The Animal Game

The Mets suck, Kelly sucks, and the fact that my teeth hurt sucks.  On Friday was mine and Amie’s birthday party at a place called Happy Ending and I had a good time and I hope you did too.  I didn’t get as drunk as I thought I would, but my girlfriend looked pretty.  Keith and Jo made really good cookies and brought them to the bar.  Good for them.  I love it how people look at you with three eyes when you walk into a bar with a box of cookies, only to have two drinks and be coddling all over those same cookies by nights end.  And they were good cookies too.  Everyone said so (even my dad did today).  I gave a couple to the bouncers and they really liked them. 

Mike was there too.  He didn’t hook up although I introduced him to an Italian girl from one of Starr’s classes.  Full-blooded and much prettier than her pictures.  He danced a bit, then Irish Goodbye’d.  Poor Mike.  I guess he just needs time (he did just get a new watch).  I think I’ll document Mike’s moves in life now that he’s single and everyone likes to hear about him.  Besides, he never reads this blog.

I still haven’t figured out what that game was from two posts back.  It’s something about animals and the sounds they make.  I think it went something like this, ‘name the proper word-sounds that animals make’….So if I went first I’d say:

OINK

Then you’d say

MEOW

Then I’d say

BARK (or is it WOOF?)

Then you’d say 

RIBBIT

…And so on and so forth.  This game was played for a while between myself, Jeff, and Starr, so there must have been something compelling about it, although it seems really dumb now.

And finally, Tommy sent me a great email this morning that basically takes Kieth Hernandez and puts him in the role of Alec Baldwin in Glengary Glenn Ross.  Now a quick backstory, I’ve never seen GGR before and forgot this halfway through the email.  I just believed this was a rousing speach by Keith Hernandez, done in a way I only imagine he’s able to do.  Not to mention that this type of speech is exactly what these damn Mets Ballplayers needed.  Of course Tommy sent me the link to the GGR scene after I was properly made fun of, and I’m giving it to you here.  But here it is, the email reprinted, and the actual scene from the film.  Gosh I wanna be a bastard like that sometimes.

 

Scene: Mets locker room, Tuesday 9/23, 4:00 pm

Keith: Let me have your attention for a moment! 

(to Manuel) Are they all here?

Manuel: All but Santana.

Keith: Well, I’m going anyway. Let’s talk about something important! 

(to Ayala) Put that coffee down!! Coffee is for closers only. 

Do you think I’m f*cking with you? I am not f*cking with you. 

I’m here from upstairs. I’m here from Fred and Jeff. And I’m here on a mission of mercy. 

Your name’s Ayala?

Ayala: Yeah.

Keith: You want to be the closer, you son of a bitch?

Castillo: I don’t have to listen to this shit.

Keith: You certainly don’t pal. ‘Cause the good news is – you’re fired. The bad news is – you’ve got, you’ve all got, just six games to keep your jobs, starting tonight . . . starting with tonight’s game!!! 

Oh, have I got your attention now? 

Good. Because we’re adding a little something to the rest of the season. As you know, first prize is the NL East title – which you’ve pretty much blown. Anyone want to see second prize? Second prize is the NL wild card. Third prize is you’re released. 

You get the picture? You laughing now? 

You’ve all got inflated contracts. Fred and Jeff overpaid for your sorry asses. Pitch the ball and hit the ball! You can’t hit shit? You can’t catch shit? You can’t close shit? You ARE shit, hit the bricks pal and beat it ’cause you are going down!

Heilman: My knee is weak.

Keith: Your knee is weak? You’re weak!

Beltran: Who the f*ck are you to talk to us like this?

Keith: F*CK YOU!!! – that’s who I am! You know why, Mister Mega Million Dollar Bunter? Because you look to bunt with two on and none out and I drove those runners in! That’s who the f*ck I am. 

(to Wright) And your name is “you’re wanting.” You can’t play in a man’s game? You can’t hit with runners in scoring position? Then go home to Virginia Beach and tell your mommy your troubles. 

(to all) Because only one thing counts in this life! Hit and pitch the f*cking baseball! You hear me, you f*cking pussies?

A-B-C . . . A-always, B-be, C-closing. Always be closing! Always be closing!! 

