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The Vortex
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Jul 10, 2007
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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 47
Sign: Capricorn
City: BROOKLYN
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 06/17/07
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Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Trust Everyone,But Cut The Deck Of CardsII
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
So, I'm still kind of dizzy from jumping into the East River.I'd prefer not to got to a hospital yet. I'm sure I'm just tired from dragging the East River looking for those fucking urns, I mean loved ones.Well, at least I found them, and retrieved the money my wife hid in them.( I gave myself a reward). Anyway, now these urns are still back in the house and now they stink. There is something green growing on them... There's a fungus among us... Which reminds me of another story...
I was on Long Island at a flea market. Two other junkmen were scrambling around,"Where's the t.v.? Somebody stole that little t.v."
I looked around and saw a big lady wobbling off. I suspected the television was between her legs. I suspected she pulled down her panties and stuck the t.v. between her legs. I told the junkmen my suspicions. They nodded, "Let her keep the t.v."
That was not good enough for me. I trust my detective abilities and ran after her...She wanted to give me back the t.v. but I suggested she just give me some donation. I went back to the Junkmen and handed them twenty.They only wanted fifteen for it.
We watched her mosey off into the sunset.
"Where's the t.v. antennae," one of the junkmen said, as they scrambled around looking for it.
I didn't even want to venture to guess.
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Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Trust Everyone,But Cut The Deck Of Cards
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
I cleanout apartments and houses after people die. Sometimes, there are no relatives. There's always a lot of garbage, but how can I throw out their remains. So I don't. I bring them home and my wife just shakes her head.
We have a new baby boy in the house and the apartment we're in is getting cramped. Every kid I have, means I have to get rid of 100 boxes of stuff. So, I figured it was time to get rid of these loved ones; the wife didn't want them and I could count these guys as two boxes of stuff off my list. I didn't want to throw them out. So, I pondered and decided that they should be buried at sea. I didn't just want to chuck them from the shore, so I took my inflatable raft and went about fifty feet into the East River from the Greenpoint side. I came home feeling pretty good about the loved ones...
My wife was ghostly white, "Where are the guys?"
I thought she was going to thank me,"Its o.k. hon, they have a new home."
"You ass. Those guys had money in them. I've been saving money in them."
"Well, they're in the East River now."
"Well go get them. There's alot of money in them."
"How much?"
She wouldn't say. I know why she wouldn't say. If she told me how much, I might just come home with that amount by selling something good. She kind of figured that I wouldn't want to go diving in the East River. The other thought I had was that she didn't want me to know just how much money she was taking from the business without telling me. How much could it be. 500 bucks, 5,000 bucks,50,000 bucks. How much could it really be. So, that's how I ended up in the East River today. I had to know what my wife was saving.
I was scared to go into the East River. The Greenpoint side is polluted. I know that sounds weird but the Greenpoint side had that oil spill fifty years ago and from what I understand if you fall in, one is recommended to go to your local hospital. Of course, I would rather die than go to Woodhull hospital's emergency room,(Woodhull is the local hospital) where one may die just waiting to be saved. So, I had an extra hundred on me to give to the ambulance driver to make sure I get into a Manhattan hospital if I needed it. So, as you can see I had a plan. I had a boat, I had an anchor, I had balloons to float the guys back to the surface. How deep could it be? It was a day at the beach.
It was hot today, so I tried to convince myself that the water was just going to cool me off.
A couple of Polish old guys were fishing when I got there and I tried to explain to them that they shouldn't eat the fish they catch but they were too amazed by my orange raft and scuba gear,"Police business," I told them and they high tailed it out of that area.
The water felt great. I was all sweaty and the water felt cool and fresh. A little bit like a dirty bath but not too bad. Tourist boats and barges created ripples in the water and shifted me around. I kept thinking that I might find a body in the water and then I would have to explain how I was in the water to find my dead guys but this arm was not part of my guys.
I found my guys pretty fast surprizingly. The boxes were covered in green whatever. It wasn't seaweed. It was green whatever, I'd rather not think about it.
Success, until my raft started sinking. Damn. I dumped the anchor and somehow got it all ashore where my biggest nightmare was waiting for me...
