Swine is Fine but Whisky's Quicker.....

Ha Choooooo! Practically a death sentence.... Those of you that know me well, can only imagine the shit running through my head when I heard Pandemic! Arrrghhhh! My therapist will need to work overtime on this one.

Doom and Gloom are the flavor of the day.... Financial collapse, credit crunch, housing crisis and now the fucking PIG FLU! Now... being a pig myself, I am quite concerned. Swine runs in my genes...

The minute the news even HINTS at a crisis, I am convinced that I will be at the epicentre of all that is unholy. Hearken back to the days of Sky Lab in the late 70's... This satellite thingy was hurtling towards Earth... a very large planet made up of mostly water.... However, I was not only convinced it would hit Harrison, NY... it would crack me square in the skull and kill me instantly. Now, my Mother should have noticed the paranoia back then but NOOOOOOOO - she just let it blossom into the full blown insanity that is my life.

To put things into perspective.... The movie the Swarm - they were coming straight for me.

The birds..... them too. I still flinch every time I see one of those fucking flocks heading South and think they are attacking!

Exploding Pintos - yup that was my destiny.

Locusts...... need I go on?

On 9/11 I was convinced my one bedroom apartment on Post Place was the next Al Qaeda target - screw the Pentagon - I was ground zero!

So, Imagine the latest with the banks collapsing and the swines attacking... One person sneezed at the club the other night and I dove for cover nearly knocking down 3 old ladies and a blind nun with cancer...... CANCER! Now that's a fear for another day...

I am now bathing in Purell. Which is all for naught since the hotel I am staying at is a hot bed for disease complete with foot odor (not belonging to me)... It's a Marriott! WTF!

Now that the swine flu is subsiding, I will need to find new ways of torturing myself as I cannot be at peace for a second without having to find some other means of death and destruction that will CLEARLY be unleashed on me. Perhaps a meteor screaming towards Providence or just a general plague.... You choose.

So... I am in Albany. Scenic Albany.... I was nearly mugged at the Pick and Pay - but I arrived safely at the Marriott after a near incident at the Starbucks when Mr. Barista Man sneered at me and was rude! Does he not know that I speak Starbuckian? I asked for a toasted bagel and you would think I asked him to clean the toilets with his tongue. The look of disgust. I got even, of course, by unscrewing ALL of the milk carafe lids and the condiment shakers so the next person would create a disaster! HA! That'll learn him....

I am here for a bunch of meetings with Congressmen and women about calorie-posting legislation on menu boards in food service establishments. Apparently, I am representing not only my company but the movie theatre industry as a whole. Again - for those that know me, you may feel the need to combust in laughter right now - but do read on.....

Calories - let's see.... Send the guy who used to be 400+ pounds to talk about healthy eating.... Then - set up a bunch of meetings with politicians..... Yup, send me! The same guy who once dove into a frozen swimming pool just to make snow angels in Lake Placid. Diving board and all... Yeah, I AM THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE!

But, I will put on my greatest bullshit face (you know the one)... and I will once again be victorious! Then - a meteor will strike my car on the 4-hour drive home..... You see? Not stable.

I heard from an old friend today (Bob) who happens to live in Albany. He sent me a FB message seconds after I called Albany a shithole. Quite the ice breaker since I haven't seen or talked to him in 10+ years... In any event, it was fun to catch up. He was planning a night of drinking and I have to say I came within moments of saying "YES!!!! BRING ON THE BOOZE" but we all know how that would end..... a Meteor!

