Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
I'm in private practice as a Die Hahd Red Sox Fan without a degree from Green Monster University because I was "home schooled" by Mom and Dad as in: basically brought up in Fenway Park. For those who were not, and want to understand the beast which is essentially a Masshole, Wasif provides a comprehensive course load in Bosox Fandom at Green Monster U which includes Biology (Massholes+booze), Philsophy(Plato asked, "What is pain?" a Red Sox fan knows), Religion (Soxism), Literature (includes Stephen King--die hahd Sox fan), and Government (Red Sox Nation). There's also a section called Ask the Valedictorian (where students can learn from the best and brightest), a Glossary of Terms, and of course, a Practice Exam. This is school, afterall.
This book makes a great gift idea for the following:
- Red Sox fans.
- Red Sox fans with short attention spans who shy away from long book type products.
- Red Sox fans who spend a lot of time in the john.
- Friends of Red Sox Fans who wish to understand.
Green Monster University is a great school-in-a-book: informative, irreverent and funny, and Andy Wasif clearly isn't afraid to explore what makes a Red Sox fan a Red Sox Fan, wahts (warts) and all. Go Sox!!!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008 ~Fleet Week ship arriving in NYC
World Financial Center and the Hudson River lookin' West towoids 'Joisey
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
I ran downstairs to the basement and out the backdoor to the courtyard which is encircled by adjacent apartment buildings, and there was a huge fat grey cat with one ear sitting near the garbage shed. I sighed with relief: not my cat. "King" has one ear and is SO friendly, he would have let me take him anywhere. Obviously an abandoned house cat to be so sociable. Then I noticed another kitty inside the garbage shed itself---a Doodle look-a-like--and that one, King's "girlfriend" (it turned out later that Girlfriend had balls), was what you'd call a loner, a classic stray cat who was not interested in being friends with me. But he was friends with King, and these two have been bopping around together like feline hobos for a few weeks, so I've been feeding them with the hopes of getting one or both of them off of the street and into a shelter.
I haven't seen King in over a week, but when I'd go to refill the food and water bowls late at night, I'd see Girlfriend sitting on a high wall, checking me out in the dark. I saw him the night before last. This morning, the doorman broke the news to me that a cat was found dead on the sidewalk in front of my building. He was hit by a car sometime before dawn. "What cat? Striped or grey?"
"I don't know," said Khalid. "He's in a double garbage bag in the courtyard right now."
I ran downstairs and opened the first bag. Then the second. I peered inside.
It was Girlfriend.
PS Please click here to feed an animal in need (it's free) in Girlfriend's memory.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
- Jordan Sparks was underwhelming at best. And, well, the gold paper flared-skirt dress was probably not the best choice for the husky daughter of a former NFL cornerback.
- Carrie Underwood sang a song about being a drunken slut who cheats on her husband called "Last Name" as in, "I was dancing at a club drunk with a drunk dude whose last name I don't know who drunk-drove us back to his place, and luckily I lived to sing about it with the only deleterious effect being a massive hangover and possibly life-ending VD and / or pregnancy and wait, I don't even know my last name." Great message for the kids. Her frock was a form of white tuxedo mini-dress which she wore with a sort of sheer chiffon wrappy white thing which was attached at the wrists and hung behind her like an errant piece of chewed up toilet paper. (update: the Go Fug Yourself Girls also think her dress looked like t.p. which means, I have my finger on the pulse, yo. The toilet paper pulse.)
- Then there was an ad for a new FOX series starring a hot blonde and non-descript dude running around encountering terrible bio disasters happening in the world created by mischievous terrorists including some sort of burned up and destroyed airplane, its passengers exploded inside, rendering the windows splattered with blood product. Tune in!
- Next, the Idol Top 10 strutted their Brady Bunch song and dance shiz to some classic George Michael, trying to prove one last time in front of the Idol audience that perhaps that they shouldn't have been voted off in the first place. Bonk!
- Surprise guest George Michael "graced" the stage with a horrendous, never-ending song which never got off the ground, made me squirm in my seat, and made me embarrassed, ashamed, for him, me, my generation, his generation, his mother, my mother, her generation, the people of the world, and baby animals. Old! Scary! Hard living? Too much getting trashed? Too much picking trash? Something worse? Man. The kids in the front row were no doubt thinking to themselves, this fragile, creepy geezer in sunglasses and Botox is the same dude who sang the zippy songs we just heard (Faith, Father Figure)? OMG! TMTH! Ewww! Afterwards, Ryan Seacrest came out onstage with, "George Michael everybody! First tour in 17 years!" No shit! Are we sure it's not 70 years? Of course, Paula was standing, clapping like a seal, and sobbing her face off during the "moving" lyrics of his non-descript shitshow song. Clearly she was hammered. Trashed. Then George Michael made it even more awkward for himself by apologizing for his cold. Ouch. Ouch! OUCHERS!
