of his and gave Paul the bag.  I stipulated that these were for him but I didn't feel that he should eat more than one.  He's had them before, he knows the drill, but does he listen?  Who ever does in these situations?  We're in the fourth quarter and my cookie's kicking in.  Paul keeps ogling the bartender and mentions for the sixth time how he's been in love with her for four years.  Of course, this gets louder each time.  At some point Paul decides to have a second cookie.  Bad idea.  Paul's idea of humor now is to shout out, "Go Spurs."  The second time he does it, he elbows me first to show that he's joking.  When asked why I didn't laugh, I told him it wasn't funny the first time.  Eventually, this Jerk Off who I've served at O' Brien's sits down near us.  I'll call him "Jerk Off."  Now when I say Jerk Off, I mean this guy is probably a nice guy who tries way to hard to make people laugh or ingratiate himself.  Now Jerk Off is relatively harmless but he can be annoying.  Something I can ignore.  Unfortunately he has an exchange with the bartender which ends with the bartender saying, "This isn't New York."  Being from New York, Paul feels that this is his chance to jump in, which he eventually does.  I try to dissuade him but he starts in with Jerk Off and nothing but words are exchanged, which I find unnecessary, but no harm no foul.  Now I'm not a fan of violence, I can hold my own, but I just don't want to be a part of it.  I feel that sometimes people need to be taught a lesson.  Apparently, Paul feels that way about everyone, when in fact he's the one who needs the lesson.  The game ends, the Lakers win, we close out our check.

We're outside.  Paul and a couple others are having a smoke when one of the customers walks over and asks to bum a cigarette.  When I used to smoke, my rule was to give them to anyone who wasn't homeless or underaged, because I never knew when I would be in the same position.  Paul turns and yells, "No" in this guy's face.  To relay how loud it was I'll just say that my sphincter tightened real hard.  They exchange words and I walk away.  The night is going from funcomfortable to uncomfortable.  The plan at this point is Paul wants to go back to where he's staying to smoke some weed he's hooked up.  I'm high enough for two people so I just want to go grab a drink at O' Brien's.  I'm persuaded to go with him to where he's staying which, by the way, his host asked that he not bring anyone back with him.  This is something I'm willing to respect but in for a penny in for a pound.  The mission now is to find rolling papers.  We walk into a liquor store where two women are paying.  One has a sixer of Heineken so Paul says to the other, "She's getting a six pack of Heineken, what are you getting?"  She replies, "Tampons, advil, and water."  Paul says, "Can I get your number AND can I call you next week?"  The girls laugh and I'm thinking that this guy who is embarrassing me to no end finally has a modicum of wit.  That is until the one replies, "Calling me next week is a good idea."  And Paul says, "Why?"  He's not even in on his own joke.  I wish I could write this stuff, luckily, it writes itself.

We get the papers and cross the street.  We're walking back towards Rick's when Cigarette Bumming Guy walks toward us.  Paul, who is on the phone, walks towards CBG cutting off his path.  I'm thinking, "Really!"  I feel like I'm back in high school.  Words are exchanged, we walk away.  Nothing good can from this but it's Santa Monica; no one is looking for trouble, except the one guy I'm with.  We get back to where Paul is staying.  He had mentioned that it was messy, but nothing prepared me for this.  When he opened the front door there was a free-standing corporate sized copier in the entry.  Beyond that was just "eeew."  And those who know me know that I am in no way a clean person.  All I could think of was what the bathroom looked like.  Then I thought maybe this is the bathroom.  I took a few steps in and decided against going further, so Paul went inside while his buddy and I stood outside laughing.  A neighbor happened by looking for Paul's host.  We conversed with this dude for a few minutes to learn that his friend flowed him super rare and expensive bottles of wine, which apparently were stolen.  Good times.  So I'm leaning against the wall with my right shoulder and I'm so high that I feel like I have to switch positions, so I turn so both shoulders, my back, are against the wall.  But then I notice that Paul's buddy and the Stolen Wine Recipient were leaning with one shoulder, so I switched back.  Phew!  Didn't want to seem like a weirdo.

We made it to O' Brien's.  Hung out on the patio.  Had one drink.  Paul complained that his head was killing him and he shouldn't have had that second cookie.  Where had I heard that before?  Oh, yeah, from my mouth.  Although I find humor in it, the whole experience left me a little sad.  I wasn't proud having a friend who was "That Guy."

