The Great Escape

So, I've been sort of fascinated by this news article I read earlier this week. A 3-yr-old boy in Queens ended up on the #7 train by himself, when someone finally took notice and he was reunited with his mother a short time later. Now, here's what I find interesting...

According to police, the boy got separated from his mother at a McDonald's, walked out the doors and down the street to the subway entrance, took a very long escalator down into the station, bypassed the turnstile, awaited the #7 to arrive, boarded the train, and sat down - perhaps trying to blend as best he could. Yes, I'm sure this was a horrifying experience for the child's mother, but with that said I couldn't help but picture Stewie from "Family Guy". I'm guessing the boy (Let's call him... Louie) had just about enough of those vile McDonald's Kiddie Meals and thought, "You know what mom... fuck this, I'm leaving." Maybe it was that last McNugget that just pushed little Louie over the edge. I believe the actual account of the events went something like this:

Louie stares down that final greasy McNugget and he's had it. He leaves the restaurant and takes to the street.

Louie strolls down the street unnoticed, passing strangers at the fish markets, perhaps the occasional whiff of street urine, and boards the long narrow escalator into the subway station, flanked by businessmen not noticing the diminutive little toddler in between them. Louie approaches the subway turnstiles realizing he's... well, 3. He can't conceivably purchase a Metrocard, but "AHA!" He's the perfect height to bypass the turnstile without getting a giant steel bar painfully slammed into his crotch.

He waits to make his great escape and the 7 train rolls up. Louie runs under the turnstile, sprints through the train doors, takes a seat and hopes for the best. Poor kid. He was so close. Perhaps he could have found someone nice enough to at least make him a decent meal before returning him home to his family with the consistently poor food choices.

Ahh well, Louie.. if you're reading this, (which is entirely plausible of course, considering you were smart enough to bypass security and board mass transit headed for the big city), you got a few years left with the woman. Stick it out. Hell, there may even be some Taco Bell in it for ya!

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/nyregion/18child.html?_r=1

The Booze Whisperer

So I'm at home yesterday, off from work, watching tv and sitting on my ass (margarita in-hand) when I come across that diminutive little man Caesar Milan, The Dog Whisperer. Now, I've never seen the show, wouldn't even know what channel I was watching, but remembered that one of my new projects at work is to design packaging concepts for a new line of products that The Dog Whisperer himself has decided to endorse and market as his own. Big fun, right? No. Now I've seen crazy. I've looked crazy in the face. Hell, I grew up in a family full of crazy, but this woman was a piece of work. Her name? One Jennifer Pryor - Richard Pryor's widow. She was on the show because she runs a dog rescue program out of her enormous house, and can't control ANY of the friggin' animals that inhabit it. Here's a little excerpt:

"I love animals. Richard loved animals. These dogs gave me something I could never get from ALL the men I've had, from shopping on Rodeo Drive, from Cocaine..."

Let's stop there. As if it's not bad enough that your on television telling the world you live in a multi-million dollar home, have about 10 dogs, and let them basically beat the shit out of you and run your household, your dredging up all of this crap? She even stated to Caesar Milan that she was "grateful that the universe sent him to her."

I immediately poured myself another drink to be able to endure the rest of this episode, and Jennifer's crazy ethereal fucked up hippie-talk that had me extremely close to doing Patrón shots in my underwear... alone. For those of you who haven't seen the show, Milan has a series of techniques he uses to get these animals to submit and realize that at 5'1", this little mexican man was about to put these bitches in their place! (Heh, heh, they're dogs... bitches.) Anyway, by the end of the episode, Milan had these dogs on tread mills, playing with dogs they would have normally mauled, and had the pitbull waiting at the foot of the bed to be granted permission to lay on the bed next to Jennifer. Giving credit where credit's due, Caesar Milan is amazing. The problem? These dog owners that insist on keeping an animal who has no problem tearing their fucking hands off when they go to show any kind of affection or come anywhere near them at feeding time. It's very strange to me, but I suppose it keeps little Caesar's pockets quite full.

By the end of the show, I was exhausted, quite buzzed, updated my resumé on Monster.com, and applied for two jobs. Wish me luck! I am..... the Booze Whisperer.

Obama

Simply put, it's pretty damn amazing. Here's hoping....