Flashback: Back In The Day.... I was drinking wildly at the Town House and Terri was going to drive me home. I remember saying "Terri - don't take the highway, I'm gonna puke" and puke I did! Every other block I landed in someone's front yard or in the bushes losing my lunch along with the quart of Tequila I had downed earlier that night. Her and Trish (yes, Evil Trish) were trying to pick me up out of the gutter. HA! Pick me up! Them and what army? After they finished laughing, they got me into the car and continued to my house. As I got out of the car and said "goodnight" (more like a grunt and a slur)... I started to walk. Then weave... Then run to try to catch up with my body that was falling forward. As I swerved wildly around the yard, Terri yelled from the car "Pat! Watch out for the oil pipe!" See, there was this oil pipe that stuck up in the front yard. Now, chances are I would have veered around it.... But because Terri's yelp seemed urgent, I quickly turned left and ran face first through my neighbors bushes, tumbling down a hill and landing on something white and small... (minds out of the gutter please)....

Terri and E.Trish came to my rescue once I cried out "Terri... Help Me!!!" When they arrived in the ravine, I was whining "I killed the kitty!" while petting the small, white thing I had landed on. "Terri! The poooor kitty!!!!' I cried out.... She kicked me and said "Pat, you ass! It's a lawn Leprechaun. Go to bed."

I would have - except I was now locked out of the house. Living on the first floor, I saw a window of opportunity... or just a window. I thought (not very clearly) that I would climb in the window and snuggle up in bed. I opened the window from the outside and CRASH! The air conditioner fell out of the window on my legs! Ouchee! Found it on the lawn the next day.

Looking for a "Plan B" I quickly (but not rationally) decided that I would just push the door down. 400+ pounds of running flesh - and CRASH - the door comes clean off of the hinges. Ahhh. I was home.

Again - probably best that I did not go out drinking with Bob.

Today is Tush's Birthday!!! Yay!

Well, I am off to dinner with the calorie people.... Funny - a meeting about health and combating obesity and the best plan they can conjure up is dinner???? Maybe racquetball would have been a more P.C. choice..... but who the fuck plays racquetball...?

Death to the Taliban! Peace!

Creative Constipation

Is been two weeks since I "dropped a blog" and MAN does my tummy hurt. Thanks to a good dose of cyber-Metamucil, things are now flowing smoothly and I can continue to "fire off" some random crap to keep myself (and hopefully others) chuckling. Of course this comes at the expense of others.... so beware.

It amazes me how many people have chimed in with other "Ruth-related Atrocities" most of which I have either forgotten or blocked out thanks to the hard work of my therapist, Dr. Feelgood. Many have asked "What ever became of Ruth?" I am not quite certain but I imagine she is contributing positively to the community in some fashion either as a counselor at Big Brothers and Sisters or just giving blow jobs for money. In either case, I will not REST until I find my dear Ruth! and.... she really does exist.

Here's the latest on the work front. Seems my office may be about to implode - so the days of my illustrious career in over-priced snacks may be limited. However, I am going to hang on with every glimmer of hope that the Pretzel Nuggets will prevail and the Phosphorescent Orange Nacho Cheese will continue to flow (ever so slowly) through the veins of others so I can keep doing what I do. I mean, honestly, what else would I possibly be good at? It's either this or curing polio- and I really like those nachos! Such tough choices.

I suspect a Facebook "mole" that is fueling some crap at work - so with that, I have devised a plan to orchestrate a crazy (Ruth-like) story - complete with drama, scandal and despair with the hopes of having it spread throughout the office like a scorching case of herpes - thus flushing out the "mole." I could then spend my remaining days torturing them in subtle ways like gluing down the receiver on their office phone, removing one wheel on their chair or perhaps subscribing them to "Chicks with Dicks" magazine and having it hand-delivered by a messenger with Turrets Syndrome right to their desk. These are just a few subtleties that I have perfected over the years. If these fail, it'll be time for some hardball.

Again - LET THE GAMES BEGIN.


I have fallen off the proverbial wagon...... (no I am not hitting the sauce - it's worse than that).... I am back on the potatoes! That's right - those starchy little tidbits have lured me back into their twisted web - calling out "EAT ME" louder than a lonely Vegas hooker with Chlamydia! Lent is over and Sweet Potato Fries have replaced Tic Tacs as my #1 meal choice. One would think that a VEGETABLE! That's right a fucking VEGETABLE would not be my biggest foe. My Mom has held that position for years and is now at risk of being dethroned for some sugary brown treat and I do NOT mean Starr Jones (although I want to tear that up - lol!)!