The Price of Gas

Thomas Friedman says it so much better than I can.  (Link here.)

The Bender

It's funny.  Now that I bartend, I don't drink nearly as much as I used to.  But, on occasion, I rise up and carpe the fucking diem to knock back a few beverages.  Grateful to be done with my shift.  I had heard a rumor that my friend Money Mike was celebrating his birthday at On the Waterfront.  Since I'm a big fan of their Erdinger Hefeweizen and and even bigger fan of Money Mike I figured I could go and have one.  When I got there, they were fixing to go to Nikki's which is further down in Venice.  I felt that since this is the way the train is rolling maybe I should hop on.  So my little Kimi pie (fellow bartender) and I headed down to Nikki's.  It was a beautiful day out.  We were cruising along watching the freaks when I heard a coarse Irish accent shout, "Dave Garber."  It was Paul Diskin, the Disco Ball, owner of O' Brien's.  Paul moved to Scottsdale to open a bar, so I was quite surprised to see him on the boardwalk.  We dragged him and his lovely girlfriend Lisa with us to Nikki's.  Nikki's was packed.  I had a mind eraser and a beer or as Money likes to say, "A shot and a wash."  After finishing said drinks we proceeded down to the Townhouse which had a DJ spinning some great tunes.  A shot and a wash later and Kimi and I were cutting a rug in the bar.  An hour later, the party train pulled into the station.  It was time to go home.

Although I don't like to drink and drive and I don't promote it, I've had some experience with driving under the influence, because in a place like Los Angeles, it can be a necessity.  Let me get one thing straight, I have two levels of inebriation: 1) too drunk to get pulled over, and 2) too drunk to drive.  Since my drive home is a straight shot and I was at the #1 level of non-sobriety, I took a chance.  When people ask if I gamble, I reply, "Only with my health."  I made it home safe and sound.  Now the last couple of years, I've mellowed out and normally would call it a night; but, since the Disco Ball was in town, I figured I could go out for one.  I showered, grabbed some cookies, and rode down to O' Brien's.  After all, it had been 4 hours since I'd been there.  I had a Ketel rocks and sat on the patio.  After nearly two hours waiting for Disco, I realized he was on Irish time.  For those who don't know "Irish time" like "Los Angeles Time" an hour means I'll be there eventually.  I gave up.  I hopped on my bike and should've gone home, but instead, I ate a cookie and rode up to J.P.'s.

I've driven past J.P.'s thousands of times and been in maybe twice.  It's kind of a shit hole, but a friend of mine was bartending so I decided to check it out.  I have completely changed my opinion about J.P.'s.  I bellied up to the bar.  My friend Jonas started me off with a beer.  They had a DJ, which seems to be a good thing in a bar.  I knew no one there until my friend Eddie showed up, but I still good conversations.  This woman Alison sitting next to me happened to be a native Angeleno, as well.  At one point she commented to the hottest girl in the bar that she was from here.  The hot girl replied, "I'm sorry."  On and off for the next hour or so, I listened to Alison say, "I'm gonna kick that bitch's ass."  I tried to talk her off the ledge, but wasn't helping matters when I would comment how hot said bitch was.  I presumed that Alison was upset because she was young and didn't know that hot girl wasn't worth her time.  When I found out that Alison is 32, I decided that Alison wasn't worth my time.  The crowd was mostly industry people (bartenders, servers, low lifes.)  Even the severely intoxicated were tolerable.  By the way, since I've become a bartender, I hate drunk people.  I hate white people, too, but that's a whole other post.  I had a few more beers then hopped on my bike and rode home.  I woke up with an old  hangover, but decided to trade it in for a new one.

My plan was to meet Adrian and Kathy for lunch then we would meet Disco at his hotel for a cocktail.  I woke up alright, not great.  I went to meet Adrian and Kathy but they were waylaid by public transportation.  I needed a drink.  I told them to meet me at the King's Head.  As an employee of an Irish Pub going to the King's Head for lunch is like someone working at Szechuan restaurant and going for say Cantonese, except at least the Chinese are known for their cuisine.  All I knew was that I needed a little hair of the dog.  I pounded a pint of Smithwicks when Adrian and Kathy showed up.  I ordered a Carlsberg to go with my English Breakfast.  The food was seriously mediocre but my body needed it so I shoveled it down.  Cocktails at the Loew's pool turned into beers at Big Dean's.