Cops.
Cops are my biggest nightmare. If the military would have been waiting for me there would be some explaining to do but I 'd get out. Sometimes, cops can be a drag. I never understand why. There are so many cops on t.v. and movies that I've loved. Columbo, Kojak, really the list is long. Yet, New York cops can be dense. Only what they say to each other is funny or meaningful.
I had an edge. They did not want to cuff me or bring me into a car. Quite frankly, I stunk. I think there was even shit in my hair. What a break. I knew they wanted to believe any story I told them as long as they didn't have to touch me.
I said, "Taking these samples in for the city to determine the pollutants in order to get some fiscal increases for the coming year."
Cops are so underpaid in this city that they just nodded.Everything they do is because of money and fiscal bullshit.
They looked a little irritated, "Have someone call us ahead of time,otherwise we get calls about terrorists."
"Sorry about that, next time my superviser will call, I'm just the underpaid lackey. Listen, can you guys help me bring thses sample cans of irritant pollutants to the van."
"No!" They both said and turned to go back to their car.
When I got home, my wife was waiting for me at the door, "So did you find all the guys?"
"All but one," I said.
"How much money?"
"About four thousand dollars?"
"The last one had another fifteen hundred in it."
"We'll just have to work a little harder," I said and gave her a big stink hug.
She gasped.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Rat On Brother II
Category: Pets and Animals
This is really a story about a Holocaust survivor but I promise you it's funny... sort of.
My mom is a Holocaust survivor. She survived with her family in a hole in Lithuania. Rats, mice , bugs and frogs were in that hole with them. 18 months in that hole.
Anyway,my mom lives in Chelsea, in a nice apartment, in a nice building. A rat got into her apartment. She chased this rat down and cornered him in the bathtub. She took every chemical she had and doused him. The poor guy had no chance. He was bleached, windexed, boraxed and shoe shined.
By the time I got there, building management had to be notified because this thing was gelatin and I had no idea how to remove it. At this point, I thought it could be washed down the drain. The super was horrified. He looked at this poor thing ,"I've never seen anything like this in my life.How did she have the balls to do this?"
"My mom comes from a special place."
The irony of the story is that in the moment my mom could kill that rat because it meant survival to her.
A lot of other people would have left their apartment and let the super take care of the situation.
She still thinks about the rat and thinks about it all the time.
I wonder how often I do the same type of thing.
This is really a story about a Holocaust survivor but I promise you it's funny... sort of.
My mom is a Holocaust survivor. She survived with her family in a hole in Lithuania. Rats, mice , bugs and frogs were in that hole with them. 18 months in that hole.
Anyway,my mom lives in Chelsea, in a nice apartment, in a nice building. A rat got into her apartment. She chased this rat down and cornered him in the bathtub. She took every chemical she had and doused him. The poor guy had no chance. He was bleached, windexed, boraxed and shoe shined.
By the time I got there, building management had to be notified because this thing was gelatin and I had no idea how to remove it. At this point, I thought it could be washed down the drain. The super was horrified. He looked at this poor thing ,"I've never seen anything like this in my life.How did she have the balls to do this?"
"My mom comes from a special place."
The irony of the story is that in the moment my mom could kill that rat because it meant survival to her.
A lot of other people would have left their apartment and let the super take care of the situation.
She still thinks about the rat and thinks about it all the time.
I wonder how often I do the same type of thing.
Spanish Eddie and Garbology
I don't ever mean to do anything criminal. It just happens.
So, years ago I'm hanging out at Manny's and I hear about a recod collection that went to a flea market. My car was towed because my ex-wife, who was my wife at the time, didn't tell me about the tickets she was getting on the car. I was about to call a cab to get to this flea market when Manny chimes in, "Spanish Eddie will drive you. He needs some extra cash."
When I have to pick up stuff, that's all I think about. So, I was already on the road with Spanish Eddie when I noticed all the broken glass under my feet, "Someone break into your car?"
"No, I just stole it. Listen, I need to get an advance on the trip."