I can honestly say that I have a problem. I would not recommend any attempt at an intervention, however, as in a moment of sheer desperation, I would secretly cook up those sinister Idaho "devils" with a crack spoon using stolen cash from an orphanage full of cancer kids.

I was reminded recently (thanks to Ilene) of my time as a bookkeeper and front end manager at a supermarket in NY. Ilene and I used to get into quite a bit of trouble making fun of customers and doing crazy things after a night of heavy drinking at the Westchester County Fair. We would run through the aisles dropping tampons and Vagisil in peoples carts and screaming loudly for a price check on Wart Cream on register 9 - just for entertainment value. There were nights when I'd be working until closing. Me and some guy (Dave??) would fling cans of food over the top of the aisle into the next - eagerly awaiting a "thud" and a scream when it knocked someone in the skull. True humanitarians. I would pack the groceries of "mean" people with the bread on the bottom and tip the dozen eggs spilling them loosely into the bag. I guess my interpretation of "mean" was a bit warped considering the chaos I was unleashing on others.

Well, it seems that one day out of sheer boredom, we decided to reprogram the registers and watch through the one-way mirrored window as guests eyeballed the display and "SHITBALLS.... $1.99/lb." appeared when they rang up Bananas. It got us both transferred or demoted or both - but it was well worth it.

The store I ended up in had some crazy girl Dolores that worked as a cashier. She was about a foot and a half tall with psoriasis, stringy hair that seemed to be falling out and she was wall-eyed. Other than that, she was hot.

I used to call her Clitoris (rhyming it with Dolores) and made her wear name tags that read just that. She'd say.... "Pat.... My name tag is misspelled again!!..." I insisted that she check the spelling on her application as there was NO way the name tag machine could be wrong.

I used to draw Satanic stick figures all over her time card - a gift from a secret admirer - and cut out magazine letters leaving delusional notes from her "stalker." I guess she was the first Ruth. Actually - I think it was some old lady Gladys at the Harrison Library and Mrs. Lumbo who lived across from the school - but that story will take some time to tell.

I am having a good time working at the comedy club on the weekends. Who woulda thunk it? Humor? Me? I am so straight-laced and serious all the time. Pardon me as I scratch my balls.... ahhhhhh..... Okay I'm back...

Like I said... Serious as the day is long.... My years of being an altar boy have paid off. Although my lingering self esteem issues still make me question.... Why didn't those priests diddle ME? Was I not cute enough? ... --- pathetic sad face inserted here :( --- Rejection at ALL levels. How rude.

I guess even back then my self image was a bit off kilter prompting me to ask... "Father, does this robe make my butt look fat?"

Issues..... Thanks Ma!

Gotta get crack-a-lackin'... Peace!

There Once Was A Girl.... Her Name Was Ruth!

Before I explain the Ruth thing, I really must preface the story by saying:



"I was really drunk one night and...."



It's not what you may be thinking - this is clearly not some hot, passionate romance story - quite the opposite, in fact. Being tortured as a kid, I was schooled in the art of taking advantage of someone's vulnerabilities and preying on those very qualities for personal amusement. Now, this may seem shallow and mean - but by the end of the story - you'll be singing right along with me.... "I once knew a girl, her name was Ruth ........"



It all starts at the Town House II - a local dive bar full of the usual suspects (many of whom are reading this right now - provided there are not too many big words). The first Town House burned to the ground. Hence the II - (the use of authentic Roman numerals was quite significant - being suburban NY and all.)



Again - my childhood was a ridiculously hateful experience. But all of the tactics those sinister neighborhood kids and terroristic schoolmates applied to torturing me, we're quickly bottled up and stored for a rainy day.



All of this mean-spirited energy was well-harnessed and under control - until I discovered tequila shooters and Budweiser. Let the games begin...