Big Dean's "Muscle In" Cafe is located under the Santa Monica pier.  I used to pass by and think, "What is this white trash beer bar cranking Bruce Springsteen?"  Fast forward a few years and I'm out front chugging a PBR screaming, "Born in the U.S.A.!"  I may be super rigid but I can change my opinion once in a while.  In any case, they redid the back of Big Dean's and put in a bar with flat screens.  We had an O' Brien's reunion of sorts.  It felt good to be back.  One of the Big Dean's  traditions is filling an 8 ounce cup of Bud Light and chugging with the staff.  I've never been good at chugging cold carbonated beer, but I held my own.  As the party broke off, I headed home.  Although I had fun, my beer buzz was weighing heavily on me.  I got home and tried to nap but failed miserably.  My night ended by watching Recount which I highly recommend. 

I woke up today with a slight hangover.  I can tell I'm getting old because I can't bounce back like I used to.  I guess if I drank more consistently I could.  At least it's something to shoot for.

Proust's Madeleine

Sunday at 4 ayem I was having a post-work beverage when my phone rang.  I rarely answer the phone at that hour but it was my colleague Tim, so I figured what could go wrong.  Unfortunately, at the end of the shift Tim hurt his vagina, actually his back, and asked if I could perhaps work for him in 7 hours.  I tried to sleep through the opening of the bar but failed miserably and awoke to my cell phone blowing up.  I was back at work less than 7 hours after I had left.  I noticed two credit cards left from our bar next door.  One was a name from my past.  About 10 years ago, it seemed that every woman I met was named Jen and to differentiate they all had nick names.  So one day attorney Jen set me up with financial analyst Jen.  The latter got her name from her junior status job at the time.  I picked her up and we went for sushi.  We had a great time and decided to get a drink and dessert at the restaurant my sister worked at.  We had some chocolately thing that F.A. Jen put on my lip and sucked it off.  That was hot.  Everything was going great until, she looked around and realized her purse had been stolen.  Uh, oh!  She claimed to have had $2,000 in it.  She explained that she was supposed to hook up some ecstasy for her brother.  I guess a hundred or so tabs would make sure her brother would have a great summer.  At this point she became $2,000 Jen.  We looked for her purse to no avail.  We made it back to her place.  Since her keys were in her purse, I had to break in for her.  (Chivalrous, hollah that!)   She realized that she hadn't put the entire two large in her purse, which was quite a relief to all concerned.  We ended up fooling around.  She passed out and I left.  Good times were had by all.  That was until two days later when she was admitted to the hospital for salmonella.  Maybe she got it from the sushi.  Hey, I ate the same thing and felt fine.  In any case, that was the last I saw of salmonella Jen.  That was until Tim broke his vagina.

Of all the Guinness joints in all the world she had to walk into mine.  Of course, she did, she left her credit card.  I addressed her by her name and she was impressed that I pronounced it right.  It was then that I said, "I don't know if you remember but we went out once and you got salmonella.  David Garber."  She replied, "And I got my purse stolen."  We caught up briefly.  She left.  I worked a couple more hours and then went on a decent sized bender that took me back to the days of salmonella Jen.  More on the bender next.

Hillary and Bobby

Occasionally my father will send me a news article which touches upon something we've spoken about or interested him, so I wasn't so sure why he sent me an article from the Boston Herald concerning Hillary's comment about RFK.  I don't recall having discussed the issue with him but it's something I want to talk about.  I feel that some people are going overboard with their belief that Hillary's sticking around hoping that Barack will get assassinated.  Although my mind is dark, it never went to that place.  What irritates me about the whole thing is that she is still around.  She tries to explain her never ending presidential run by drawing comparisons to other primaries, but this year is a totally different animal.  Everything is happening earlier.  For instance, two states, Florida and Michigan went against the DNC and moved their primaries up only to have them not counted.  Where California used to have its primary in June, this year it was on February 5th.  In fact, most of the pledged delegates were decided by April.  So instead of dredging up some past reality to suit her comparison to today's primary, and stepping in a massive, steaming, pile of shit along the way, just give it up, get out, and support your party, so we can take this country in the direction it needs to go.