P-F-H-R . . . P-pitch, F-field, H-hit, R-run

Pitch – quit the f*cking nibbling with 2 strikes and pitch the ball! 

Field – every one of you f*ckers needs to field your position, without exception.

Hit – (to Castillo) can you hit the f*cking baseball? I know you can because it’s f*ck or walk. You hit the ball or you hit the bricks! 

And Run – (to Reyes) can you get the f*ck on base and run, you slacking prick? 

Now get out there!! The Cubs are pitching Sean f*cking Marshall tonight. . . they’re gonna be out there waiting to give you a win! 

Are you gonna take it? . . . Are you men enough to take it? 

(to Delgado) What’s the problem pal? You, Delgado.

Delgado: You’re such a hero, you’re so smart. Why’re you coming down here and wasting your time on a bunch of bums?

(walks over to Delgado and takes off his ‘82 and ‘86 World Series rings)

Keith: You see these rings? I’ve won two championships. How many have you won? You see, pal, that’s who I am. And you’re nothing. 

Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. 

Good father? F*ck you – go home and play with your kids!! 

(to everyone) You wanna play here? . . .then f*cking Win!! 

(to Heilman) You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this, then how can you take the abuse you get from the fans during a game? You don’t like it? – leave. 

I can go out there tonight and go 3 for 4 off Sean Marshall, and I’m 55 years old! 

(to Beltran) Can you? 

(to Wright) Can you? 

Go and do likewise! 

Get mad! You sons of bitches! Get mad!! 

You know what it takes to win ball games? It takes brass balls to win ball games.

Go and do likewise, gents. The wins are out there, you pick ‘em up, they’re yours. You don’t, I have no sympathy for you. You wanna go out this week and win, win ball games – they’re yours. If not, you’re gonna be shining my shoes. Bunch of f*cking losers, you’ll be sitting around in a bar, whining: “Oh yeah, I used to be a ballplayer, it’s a tough racket.” 

This is the NL Wild Card – and to you, it’s gold. And if you don’t get it, it’s because you’re just pissing it away. 

I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it. 

(to Beltran) And to answer Delgado’s question: why am I here? 

I came here because Fred and Jeff asked me to – they asked me for a favor. I told them: the real favor is, follow my advice and trade your sorry ass, because a loser is a loser.

 

Sign of the times.

Stuck between 50th St station and Xolumbis Circle-

It’s a clear sign of my age that all I aNt, need , desire at this moment is a Tums..but nevertheless, what a fun night with friends. Me, Sean, Mike,Brian, Heath, and Jeff met for dinner and drinks to, among other this be, celebrate my birthday, Seans one year anniversary, Jeffs new job, and Mikes exorcism. Tommy “the Machine” was sadly missed ( is be losing a step)?

We teamed mime for a while telling Kelly stories, lots, and even a Mwgab story.

Everyone looked a bit older when they showed up(some guy on khakis ate my old rooomate…) but a few bbeers and I’d was the conversation that really mattered.

I’m cleaning out my phone and I found this unpublished entry. I remember this night. We ate and drank on the west side. We don’t do it as often as we should, but life has a tendency to get in the way.

We should really do this again one night after Hockey practice or something.

Besides porn and eBay, the firewall at work doesn’t allow me to visit abzme.com so updating has been a bit troublesome lately.

Mike’s Girl Proves Herself Psycho

Yes, it has been an eventful summer and perhaps one of the better moments was Mike’s realization that his body won’t do whatever his head says it should do (or otherway around, doesn’t matter, it’s just important that there was inner conflict). And for a long time after the initial breakup, Mike wasn’t sure if he made the right decision. Well Mike, you sure did.

Okay Kelly, you psycho. You pretend like you care about what people are saying, but you’re just waiting to talk more about yourself. Okay that your loud club music is your preference, but must you blast it at 120 decibals when 6 average white guys are squeezed into your hatchback? Can’t you fucking lower your shitty music? Okay, Kelly, you need to stop for gas at that very fucking moment? What’s the matter with you? Go back to the fringe where you came from.

I was willing to put up with Kelly so long as Mike was with her. Even if that meant a lifetime. Though we all hated her, none of us had the balls to tell Mike. But she sucked. She just didn’t flow. You know she sucked because all our other girlfriends fear being referred to as a Kelly behind their backs (at least mine does). She’s become a verb. An action. Stop kellying me!