Rather than unleash a postal barrage of hate, I decided to spin the energy around and find entertaining ways to make people laugh - however, it was usually at the expense of some unsuspecting victim. Enter RUTH!



I could not start a good Ruth story without first introducing the supporting cast. There was Liz - my "sister" and the bartender from the dive bar. Liz watched nightly as I prepared to pounce on some poor victim and she quickly knew her role. She was a master of her art!



Then, there are Beulah (aka Lisa), Harriott (aka Julie) and Freeta (aka Trish - not "good Trish", the other one) - sorry Freeta - needed to paint the picture....



Beulah and Harriott were my "lesbian" friends that - on command - would spring into action trying feverishly to get Ruth to "join their team." The stories quite often surrounded Beulah and Harriot who deserve Oscars for their performances - although I would have preferred a little hot tongue action to make it "real.." Team-players, all, this cast of characters set the stage for our introduction to a "friend of a friend" who just moved to the area.



John was Liz's husband. An old high-school friend of John's was coming to the bar to be introduced to some "nice" local people who could help acclimate her to the area. John had the crazy idea that we were that bunch. In hindsight, I am sure he would choose a more compassionate group - such as White Supremacists or Animal Torturers.



The nightly stories began.... the very first - an attempted suicide. I was a bit bored and looking to prank some poor unsuspecting fool. Lightbulb! I called my E.M.S. friends to bandage up my wrists. The ambulance pulls up to the bar and they practically applied tourniquets to my arms for my first big scene. Quickly - the team springs into action and calls Ruth. Now, Ruth was an unemployed musician at the time and money was very tight as was fueling up her car. What better way to start the festivities by finding creative ways to make her leave her house, drive lots of miles for nothing and run down her gas tank. That sounded like fun.



"Ruth, come quick! Pat has tried to kill himself.....AGAIN! and he keeps calling your name." Wondering why someone she just met would single her out to rescue him from the pit of despair, she shrieks in horror and jumps into her car and drives 40 miles (I carefully time her arrival and continue to drink beers until she is about to pull up) at which time I drop to the floor and start muttering non-sensical babble from my pill overdose and subsequent wrist slashing. She asked what I took and I reach in my pockets flinging tablets all over the room (every thing I could round up including Midol, Flintstones Vitamins and Tart-N-Tiny candies; which oddly resembled a hit of mesc.)



My friends all rallied to my bedside (the booth in the back of the bar) for a death vigil. Beulah and Harriott were there - holding each other for support - of course - and (at my prompting) were singing old Negro Spirituals to help me "go into the light."



Ruth was horrified - but we quickly formed a bond the next day when I called her and told her she was the ONLY reason that I hung on....



Within weeks, Ruth was a regular at the bar. I was now "cured" from my illnesses (although I had to keep my fucking wrists bandaged for months as a prop - that was a pain in the ass). Ruth checked in on me daily and I always found a way to make her get into that car and drive..... miles.... for something totally obscure and ridiculous.



She was in constant touch with my fake "parents" Ray and Natasha. Natasha (I forget her real name, I think it was Jane) was a 60+ woman who was a cashier at the movie theatre. In a pinch, she was cast in the role as Mom - a decision that later was declared a "win."

Ruth and Natasha formed a friendship one evening when a weeping Natasha confided in Ruth that she was ill. Seems Mom had a steel plate in her head. It was not very painful, except every time she walked past the microwave, she shit in her pants and pretended to be King Lear! and .... she never read Shakespeare.

Ruth was always watching out for Natasha - including the time that we dialed Ruth from my office and Natasha started screaming wildly mid-sentence because someone turned on the microwave. Ruth was pleading on the other end "turn it off! turn it off." The call ended with Natasha, in her best Shakespearean voice, proclaiming "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!" Lear (Act I, Scene 4).

The call goes dead! The next day, Natasha shrugs it off by simply moaning "oh - that damn microwave, Ruth!" Ahhhh, good times.

The stories continued for months.