Movie Reviews

For movie reviews, check out buyrentorsteal.blogspot.com.  The rating system is based on Buying a ticket or DVD, waiting for rental, or just stealing the film. 

buyrentorsteal.blogspot.com

Re Up

One of the great things about living in California, aside from the weather, women, and scenery, is the fact that one can get a prescription for medical marijuana.  As someone who knows many people who consume marijuana, I'm surprised more people don't have prescriptions.  "I don't want to end up on some list" is the excuse given most often.  Usually, it's the same people who will allow their computers to accept cookies so they can masturbate mercilessly.  I guess we all draw our own lines in the sand.  Since I got my first prescription, I have to return each year to re up.  Although I'm 8 days early, since I was on the east side of town I figured I'd get it out of the way.

It's a pretty mundane event.  It's like turning 21, now that you're legal, drinking is old hat.  The doctor's office is on LaCienega between Holloway and Santa Monica.  Coincidentally, I worked in the same building 15 years ago, when I got my one feature film credit.  This building wasn't suitable for cutting film, much less, house a doctor's office.  In any case, I walk in and sign my name on the clipboard.  One of two sweet, enormous men, Dot-Com or Griz, tells me to take a seat.  I sit down with about 6 others.  Only one of them looks like they may have an ailment of some sort.  Almost as soon as I sit down, Griz calls me in.  He tells me to sit in the third of four seats.  Five minutes later I'm called in to pay and hand over my California I.D.  I return to seat three.  Once the person in seat one stands, we all move down.  I eventually make it to the doctor's office.  The doctor is a nice man.  His medical certificate hangs next to his desk.  It's in a glassless frame so it's a bit weathered.  On top of his desk set many family pictures.  None of them face him which I found rather odd.  Maybe he's tired of looking at his family.  He asks me a few questions.  Signs a couple of papers.  Does a prostate exam.  Is he supposed to put both hands on my shoulders when he does that?  Then sends me back to the person I paid.  That's it.  I'm sure my name is on some list, but it's a small price to pay to be able to go to the store and treat my insomnia any time of day.

I Was Wrong

I gave basketball the short shrift yesterday because of all the scoring.  Well yesterday's Laker game proved me wrong.  Watching them come back from 20 down was a thrill.  I hope they keep up the good work.  I'm going to see Indiana Jones in a few hours.  Hope it doesn't suck.

Fast Kicking, Low Scoring, and TIES!!!

Like everything else, The Simpsons describes soccer to a T.  The UEFA Champions League final was today.  I'm sure I'm not ruining it for my tivoing readership when I tell you that Manchester United defeated Chelsea on penalty kicks.  What that means is that they played two 45 minutes halves, then two 15 minutes overtime periods to arrive at said penalty kicks.  Soccer gets a bad rap in this country, because as the title states it consists of low scoring and ties.  The former applies to baseball but because the American past time has such a presence in our brief history I guess people put up with it.  Author Nick Hornby has another view of low scoring in soccer, and I'm paraphrasing, that goals are better than orgasms because you know when you're about to have an orgasm while a goal is a surprise.  Americans can look down upon this low scoring sport but what is more interesting if either team will score in soccer or who will score the final two points out of 220 in a basketball game?  I will watch the Lakers vs. Spurs tonight, but in all honesty, I could watch the last couple of minutes and still be happy.  I can't say that about a soccer match.  Soccer will probably never catch on here like it has in the rest of the world for a couple of reasons.  First, it's two 45 minutes halves are not conducive to commercial television; therefore, the money isn't there.  Second, since there is so much money in other sports, such as football and basketball, most high school and college athletes gravitate towards those sports.  I would love to see if New Orleans Hornets guard Chris Paul was raised on soccer, what our national team would look like.  In fact, I wish we could've raised 20 of our best skilled football and basketball players on soccer.  We probably would have won the world cup by now.  By the way, if we ever do win the world cup, the rest of the world will quit soccer. 