- Finally, the finale---the judges gave a few final remarks about the exciting ride that was Season 7. Randy said something about dawgs, Paula said something stupid, and Simon apologized for being hard on David Cook the night prior and possibly swinging the vote out (or in?) his favor. And there the two Davids stood, with the giant egg-headed David Cook with his arm around the tiny David Archuleta, as Ryan Seacrest read the results. I was rooting for David Cook (though I didn't vote. Unpatriotic? Perhaps but in a free country you don't have to pay to vote via 866 numbers), and I thought David Archuleta had it sewn up. So did David Cook apparently, because when he won, he started bawling with his giant egg head in his hands, all "I need a minute to compose myself" style which annoyed me to no end, of course, as it would. Boys wearing eyeliner aren't allowed to cry. All I could do was shout, STOP CRYING! STOP CRYING! STOP CRYING!
- The emotional rollercoaster peaked with the crowd on its feet for the rainbow and unicorn rousing "Time of My Life," --David Cook's first recorded single as American Idol 2008 Winner-- which he sang effortlessly once he stopped crying.
- The crowd remained on their feet and sobbing with joy as David Cook worked the stage with great eyeliner-eye contact to his mother and family and an ear-t0-ear smile, beaming with victory and pride, sitting on top of the world as the confetti was released from the heavens. At that moment, a large part of me wanted a huge rock to drop on him.
- David Cook's brother, who is unfortunately, tragically terminally ill with cancer, cried and clapped and looked into the camera with a heartfelt and teary "That's my brother!" as David finished his song right before the credits rolled, and I thought to myself, wouldn't it be a serious emotion topper if at this very moment, a huge rock dropped on him too?
- Then FOX 5 News immediately announced that they were giving me an All Access Pass to Everything Idol, and had some broad on the red carpet promising the first interview with David Cook as he came outside. But then there was real news to report, such as a crazy looking drug addict purse snatcher who is grabbing ladies' purses on the subway, so the All Access Pass, featuring live footage of dumpy civilian twats with American Idol tickets (but no life) who crowded behind the velvet ropes went to Idol Cam--a small square in the bottom left hand side of the television. But it and the American Idol Crawl (on the bottom of the screen) really did block the details about what was happening with the wild-eyed purse snatcher, so...I expect my shit to be ripped off any day now in a violent struggle which may end with my face cut from ear to ear.
- And this, folks, was your Two Can Anne American Idol Wrap Up. Now you may watch your tiVo to check my accuracy.
PS Don't feel sorry for David Cook for being born with an enormous egghead. It's not his fault. And, he's going to be a mazllionaire which will afford him the zillion brooms he'll need to buy in which to beat off all of the vageeny which will be thrown at him now that he's the next President of the United States. All Hail the Chief.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
By Steve Hargreaves, CNNmoney.com
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Tom and Jerry Bar, 288 Elizabeth Street, NYC
Thursday, May 15, 2008
This chick to my left (yes, she was a chick) smelled like an ashtray. Not a new ashtray filled to the brim with 65 cigarette butts, but more like an older ashtray, one the size and smell of a car or hotel room --with no windows -- that was smoked in for 65 years. Or a sofa. A smoky old plaid sofa in a someone's--perhaps a distant relative's-- living room with wood paneling I must have had the misfortune of visiting somewhere, sometime in my youth. Everytime Smoky Old Plaid Sofa moved in her seat, a whiff of stale smoke came off of her in a thick cloud, something like Pigpen.
Here's Smoky Old Plaid Sofa's Girlfriend with the denim hoodie. They were sitting on the end, super into the game and so ornery when anyone wanted to get out of the row that we resorted to climbing either down or up over the seats. I had a skirt, boots, and a buzz on, and yet, climbing over the seats was just easier all around.
Here's the reaction of the dude behind me as Aaron Heilman gave up the Vargas lead in the 7th. Multiply this reaction times all of Shea and that's what it sounded like. This dude told me that he loves to yell at the top of his lungs when he's at the games because when he's watching at home his wife doesn't care for it too much. Needless to say, not long after this, the Mets lost. But I won. How is that? Well, I had a dollar bet with this very dude that Carlos Beltran had his enormous chocolate chip-sized mole removed sometime in 2007. His buddy was able to prove me right by a call home to his own wife and a little thing called Tivo where she was able to rewind to Beltran's last at bat. Mole? Missing. Anne? Victorious.
Here's a shot of my friend Julia cheering my victory.
On our way to the subway and another shot of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda in the future home of the '09 Mets. Sure, the Mets lost, but as a Red Sox fan, I couldn't care less--just a fan of baseball. And if I don't get back to Shea before it's razed for a parking lot, at least I'll have fond memories---of my enjoyable evening and $1 win from a razed chocolate chip-sized mole.