There was "other Liz" who was my "ex-wife" who was now married to Skip. Ruth was amazed that she and I remained friends despite our hideous breakup which included Liz getting a restraining order and throwing me out of our trailer home. Liz once even took the keys to my John Deere mower so I couldn't sneak off to the whore house when she was hard at work at the meth lab. Astounded that Ruth wasn't yet "on to us," we continued the story. Liz and Ruth fast became friends and formed a trust. Enough of a trust for Liz to confide in her why we remained so close after all we had been through. Seems that Liz had a "problem" that only I could help her with. This sparked Ruth's curiosity and she asked Liz to share. A tearful Liz explained to Ruth that the exposure to the chemicals used to cook the meth had caused her to grow an inordinate amount of hair in odd places. Liz explained that I was the only one that could help her "shave her back." She also fessed up that the cost of razors was straining her financially at which point Ruth suggested she'd pitch in and buy a few. Now that's a true friend.

Beulah and Harriott were always the stars of the show. Ruth was soooo understanding of their "lifestyle" as lesbians and confided in them one drunken night that she, too, would like to kiss Harriott. Even Meryl Streep has her theatrical limits - so imagine the answer when I asked B & H to "take care" of Ruth. Hey, a man can try, no?

Everyone - and I mean - EVERYONE called Lisa and Julie - Beulah and Harriott. Even my grandmother. In fact, she asked a few months ago "What ever happened to that nice Beulah girl."

Skip and I once stole Ruth's car from the bar and parked it blocks away - ON the sidewalk - BEHIND A FIRE HYDRANT and she got a wave of tickets when the police "recovered" her stolen vehicle.

That was the same night that Steve blew his nose on her coat.



Ruth played the flute. We once made her do a recital at the bar because we wanted to be cultured. We made sure that one-by-one, people angrily walked out during her performance - but like the band on the deck of the Titanic - she kept playing until the entire ship went down.



She wore perfume called Red Door - but we called it Barn Door. It was awful!

Ruth always wanted to be "part of the crowd." We tried to help her. Kind of like a band-geek makeover. As part of her transformation, we told her that wearing spandex was "in." The whole bar took one for the team, donning their tightest fitting clothes including Gina who was like 500 pounds. We also kept referring to ourselves as Heifers. She was curious - so we told her that a Heifer was a "party animal." Much to my surprise, she called me one morning after a night of partying hard and starts the conversation with; "Pat I was such a heifer last night." My job was done.

Months later, she looked it up in the dictionary and called me angrily. She read me the definition:

Heifer (hĕf́ər)
(n.)
A young cow, especially one that has not yet given birth to a calf..

I quickly explained that she mispelled it and our "HEFFER" was Yiddish. Oi! What a Shiksa!

Then there was the ransom video from Lake Placid. That's a blog of it's own. Ruth had to pony-up money to save me from kidnappers. Too long for today's blog. Stay tuned.

A quick preframe:

The ransom story begins on the ride to a bar-sponsored ski trip. The bus full of barflys on the 4 hour drunken drive - began a bit of a sing-a-long on the drive up - "I once knew a man whose name was...." (yada, yada, yada....) I was passed out from the hours of drinking and missed most of the limerics (until watching the video).

However, being my turn to chime in, they smacked me to a light consciousness, and I rang out in song.... "I once knew a girl, her name was Ruth - who had more gum than she had tooth." Since Ruth's teeth looked like little mini-chicklets, there was a brief silence and then laughter ensued.

Then I threw up all over the bus....

This catchy little tune will likely be trapped in your head for years to come.

There is a clear moral here - NEVER show me your vulnerable side - because you could be the next Ruth!



Peace out Heffers! Moooooooo!

A Good Fart Joke Can Always Save The Day!...

I am still laughing at the wave of email that I got about recent "micalizzi-isms." Basically, you guys seem surprised that - not only have I not grown up - I actually get more immature and infantile with every passing day.