Bush, the Knesset, and Iran

I know it's been a week since President Bush addressed the Knesset on the 60th anniversary of Israel's independence.  We've all heard the biggest news item to come out of that speech was Bush's reference to terrorist organizations and appeasement.  I heard denunciations from Barack Obama and many others in the democratic party.  It's possible that Bush was taking an underhanded swipe at Obama (I doubt it), but that's not what concerns me about the speech.  What concerns me occurs two paragraphs later when Bush says, "And America stands with you in firmly opposing Iran's nuclear weapons ambitions.  Permitting the world's leading sponsor of terror to possess the world's deadliest weapon would be an unforgivable betrayal of future generations.  For the sake of peace, the world must not allow Iran to have a nuclear weapon."  Is this saber rattling?  Is George W. giving Israel the go ahead in "opposing Iran's nuclear weapons ambitions"?  Some feel that an attack on Iran could occur before G.W. leaves office.  That would be a mistake.  Last night on Charlie Rose, David Hiliband, the British foreign secretary, was asked whether military action was on the table for Great Britain.  His response was, and I'm paraphrasing, that diplomacy is all that they are concerned with.  They don't discuss what is or is not on the table.  Their approach is 100% diplomacy.  This is a highly evolved position because they realize that Iran has huge problems.  First, even with the third largest oil reserves in the world, this is a country who must import gas because they can't convert their oil reserves.  One reason is sanctions keep large scale investment into such projects.  This doesn't make Iranians too happy.  Second, even with oil at $130 a barrel, Iran spends most of it's money propping up it's public sector and keeping imported gas at 12 cents a gallon.  This means no investment in the future of the country and inviting sanctions only makes it worse.  Lastly, with a 70% of the population under 30 the youth of Iran will tire of the Mullahs sacrificing their futures for the possession of a nuclear weapon.  For those who doubt Iran's intentions, remember Iran has no nuclear reactors for their refined uranium.  And for those who are concerned about Ahmanidejad, he'll be out in 2009 when their next presidential election is.  Trust me on the sunscreen.

The Highs and Lows of Bartending

One in an occasional series.

The highs outweigh the lows and when they don't I'll need to start looking for other work.  Most highs occur with sizable tips.  As a bartender, it's great to have "Heroes."  "Heroes" are those who leave outrageous tips which can change your final tally for the night.  Luckily, we had two on Friday night, which made our tip total harken back to last summer prior to the writer's strike and general economic malaise.  Saturday I had to women split the check and one left me 35% and the other 50%.  The both wrote on their credit card receipts that I am "awesome."  I love big tips but those comments make me love my job even more.  The Laker game Friday night was a huge high.  The bar was packed and everyone was rooting for the home team.  When the Lakers finally didn't give up their 19 point lead and pulled it out, the room went nuts.  Those are the moments I live for.  Los Angeles is the rare big city where very few root for the home team.  I blame the transplants.

The lows were few and far between this weekend.  Getting stiffed is an obvious low and with so many amateurs out on Friday and Saturday the chances of getting boned out of tip are high.  I try not to get upset with or yell at too many customers but I don't suffer fools.  One customer, I'll call him Blue Moon, orders the same thing every time, yes Blue Moon.  It costs 7 dollars.  So when he orders his 5th or 6th of the evening and I hand it to him, why the FUCK is he looking at me to tell him the price?  I actually said, "It still costs 7 dollars.  Why do I have to tell you?"  I love being a bartender.  

Why I Don't Carry a Gun

It was actually a great day.  Went to the gym.  Had a great workout.  Had a picnic in Palisades Park with two dear friends and their son, with the Pacific Ocean behind me and a Bay Cities Godmother in front of me.  The world, as they say, was my fucking oyster.  

I agreed to help a friend pick up some furniture.  Went down to U-Haul and picked up a cargo van, then made our way to Manhattan Beach, which by the way, is a whole other world.  My friend purchased the furniture second hand from a trophy wife who was keeping it at another trophy wife's home.  Both women were lovely but definitely could be extras in the Real Housewives of Manhattan Beach.  Noticed that both were augmented, and through conversation found out that both were separated; although, one is back together with her husband.  It's amazing what you can find out in five minutes of moving furniture.  We made it back in record time.  Got the stuff moved in and all we had to do was fill up the van and return it.  That's when the trouble started.

Pulled the van next to an open pump only to find out that it was out of order.  Oh, well, I'll just back it into the one behind it when that person was through.  After waiting a bit, I got out and saw that the gas was pumped on this Honda Accord, so I put the nozzle back in the pump and put the gas cap back on.  That's when Mr. Sales Guy with a gut and bluetooth ear piece came out of some tobacco shop.  "Can I help you?" he asked.  I told him that I wanted to fill up my van and return it and that I was just expediting the process.  He told me that there were other pumps.  I explained that a 10 foot van isn't easy to maneuver and since he was done maybe he could move his car.  You know what he said?  "No, I don't like your attitude."  So he walked back in the tobacco store, which isn't even associated with the gas station, and made me wait.  Since my friend had insurance on the U-Haul, I thought about ramming his car.  It would only cost me $150 and would have given me so much pleasure.  Instead I went in to the gas station to complain and this cheese dick eventually left.  What is up with people?  Is it alright to pump gas and then use that as a parking spot?  Los Angeles is the land of the entitled and I consider myself lucky because I've locked myself in a bubble with a six block radius, which usually contains cool people.  Unfortunately, I left my bubble and caught a glimpse of how bad the civilized world can be.  It's a good thing I don't carry a gun.