Kellying: v – 1. To act crazy and irrational and violent and possessive and not just relax. 2. To be a loser.

Haha. I hope you’re still reading because alot of this post is just rambling without editing. A little non-sequitor and not so good, I know, but let me get to the point because I’m here in Fort Lee keeping an eye on Mike. We’re on our way to the boy from Neptar’s Earth apartment for a party tonight. He took an apartment in Nyack and before we go we have plans to go to Chili’s for dinner. Y’see, we used to go there alot when we were younger, but not anymore. So for Mike’s graduation earlier this year I got him a gift certificate to Chili’s. Y’know. Old times sake. Hey Mike, grab the gift card before we go! But no. It’s gone. Along with the Maxwell House and the dessert mixer his brother-in-law gave him. That fucking bitch. NOW YOU GOT YOUR SHIT ON ME!!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!

Kelly, if you weren’t so crazy, maybe you and Mike would be together. Heck maybe we could have been friends. But you took my Chili’s gift card gift and now I swear to the guardian of Fort Lee I will do all in my power to keep my friend from you. Congratulations, this is no longer about what’s best for my friend but what’s best for me. And that’s to keep you away. So long A Kelly.

…

Sunday, September 14th.  11:03pm -

I’m reading an email I wrote to myself months ago from my old computer.  An HP Laptop I’m giving to my dad today….

“I promised myself, when I started this blog, that I wouldn’t get stopped by posting. That I’d post frequently enough and not question what I’m putting up here too much so that things could actually get written and read, rather than bounce around in my head. I had been off to a pretty good start, but unfortunately got stuck this week (and most of last). I need to dislodge myself and sooner rather than later, or else it will just become harder with every other day that passes.”

After over a year of posting I stopped writing on this thing for over a month.  Indirectly related, perhaps, my semi-organized life is unravelling.  I haven’t visited the dentist in a year.  I’m grossly out of shape for my age and my nipples are too big to not have a tightly shaped chest.  My bank account is depleting and I can’t seem to get my head around my finances.  August 1st I moved out of my awesome apartment downtown leaving my cool roommate Jeff, and moved in with my dad into his apartment on 100th Street.  I currently am staying with my brother-in-law while my sister is away, helping with my niece and the dog (I gave her a bath and read her a story tonight).  I’ve regressed at my job enough that twice this week I wore a white Hanes t-shirt and jeans around the office like a 50’s greaser.  I can’t make an appointment at the physical therapist for the life of me and my back hurts too much to not do so.  My girlfriend doesn’t think that I pay enough attention to her at times.  My friends think I don’t pay them enough mind sometimes.  My friend circle is no longer a circle but an odd geometric shape none of us have seen before.  As a result, no one seems to know how to hang out anymore.  I have new suits to wear to the office but in a year I haven’t gotten the hem taken in.  I have a sloppy desk at work.  I eat poorly and pick my nose too much.  I’m turning 29 in 10 day and I’m a bit of a mess.

I leave myself notes pretty often.  Every day in fact.  Post-it notes, notes on my iPhone, messages to myself, emails to myself.  I right on the backs of envelopes and doggy-ear pages I think that I’ll return to one day.  Of course I never do.  I used to meet girls and would write down facts about them from the conversation we’d had, just so I could seem sharp and intuitive the next time we met.  I do this with work now too, and it’s good for shopkeepers (Deloris and her sister Roe ran the old Laudromat downtown where Jeff and I used to drop our stuff off).  Jeff can atest to my note taking and making.  Shame of it all is that most of it’s incoherent.  Seamless.  And sloppy.  I put an email to myself below as an example.  I wrote it earlier this year.  I have very little understanding of what it means.  I do think that ‘words that animals use’ is a reference to a thought I had earlier this year that I don’t quite remember 100%.  Jeff might because I played it with him.  Bex too.  What was that game?  Something about animal sounds….

 

What you tube thing –uncle

What coat – snow board

Wheres Pan

Lunch yesterday

Omega 3 for memory and games 

Rebecca Starr called them Superfoods.

I take notes but then I forget where to put the notes. Post it notes.

 

Words that animals use

My inability to perform

Words that sounds like animalsounds

 

Nickname=stovetop cooking  ,  the eleven letter man