For example, Bernie and I spent 10 minutes on the phone talking fart humor and after the ridiculous jokes subsided and we stopped giggling like school kids - we both asked "who called who and what was the point of this call?" It is clear to me that the best phone calls are ones where you can laugh hard about someone shitting their pants and then move on to more important things - like BOOBIES!

I mean, honestly, what the fuck is the point of being serious when you can simply poke fun of others and cash-in on their misfortune with tasteless humor and shallowness?

But, I digress.... a few have reminded me of drunken stories from year's past that - surprisingly - I remember. Who knew that you guys had such recall of the ridiculous crap that we orchestrated while sipping a beer (or 12.)?

Of course, all of these stories deserve a blog all their own - but a quick mention to whet your appetite.

Laura was kind enough to remind me of the crazy blow-out parties at the house on High Street in Rye. How we weren't arrested, is beyond me. Probably because half the cops were at the party and higher than I was.... The most memorable moment, of course, was the party where the entire third-story patio gave way - plummeting to the ground with my brother tumbling along with the loose railings . 3 stories - onto concrete - on his head! I was doing a beer bong in the living room when Erich comes in and says "can I have a beer? oh.... and by the way - the patio collapsed and I think Billy is dead." After finishing the beer funnel challenge (which I won, of course), I excused myself to attend to my half dead brother who just fell off the house -laying there like a bird that flew into a pane of glass. The ambulance arrives, he comes to a light consciousness just long enough to give me "the finger" and then slipped back into a mild coma.
4 weeks and 1 fractured skull later and STILL in the hospital - we were planning the next party. Ah.... the memories.... Lest we forget the crazy neighbor that used to walk right into our house in the morning snooping around. I'd chase her down the stairs, down the block and back into her house while she screamed in horror and barricaded her door. Fun times, all!

Lynn- I hope you are loving the flashbacks - that house was a train wreck!

And then, there's Beulah! I am saving an ENTIRE blog this weekend just for Beulah, Harriot and Ruth memories.... stay tuned. (sorry Beulah, you'll have to wait another day or two - need to gather all of the evidence and present a compelling case)...

So, another week has passed at work and I have survived yet again. If any of you told me that I'd still work for a freakin' movie theatre company since junior high school - I'd never believe it. Living the dream!!!!! But seriously, we are down to like 2 people and a janitor in the office. I think they may have just forgotten that I am here - and intended to cut me loose years ago...... In fact, the letterhead in my desk now has the janitor's name instead of mine... hmmmm...

My mother calls me yesterday - and - after not working for a FULL year is wondering why her unemployment benefits are running out soon. She is outraged! Career under-achiever.... Maybe Obama can stimulate her package too....

Well, I am off to start my day of Goobers-related issues, then off to the comedy club which I now affectionately call "Shits and Giggles" - then a nightcap of shit-kickin' country music at the club near my house..... All in a day's fun.......

Ciao Bellas!

Explosion of Random

Let's start with Wynonna Judd, shall we? Who thought that putting this women in a diet commercial was a savvy marketing idea? First, no one has seen her for 10 years since her mother was dying for the 15th time. If we do not know just how fat she got, how do we know if the diet works? Who the hell would buy the food that made her look like this? I would avoid this diet at all costs and await her next TV appearance - suspended by cables and floating over the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. At least Valerie Bertinelli used to be hot.... Wynonna? Honestly.....

If people were even remotely interested in the Judds, they should just have that crazy mother sell the drugs she is taking to escape death from leprosy, lupus, lymphoma - what ever the hell else is ailing her.

I suspect the same marketing genius will cast Mickey Rourke in a moisturizing face cream commercial.

Now that I got that off my chest, we can move on..... Still there? Helloooooo?

I want to be a pole dancer!

There - I got you attention. Let's continue.....

Two questions - are Obama's ears getting bigger and wasn't that mole on the other side last week? Holy Moleeeee....