The Dream Team

John Edwards endorsed Barack Obama for the democratic nomination today.  Edwards would make a great vice-presidential candidate.  He is from the South, which is the biggest voting bloc in the country, and winning the South requires winning only one other region.  Second, he's a populist.  Many states that Hillary Clinton has won is because they feel that she champions the middle class versus Obama's elitist posture.  Lastly, he's white.  Just kidding.  Some feel Obama might go with Governor Bill Richardson in New Mexico, in order to court the latino vote, or someone from the military, General Wes Clark, so he can butch up his anti-war position.  Neither of these would be ideal.  Being a relative newbie to Washington, Obama needs someone with Washington experience.  Having been a senator and vice-presidential candidate (along with brand name recognition), John Edwards would round out a great ticket.  Obama and Edwards in the white house would be a sea change in American politics, and; more importantly, would point to a bright future in a country where the light at the end of the tunnel is quickly dimming.

What About Gay Aliens?

The Vatican's chief astronomer determined that it's okay to believe in aliens.  (Link here.)  The Rev. Jose Gabriel Funes claims that extraterrestrial life "'doesn't contradict our faith' because aliens would still be God's creatures."  Now that's a bold statement from a religion who doesn't accept all humans as "God's creatures."  According to scripture, homosexuality is a grave depravity.  Well didn't God create homosexuals?  Or homosexuality?  I guess was the Greeks.  Those philosophers loved to party.  I want to know what the Vatican thinks about gay aliens.

Vert and Nausea

Although I love going to Equinox, I've found that I've hit a plateau in my workouts.  I decided to check out Vert Fitness down the street.  They use a serious of hydraulic machines each hooked up to a computer which adjusts the resistance 10,000 times per second.  (I wonder what the workout would be if it only adjusted 9,000 times per second.)  I was told  by my trainer that a professional athlete working out there lost his lunch the other day.  All I could think was, "What a pussy!"  After about 10 minutes I needed to go out and get some air.  10 minutes after that I ran into the bathroom and attempted to vomit.  Unfortunately, I hadn't eaten enough breakfast.  I even picked my hands up off the tiled floor and toilet rim and shoved my fingers down my throat nearly puncturing a lung.  Alas, throwing up wasn't in the cards.  I finally made it from the bathroom where my trainer had a bag of ice on the ground for me to lay the back of my neck on.  I felt better in a couple of minutes and asked for more.  I was fine until I went back on one of the Vert machines.  I hiked up my dress and sprinted for the bathroom.  The nausea was so intense, yet all I could heave was saliva.  I laid on the tiled floor staring up at the underside of the shitter.  All I could think of was how much this work out sucked.  I eventually got up and returned to my bag of ice.  I finished the workout and will return for more.  Allegedly, the nausea only happens the first time.  I'll let you know.

"Aren't you Jewish?"

That was the response I got when I mentioned that I purchased a $7.50 cup of coffee.  I wasn't sure how to take it.  I didn't bring it up to be a braggart.  I brought it up as a topic of conversation, as in, "Man, can you believe one can buy a cup of coffee for that much?"  Was I being chastised for spending so much on a cup of joe?  I've seen the same person ruin Dom Perignon by putting orange juice in it, so I'm sure that wasn't it.  I know my friend was joking but I don't make jokes about her heritage.  Unfortunately, today certain things seem okay to say.  One is referring to someone cheap as being "Jewish."  It never ceases to amaze me.  I was at a wedding several years back and the "Money Dance" was brought up.  I had never heard of this ritual before, but some one at the table said, "Why?  Is this a Jewish wedding?"  Thinking he was serious, I racked my brain to remember if I'd heard about this at a Jewish wedding.  Then someone else spoke up and asked, "Is anyone here Jewish?"  That's when I said something.  It was uncomfortable for a few minutes, but it's better than beating down this fucking shaigetz so soon after my friend's wedding vows.  Maybe I'm being sensitive to what my friend said.  (I know.  It's hard to believe that I have feelings.)  But if I were black or Asian, would they make a comment referring to criminality or poor driving?  I'm gonna guess "no."  In all honesty, I tend to be more racist than most.  As someone who deals with the public, I find certain groups end up living down to my expectations.  But I neither think less of an individual because of their background (until they prove otherwise) nor do I believe in making a joke based on someone's race; thus, making them feel uncomfortable.  I tend to make jokes about the stupid.  Trust me, there are a lot of them. 