Now, I could have gotten out anywhere. I've been stranded in many places in my life. Its not a big deal for me to get out anywhere in this city. I've done walkabouts all over this city, not unlike like the movie The Warriors. I wanted to get to my big deal, so I gave him twenty bucks up front and stuck in the car.
He did not want to get breakfast. The money was for dope. So we had to stop at some bodega. Then he had to shoot the dope , so we stopped at this apartment house in Ridgewood. There was nobody home, so instead of moving it along, Spanish Eddie opened the trunk and found a crowbar to break into the apartment.
I still was not flipping out about these criminal offenses, I just wanted to get that record collection.
Before he could break into the house, his girlfriend came out and they scooted inside screaming at each other as two beat cops came around the corner.
Finally, Spanish Eddie came out pin eyed. He drove like a nut and I got my record collection. I gave him another twenty and sent him on his way. I took a luxurious car service home.
When, I saw Manny next, he was laughing, "You want to dig a hole with Spanish Eddie? He's around the corner."
"Now, what is Manny getting me involved in?" I thought to myself.
Around the corner, Spanish Eddie was hired to dig out a basement. He was putting all the dirt in this car which he stole. Oy.
Later, I saw that car in the neighborhood, filled with dirt.
When I saw Spanish Eddie next I asked him, "Everybody saw you filling dirt in this car which you stole a few blocks away. Then you moved it only a few blocks away. Why didn't you at least move it out of Ridgewood and drive it to Forest Hills or somewhere far?"
"I didn't want to walk back and I didn't feel like stealing another car. I was finished digging out that basement?"
What could I say to this. What I will say is that I've seen a lot of stupid criminals commit a lot of stupid crimes before they get caught.
I have since let collections go before engaging with criminals. Its just not worth the embarrassment of explaining to a judge what I was doing in that car. Would you believe me if you didn't already know how stupid I could be?
So, years ago I'm hanging out at Manny's and I hear about a recod collection that went to a flea market. My car was towed because my ex-wife, who was my wife at the time, didn't tell me about the tickets she was getting on the car. I was about to call a cab to get to this flea market when Manny chimes in, "Spanish Eddie will drive you. He needs some extra cash."
When I have to pick up stuff, that's all I think about. So, I was already on the road with Spanish Eddie when I noticed all the broken glass under my feet, "Someone break into your car?"
"No, I just stole it. Listen, I need to get an advance on the trip."
Now, I could have gotten out anywhere. I've been stranded in many places in my life. Its not a big deal for me to get out anywhere in this city. I've done walkabouts all over this city, not unlike like the movie The Warriors. I wanted to get to my big deal, so I gave him twenty bucks up front and stuck in the car.
He did not want to get breakfast. The money was for dope. So we had to stop at some bodega. Then he had to shoot the dope , so we stopped at this apartment house in Ridgewood. There was nobody home, so instead of moving it along, Spanish Eddie opened the trunk and found a crowbar to break into the apartment.
I still was not flipping out about these criminal offenses, I just wanted to get that record collection.
Before he could break into the house, his girlfriend came out and they scooted inside screaming at each other as two beat cops came around the corner.
Finally, Spanish Eddie came out pin eyed. He drove like a nut and I got my record collection. I gave him another twenty and sent him on his way. I took a luxurious car service home.
When, I saw Manny next, he was laughing, "You want to dig a hole with Spanish Eddie? He's around the corner."
"Now, what is Manny getting me involved in?" I thought to myself.
Around the corner, Spanish Eddie was hired to dig out a basement. He was putting all the dirt in this car which he stole. Oy.
Later, I saw that car in the neighborhood, filled with dirt.
When I saw Spanish Eddie next I asked him, "Everybody saw you filling dirt in this car which you stole a few blocks away. Then you moved it only a few blocks away. Why didn't you at least move it out of Ridgewood and drive it to Forest Hills or somewhere far?"
"I didn't want to walk back and I didn't feel like stealing another car. I was finished digging out that basement?"
What could I say to this. What I will say is that I've seen a lot of stupid criminals commit a lot of stupid crimes before they get caught.