So, about 20 people got axed at work this week. Not me - I still get to continue my career in buttery topping. The whole layoff process was tactful and very well thought out . Nearly half the people took a voluntary layoff - some with 25 - 30 years of service. So, with the severance they made out pretty well. They had weeks to say good bye and pack up their shit. The other half (I refer to them as the reaper victims) were unsuspecting fools. So imagine as these two groups collide in the lobby on the way out. The "volunteers" were practically dancing in the streets having escaped with a pocket full of cash while "the others" weepingly dragged their half-dead office plants and family photos in trash bags to their car despite their bum leg or advanced pregnancy. NICE! Who knew dysfunction had an actual street address.

So... relieved that I wasn't one of the casualties, I decided to celebrate by prank calling people on the drive home. FUN! There is nothing like calling a random stranger saying "I am so sorry, but there's been a terrible accident" and then simulating bad cell reception and disconnecting. It felt good to smile after such a stressful day. Everyone needs a feel-good moment.

Today is my grandmothers birthday. I think she is like 1000 - but she's a cool old broad. Some of you may know her as Nan... (Everyone loves Nan!!!) I tried to call her to wish her a happy b-day but she was working. She's like 84 - and she works like every day of the week. Yet my mother (some of you may know her as "the goiter") is too old and tired to leave the house. Go figure..... We all know where me and Billy get our work ethic from. So, to keep Mom occupied while she sits at home, I call her.... "there's been a terrible accident".... click.....

I think they should make a soup that has pizza bits and red M & M's - but that's just me.

Well, I hope that I have kept you mildly entertained. Me? I just finished my dinner of Cheerios and Red Bull and plan on rounding out this fine spring evening - rubbing one out to the Wynonna commercial on YouTube. Ewwwwww...

- Chip, Chip Cheerio!

The Fish, The Microwave, The Dog and a Cab Ride!

Most of my best stories begin with "I was sooooo drunk last night..." and this one will be no different.

Picture it - Karaoke Night at Players in Mamaroneck. 3 Drunks - a room full of cops and a lonely fish awaiting it's demise later that evening....

It all starts at Arizona Flatz - a cool little bar that was a BIG step up from the other local dive. I used to escape from one bar to go "hoe-ing" at the neighborhood watering hole. I would round up a few of the local barflys and pile them into my car for a quick swerve down the road for a quart of Cosmos and shots of Blackhaus.... mmmm. Blackhaus!

This night, in particular, I was looking to escape and headed to Players for Karaoke with some guy (cant remember his name) that sang country songs (IN NY WHICH IS REALLY FUNNY).... I think it was Dave but its all a blur...

We got to drinking when Bernie and Adam show up. We are whooping it up and some TOOL named Brian started a fight with some 9 foot gorilla names Dennis. This guy could swat me like a fly. Brian pulls the guy's jacket hood and ducks into the bathroom to hide while the AMAZON DENNIS slowwwwllllyyyly turns around and sees me behind him with a shit-eating grin on my face. Now, of course, I had nothing to do with the alleged tugging of his hood - but when a very drunk Pat was asked by KING KONG if he "wanted to go outside and settle things," I looked wayyyyy up at him and said "Well, yes! Yes I do...."

Clearly wasted and about to meet a certain demise, I catch Bernie out of the corner of my eye who now has a cop in a headlock and is punching him violently. Okay - drunk or not - I saw this as something the public would frown upon (not to mention the GAGGLE of drunk cops who were in the room after a softball game).

I quickly ducked from SASQUATCH DENNIS and tried to pry Bernie off of Mr. Policeman. No such luck. Little did I know that Bernie's friend Adam was now on the floor getting his ass KICKED!

After we were all ejected, a very angry Adam picked me up and threw me into a pile of snow IN TRAFFIC while I tried to drunkenly explain to the police that Brian started it all. "What Brian?" you ask? He was still cowering in the men's room - probably in need of a diaper change when the whole bar cleared out onto the sidewalk.

What does this have to do with the fish??? I asked myself the same thing a minute ago - but had fun typing up to this point regardless. Deal with it and be patient, fuckers!