Three Times

I see a lot of films.  A couple of weeks ago, I went to the theater five times in five days.  It's tough to explain to people how good a film is.  One way I can explain is when I see a film multiple times.  Seeing a film twice doesn't mean anything in my book.  I saw The Departed twice just to make sure it was as bad as I thought.  I saw Superbad twice to see if I missed something the first time.  It's still not that great.  But seeing a film three times in the theater means I truly dig it.  Baby Mama is the most recent film to receive three viewings.  The previous film was Knocked Up.  They tend to be comedies, because I'm usually laughing so hard the first time, I need at least a second viewing to hear all the lines I missed.  Usually, I'll go a third time just to hear someone else laugh.  Don't worry I still crack up the third time.  I can think of two films that I saw four times in the theater, American Beauty and Reality Bites.  Both films really spoke to me.  I don't know how much the latter holds up, but I'm sure the first one still does.  American Beauty is the last Oscar winner that I gave a shit about.  Check out Baby Mama and let me know if it makes you laugh as hard as I did.

Shit's Expensive

As most of you know, when I travel east of Lincoln, I get a pack and some supplies and leave seven hours before my scheduled appointment.  Yesterday, I had to be at a friends' house at 6:45 so we could go to the Dodger game.  Therefore,  I left the house at noon to go see another friend in Glassel Park.  One of the highlights of my journey was going to LA Mill and getting a cup of coffee for $7.50.  Yes, you read that correctly, the cup of coffee cost seven dollars and fifty cents.  No, it did not come with a hand job.  (I had to slip the guy a fin for that.)  It does seem like a lot of money for coffee, especially without a refill.  A friend of mine had a $20 glass of champagne and I'm sure that doesn't even rank very high in terms of cost per glass.   I tried two other cups of coffee that were $2.50 each.  Actually, from that first cup of coffee on, the whole night got really expensive.  Anyone been to Dodger stadium lately?  Luckily, we caught it on $11 beer night.  I cheaped out and went with the $6 bottle of water.  Nothing touched our $7 warmish garlic fries.  I still can't figure out how 3  sausages, luke warm garlic fries, one beer, and two bottles of water cost $49.50; but, at least, we got to watch the most boring sport in the world from up high.   By the way, the Dodgers won on an inside the park home run.  That was a first for me.  And the $7.50 coffee, it wasn't that good.  I prefer my roast darker and richer.  At least, I get to say, "I'm the asshole who paid $7.50 for a cup of coffee!"  Can you say that?

Iron Man

A super entertaining film whose story doesn't quite carry all the way until the end, but it is definitely worth seeing for Robert Downey Jr. alone.

Feliz Cinco De Mayo!

I don't know why I keep wishing a Happy 5th of May to people.  Most don't even know what it's about.  They just know that it's the one day that they have to wait an extra long time to get a table at a Mexican restaurant.  I had a friend at MGM who on every Cinco de Mayo got a pint of Guinness and every St. Patrick's Day got a margarita, the old switcheroo.  I've never been one for these amateur nights.  These nights include, but aren't limited to: St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo, Halloween, and New Year's Eve.  Now I have made an exception over the last few years for St. Patrick's Day, but I never said I was perfect.  For those who aren't clear on what amateur nights are; here's a little lesson.  Professionals go out Monday through Thursday, Friday and Saturday are for Bridge and Tunnelers, Sunday is the Lord's day (that's the goyisha Lord, mind you,) and amateur night is for everyone.  It usually consists of a higher than average number of people who can't hold down their liquor, so on these nights, the streets will flow with vomit.  For those of you who are going to take up the cause of Cinco de Mayo, I wish you the best of luck.  I highly recommend that prior to your tequila soaked frenzy you eat something of substance, a burrito perhaps.  Also, if anyone asks, today is not about Mexican independence.  It's about the Mexican army defeating the French in a town called Pueblo 142 years ago.  Feliz Cinco de Mayo!

Baby Mama Redux

I saw it again.  It was even funnier the second time.  Both Steve Martin and Sigourney Weaver are amazing.  It was easily her funniest role since Aliens 3.  I can't recommend this film enough.