Ow

You know that February is mustache month. In March of this year, I was clean-shaven for a bit, then grew a goatee. By April, I had decided to grow back the entire beard, and by the middle of May, I decided to stop shaving or trimming at all until after the New York State Bar Exam. I looked like this:

Now the Bar Exam is over. Chester A. Arthur looked like this:

Paul Tuetul Sr. looks like this:


Issac from the Love Boat looked like this:


Jason Giambi looked like this:


Now I look like this:


Does anybody else's face hurt, like a lot?

The end of the BufBloPoFo

I started this blog just in time to participate in The Fortnight, and when I click on "Publish Post", I will have done it. 14 posts, in on time, one a day, for two weeks. Dang. Back in the Heyday of the dhka, I never remember hitting it this hard, that was two or three articles in a week. And there was rust on the old melon-jelly (I just made that up. It means "brain".), but somehow I shook out several hundreds words. Yea for me and yea for everyone else who successfully participated. Meh for those who were less than successful. Bladdily-boo to those who didn't even try. Mackely-frap-kanoob to those who still don't know what the BufBloPoFo is.

Since I didn't have a blog a year ago, I'll just write myself a few notes to be answered a year from now:

Did you pass the bar yet, dummy?
Did you get a job yet, lazy?
Did you buy a house yet, house-less guy?
Do you have dependable transportation?
What was your favorite car?
Are you still keeping in touch with your friends thru the blogosphere?
Do you ever socialize with anyone in person?
What's your favorite planet?
Are you still brewing your own beer?
Do you have a business model in place yet to start selling it?
Do you still want to own a bar?
How much do you weigh?
Does Zeppelin still rule?

Alright, that should serve as a good follow up to this year's Fortnight and be a nice place to work from next year. Congrats to all those who stuck it all the way out. I may not have read every word of every person's blog, but I recognize what a challenge it was, and I salute you.

For those who were just spectators this year, remember: once mustache month rolls around, it's time to start thinking of the BufBloPoFo. I recommend you stop blogging in mid February, and save up all of your good ideas. Otherwise the content starts looking a little thin round the tenth.

Cheers to Garvey for initiating it all, and for following through despite two beautiful baby reasons to ignore his computer. If you ever leave your house and I ever get a job, I'll buy you a beer.

The infernal boob tube

I don't watch a whole lot of tv. I have 800 channels with the DirecTV, which is awesome. I highly recommend DirecTV. But the shows I watch tend to be those which do not require writers. I do like House, MD and the girlfriend likes Bones, so we watch that. But I'm mostly watching Food Network, Discovery Channel, History Channel, Comedy Central. The staples are Good Eats, Diners, Drive-Ins and Drives, Iron Chef, Mythbusters, The Universe, or anything about the amazing human body, bigfoot, or most shows with the potential for boobies. I also watch a lot of sports and sports-themed programs like SportCenter, PTI and Around the Horn. I don't think there's enough in my television efforts to make a whole post here.

According to this trend, the final BufBoPoFo post will be three sentences. There should be a big celebration of the BufBoPoFo. This weekend, why don't we all get together. We should have a parade. Your thoughts?

Apologies for the quickie

You'll excuse my brevity, I'm between calling hours and a wake, but wanted to be sure to fulfill my BufBoPoFo obligations.

Many people probably don't know that I had a series of recurring sleep-robbing nightmares about alien abduction which did not stop until I started telling people about them. I am scared of the dark, but I wear a slumber mask when I sleep. I am kind of shy, which is most of the reason I am a dick to you the first time I meet you. I have no idea how I will cope when my dog dies. I rarely get hung over, and I can always drink the next day. I am a good cook, and a great baker - even if Alex doesn't give me a certificate therefore. I don't know if I want to be a lawyer. I don't like to brush my teeth, and only do it two or three times a week. I'm embarrassed by my weight, and genuinely hope to bring it down. "The moment if truth" is on in my house.

Most people know: I'm happiest on stage; I like to drink; Poopy smells like poopy; and there ain't no party like a west coast party.

See you tomorrow - two more posts, bitches!

You ask, I bindly follow

1. What is your favorite word? What is your least favorite word?

Would you believe I’ve never thought about that? I sure do like “fuck”. It’s so versatile. I love “yes”. I love hearing it in intimate moments. I like “awesome”, especially when folks use it literally, like Alex is sometime wont to do. But my favorite it probably “boobs”, for obvious reasons. My least favorite is either “no”, (see above, and extrapolate) or “moist” which just sounds creepy.

2. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? What turns you off?

Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana always gets me going, and NO not just O Fortuna, the whole thing, especially In Taberna and the shit from the duck’s point of view. I do not like being told to figure something out. Nothing stops the creative juices like being told that I am creative and should just do something creative.

3. What sound or noise do you love? What sound or noise do you hate?

I like percussion, especially when rocked out by John Bonham. While I don’t hate it, female vocal soloists usually make my eyes water, and sometimes make me cry.

4. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? What profession would you not like to do?

I’d love to teach. I wouldn’t love cleaning up vomit or excrement.

5. What is your favorite curse word?

“Fuck”, although I like “douche" a lot but that isn’t really a curse word.

6. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

“Don’t worry, I thought all that stuff was funny, too.”

What kind of a sick world are we living in?

There are people in the public eye who expect a certain level of professionalism from their prostitutes. I feel bad for the soon to be former governor. Although as far as most people know I am not personally into any borderline dangerous deviant sexual behavior for which I have to pay, I would expect whomever is the purveyor of such a service to keep their fucking mouth shut about it. Of course, I don't know much about His Honor's situation yet, but somebody leaked information, and if you happen to deal in the elicit sex trade, here's a tip: silence is golden. You don't get a seven diamond rating blabbing about who likes to choke you and who likes what excrement on them. Charlie Sheen's name came up during the Heidi Fleiss "scandal". Hugh Grant got caught with his British wiener in some hooker's mouth. Eddie Murphy gave that tranny whore a ride home. You see, people in the public eye are in a difficult position. They are famous enough or have enough power or influence to pick up chicks everywhere. But chicks can't be trusted. You go pork a bunch of broads and you get the HIV or you get sued all over the place or some silly bitch puts a picture of you together on her myspace page. So you finally have the ability to bang mad chicks, and you can't do it. What do you do? You find a high-class hooker. (And that shit is expensive. I never understood paying the Niagara Falls whores forty bucks for a blow job, let alone some broad in a four star hotel three grand. But I've never had an extra three grand. Shit, I've never had an extra forty bucks.) But part of the service that they provide is the confidentiality. Fuck, man. If I can't trust a whore, who can I trust?

So what's your point? Of view?

I am not from Buffalo. This gets confusing, you see, because when I'm out-of-town and someone asks me where I'm from, I say, "Buffalo". I live in Buffalo. I am one of the few people who moved into this city. All the rest of the movement seems to be in the opposite direction. There are several of us in this little blog ring who came to Buffalo to go to college and stayed here to live. This affords us a different perspective from you "townies". I may think of local locales differently.

To give you an idea, when friends of mine from out of town comes to visit, the places I would take them might differ from the places some of you might take your peeps. Sure, I go to the Anchor Bar, but usually that's the first day if possible. We go there to get drunk and do most of our reminiscing - the chicken wings are secondary or, perhaps more correctly: tertiary. And I make it a point to take visitors to Duff's. Anchor Bar may be the original, but that doesn't necessarily make it the best. I think Duff's has Buffalo's best chicken wing, and that's saying something. Also, you Buffalo people have no idea of how lucky you are to have so many great breakfast restaurants. I've never been to a city with more Greek places (although presumably there are several cities in Greece which might have more). And the Greek are good at two things: naked statues and breakfast. Imagine for a moment my young life, when Denny's was pretty much the only game in town before noon. Pano's or The Olympic is pretty much a lock for out-of-towners. Also, beer is awesome, which leads to a trip either to the Pizza Plant or Pearl Street Brewery (or hopefully both). The Buffalo Brew Pub is also good, but to me, Pizza Plant has the best fancy beer selection in town. (Sidebar, bitches: Cleveland is a super-fun town and home to a regional chain called The Winkin' Lizard which rocks out about 100 different fancy beers. Awesome.) The rest of the itinerary usually centers around things which many Buffalonians take for granted, something like The Falls, The Zoo or Shakespeare in the Park.

I like this town, and I'm proud to call it my home. The weather is no where near as bad as people outside of Western New York think it is, and there is a great theater and cultural community. Too bad we can't transplant the Steelers up here.