I have since let collections go before engaging with criminals. Its just not worth the embarrassment of explaining to a judge what I was doing in that car. Would you believe me if you didn't already know how stupid I could be?
Rat On Brother!
Category: Pets and Animals
So, I've got a few rat stories. Rat stories are tricky. Rats are primitive animals which outnumber and have slaughtered half the population of the world on a few occassions. Still , they can be a hoot. Here's one for you.
I was living in my warehouse in Ridgewood. I had a nice shower . Somehow, when I got out of the shower I had no towel and no clothes. I can't remember how that could even happen, how did I enter the shower which was a good thousand square feet away from my room without a towel or at least boxers. I can't remember. What I do remember is running out of the shower and making a dash for my room. When I made the corner turn, there was the hugest beast, this guy was big and chomping at the bit. He wanted to eat my dick for sure.
I did not want him to eat my dick, so still dripping and maybe dripping instant sweat and pumped with adrenaline, I slowly backed up.I considered climbing a wall, the walls didn't reach the ceiling but then I'd have to jump quite a distance. Didn't want that broken leg. In the room I backed into, I had some vintage farm tools. I picked up the pitch fork and screamed my death charge. May the better animal win.
I whacked the shit out of this rat who must have either been sick or not understood what anybody could do to him with a pitchfork. He kind of took it in without much of a fight. Adrenaline was pumping, and so I smooshed him about fifty times. I flattened him flat. It was a situation like a guy with a knife. Once he starts stabbing, it may be fifty times before he stops.
Primitive situation. I got some clothes on and grabbed my flattened friend with the pitchfork. I walked him to the garbage can outside my warehouse. My landlord was looking at me strangely. Im a hairy guy who was just in boxers in the middle of winter. The rat too may have shocked him. He might not understand that the rat was flattened and he may think that his building has super rats. Then again, I was in an old neighborhood in New York and I had a pitchfork in my hands. Maybe the combination.
So, I've got a few rat stories. Rat stories are tricky. Rats are primitive animals which outnumber and have slaughtered half the population of the world on a few occassions. Still , they can be a hoot. Here's one for you.
I was living in my warehouse in Ridgewood. I had a nice shower . Somehow, when I got out of the shower I had no towel and no clothes. I can't remember how that could even happen, how did I enter the shower which was a good thousand square feet away from my room without a towel or at least boxers. I can't remember. What I do remember is running out of the shower and making a dash for my room. When I made the corner turn, there was the hugest beast, this guy was big and chomping at the bit. He wanted to eat my dick for sure.
I did not want him to eat my dick, so still dripping and maybe dripping instant sweat and pumped with adrenaline, I slowly backed up.I considered climbing a wall, the walls didn't reach the ceiling but then I'd have to jump quite a distance. Didn't want that broken leg. In the room I backed into, I had some vintage farm tools. I picked up the pitch fork and screamed my death charge. May the better animal win.
I whacked the shit out of this rat who must have either been sick or not understood what anybody could do to him with a pitchfork. He kind of took it in without much of a fight. Adrenaline was pumping, and so I smooshed him about fifty times. I flattened him flat. It was a situation like a guy with a knife. Once he starts stabbing, it may be fifty times before he stops.
Primitive situation. I got some clothes on and grabbed my flattened friend with the pitchfork. I walked him to the garbage can outside my warehouse. My landlord was looking at me strangely. Im a hairy guy who was just in boxers in the middle of winter. The rat too may have shocked him. He might not understand that the rat was flattened and he may think that his building has super rats. Then again, I was in an old neighborhood in New York and I had a pitchfork in my hands. Maybe the combination.
Hunting For The Apple That Eve Bit
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Hunting For The Apple That Eve Bit
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
There most definately is a quality of gambling to what I do for a living. I'm out there on this treasure hunt everyday. I am looking for the apple that Eve bit. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not a religious man. In fact, I wish it were the time before the bible, I am after all a primitive man.
So, give me that apple that Eve bit and the first thing I would do is take a bite. Let's see how fruit tasted back then. Let's see how much smarter and what kind of knowledge I would have. I would not be ashamed of my body and dress in clothes. It's too hot for that. I would bring that apple to the Antique Roadshow and the first sucker which offered me a million bucks in single unmarked bills, I would grab it. I've got a family of 4 to feed. I don't have time to think about its significance. I need to cashout.