I lived in an apartment on the 5th floor of a building in New Rochelle. After driving to the diner on two wheels, eating EVERYTHING that wasn't nailed down, we all went back to my place. Bernie, Terri, evil Brian and a very beat up Adam whose head was swollen bigger than a Mongoloid Kid in those "Save the Children" infomercials.

A drunken Terri nursed Adam (who she hated) back to health..... hmmm. Very curious except earlier that night someone fessed up that Adam was hung and suddenly Terri becomes Florence Nightingale. (I am on to you Terri)....

I decided that I needed to lighten the mood - so I grabbed a live fish from my fish tank..... I said, in my finest English accent "Ello Wanda" and ate the fish..... After a minute, I spit it out directly at Bernie claiming "It's not ripe yet...." He suggested I heat it up at which point I nuke it - stink up the entire apartment and proceed to drop the boiling bowl of steaming guppy right out of the 5th floor window into a small crowd gathering in the parking lot below.

Elena - hope that fish tank is doing well.....

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Flashback a few years to 1990 or so at "Over The Bridge" in Rye. I had given up booze for Lent or Arbor Day or some major holiday - but did not rule out getting COMPLETELY ZOOTED on some really good weed. Now, being about 400 pounds at the time, I was not very limber. BUT I THOUGHT I WAS..... Much to the surprise of the Collie who I squatted down to pet, lost my balance and fell RIGHT on the dog... Too fat and laughing too hard to get up, I just repeatedly proclaimed "I Killed Lassie!!!"

After dragging the dog to a nearby car tire (to make it look like an accident.....) I was back in the bar drinking like a fish despite the Lenten sacrifice. Two days later, I am taking a cab to work and the cabbie is looking at me in the rear view for the entire ride. I finally snap and say "Dude, What the Fuck?" at which point he apologizes and humbly asked "Aren't you that guy that fell on the dog at OTB?" Oi Vei....

Now for you PETA members, never you fear. Lassie was fine. Much to my shock, he appeared in the bar the next time I was there and I spit beer clear out of my nose thinking I'd seen a canine ghost....

So, there are my two pet stories to keep you entertained. I am thinking of a career change - maybe a vet or director of an animal shelter.....


10-4; Over and Out!

Another Day, Another Dollar.....

I am somewhat thankful for not being fired today. I mean, honestly, what would I do if I didn't have to work tomorrow? Perhaps a career as a GQ model (in the Braille edition, of course)...

They could NEVER get rid of me... After all, what would Popcorn be without the PatMan? I AM CORN!!!!!!!!! That didn't quite have the same impact I imagined once I screamed it out loud.

Regardless... another day, another dollar. I am looking forward to the weekend. Friday and Saturday night at the Comedy Club in Warwick is always good for a "pick me up." It will make me forget that my house is worth about as much as a pack of gum and that my 401-k is now a 101-k.

Makes me long for the days that I recklessly spent every dollar I made on booze and whores! Just kidding - it was every other dollar. I just had a total flashback to Sue's Rendezvous in Mount Vernon listening to Samantha Fox and rolling up dollar bills if you know what I mean. Ahhh... the 80's were fun. Wish I had the slightest clue what the 90's were all about - but I was completely wasted for much of them. I hear they were fun. Anyone care to share a story?

I just had this horrible vision of getting canned and having to move in with my Mother. Now, for those of you that have met her (or seen her photo on the Quaker Oats box) - you will agree that chewing broken glass would be a more pleasurable experience. I'd sooner live in a shoe!

On a completely random note, I encountered a total HOTTIE in the office today but failed to make a good impression when I tripped up the stairs flinging my piping hot Starbucks at innocent bystanders. I do know how to make an "grande" entrance - but burn cream is a bit over the top - even for me. Sorry all!

It's incidents like this one that makes it very clear why I do not get laid! I need to carry Personal Injury Insurance.


..................... Excuse me............................ (I just ripped one and felt it necessary to be polite.)

That's all from me...... Seacrest Out!