(Illustrator Greg Halbert created this illustration - I love it.)

US Airways V. Big Bird

I don't know about you, but I was much more fascinated by yesterday's US Airways crash into the Hudson, than I was about Bush's farewell speech. ABC News' Liz Cho (whose hair frighteningly stayed intact as she bobbed her head in disbelief) reported the incident last night being sure to inform the masses of exactly how horrific this crash could have been. Experts say a bird flying into an engine could potentially cause catastrophic damage, let alone several of them. Luckily, everyone got out safely and all survived, some with very minor injuries... with that said:

What a set of BALLS on these birds, no? Last time I checked, the sound of a passing car, a fire engine, the quiet clap of an infant was enough to send a bird running for cover... let alone a fucking jet engine! I guess the flock was too busy trying to make the perfect "V" to notice the giant jet behind them when 2 of them bit it. Interestingly, one Ms. Converse out of Yardville, NJ alerted authorities (me), via email earlier today, of exactly who is now the prime suspect in the case, one "Big... Bird". Witnesses were reported to have said "It was big. It was loud... It was awful." Fascinating, right?! Given this dramatic chain of events, I've decided to conduct my own investigation.

Upon extensive phone calls, googling, and visits to the U.N., it turns out that said "Bird" had an accomplice. ABC News' Liz Cho reports: "If you see this man....."




I think I froze a nipple...

So it's no big surprise that this week is supposed to be cold as fuck. Note to selves: Friday's high is supposed to be 14 degrees. Anyway, I was on my way to work today when, walking from Rockefeller Center (where the express bus leaves me in the am) to the 50th street 1 train station, I was in physical pain. Of course I was walking against the direction the wind was blowing... hence the quasi-frozen nipplage. However, I thought of the perfect remedy to this week of bitter, brutal cold....

Alcohol.

I have a question I need answered though... (The 3 people in the world who actually read my drivel can either email me or post their answers in the comments section.) If you were to mix up the following:

A shot of Coconut Rum
A shot of Blue Curacao (Orange liqueur dyed blue)
Splash of club soda

Would you prefer passion fruit, mango, or pineapple juice as your main ingredient? What would make the nipple, that wasn't frozen on the walk to your door, stand up at full salute?

"B*tch, gimme ma' kidney!"

Alright, every once in a while some absolutely fucking ridiculous news story breaks out of Long Island that just makes me proud, proud, proud to have been raised in such a fine place. Take, for example, one Richard Batista from Massapequa. This poor son of a bitch donated a kidney to his soon-to-be ex-wife back in 2001 and is currently insisting she either give it back to him, or at the very least pay him $1.5 million. Wow. Now, I've dealt with some nasty breakups in the past and gone back for ooooh a portable dvd player, a Calvin Klein shirt that clearly fit me better, the good porn, you know - all reasonable shit. It turns out that Batista's, quite unattractive, philandering wife happened to be banging her physical therapist, but in all reality, what the hell is he going to do? Pay tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills to hack himself up and put the fucking thing back in? I'm thinking it's something in the water out there... Have you seen the Long Island Sound? It ain't pretty. This is warning to all my friends and family back in L.I. Do yourselves a favor - switch to Poland Spring.

Pearrrrrrl Cream

Does anyone else remember this idiotic infomercial? Of course you do. It was huge in the 80s and I've made it my mission today to figure out what the hell happened to little Nancy Kwan. Although I haven't seen any of the movies she claims to have been so popular in (What the hell was "Nobu How"?), I'm intrigued. People like Ron Popeil and his Pasta Maker, Food Dehydrator, and Rotisserie Machine from hell fascinate me. How the hell did they become so successful hocking this shit that's basically completely useless after 2 tries? Well, I have to admit I own the rotisserie, though it's sitting in my grandmother's apartment in brooklyn... I live in Queens... we ain't got the counter space. Hahaha, I love how when I mention queens my writing skills go in the toilet. Anyway, sitting at my desk here at work I'm thinking I need to invent something... something good. Something tasty perhaps? I don't know. I have all of the manufacturing contacts in China through this job. Hmmm... If anybody has any ideas, holla' at a brutha!

Ummm, I just IMDB'd Nancy Kwan: "Nobu How" = "Noble House" Ooops