Damn, how did I get on this topic. Oh yeah, I was going to talk about how when I wake, I don't know what I'm going to buy or where I am going to end up. I ended up in Dallas a couple of weeks ago, schlepping a mattress to the curb. I realized I better call Dawn and tell her I'll be late for dinner. I live in Brooklyn. (I was buying a 45 record collection and the old guy wanted his mattress thrown out. I helped him out. I took a plane in the morning on a lead and I never got a chance to tell Dawn what was going on.
Damn, this is still not what I wanted to tell you about. Sometimes, my life feels like a spiraling ball of rubber bands. I have a lot to tell you and I want to get it all out at once. I want you to hold the rubber ball in your hands, and each color of the ball will tell a different aspect of my story. I want you to see it all at once and that is not possible.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you what I wanted to tell you today.
Hunting For The Apple That Eve Bit
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
There most definately is a quality of gambling to what I do for a living. I'm out there on this treasure hunt everyday. I am looking for the apple that Eve bit. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not a religious man. In fact, I wish it were the time before the bible, I am after all a primitive man.
So, give me that apple that Eve bit and the first thing I would do is take a bite. Let's see how fruit tasted back then. Let's see how much smarter and what kind of knowledge I would have. I would not be ashamed of my body and dress in clothes. It's too hot for that. I would bring that apple to the Antique Roadshow and the first sucker which offered me a million bucks in single unmarked bills, I would grab it. I've got a family of 4 to feed. I don't have time to think about its significance. I need to cashout.
Damn, how did I get on this topic. Oh yeah, I was going to talk about how when I wake, I don't know what I'm going to buy or where I am going to end up. I ended up in Dallas a couple of weeks ago, schlepping a mattress to the curb. I realized I better call Dawn and tell her I'll be late for dinner. I live in Brooklyn. (I was buying a 45 record collection and the old guy wanted his mattress thrown out. I helped him out. I took a plane in the morning on a lead and I never got a chance to tell Dawn what was going on.
Damn, this is still not what I wanted to tell you about. Sometimes, my life feels like a spiraling ball of rubber bands. I have a lot to tell you and I want to get it all out at once. I want you to hold the rubber ball in your hands, and each color of the ball will tell a different aspect of my story. I want you to see it all at once and that is not possible.
Tomorrow, I'll tell you what I wanted to tell you today.
Collecting Hypo's Kennedy and Jazz
Collecting Hypo's Kennedy and Jazz
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Manny took me over to see ProCon Mike's apartment. Loaded. 200 boxes of junk and when I say junk I mean heroin. Every box had heroin in it. He had used needles, great old jazz records and all the old Kennedy conspiracy books. He had sculptures of Kennedy's shattered brains in the morgue. The guy was something else.
The way I see it, first he worked himself into a frenzy about Kennedy and then he shot some dope when it all was too much for him. Then he stumbled over to the turntable to listen to some Miles Davis.
No one was willing to do the cleanout. ProCon Mike was also gay. His boyfriend and dopefriend had Aids. This was in the beginning of Aids in this country. Talk about conspiracies!
Even the junkies were afraid to do the cleanout and there were full bags of dope in the place. I did the job. Made a ton of money on the records and kept the sculpture of Kennedy's brains and the telephone book with all th CIA's agents home phone numbers in it.
Hey anybody want to make some prank phone calls to old agents who worked on the Kennedy assassination?
By the way, I threw out the dope, didn't want anyone to get Draino.
Collecting Hypo's Kennedy and Jazz
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Manny took me over to see ProCon Mike's apartment. Loaded. 200 boxes of junk and when I say junk I mean heroin. Every box had heroin in it. He had used needles, great old jazz records and all the old Kennedy conspiracy books. He had sculptures of Kennedy's shattered brains in the morgue. The guy was something else.
The way I see it, first he worked himself into a frenzy about Kennedy and then he shot some dope when it all was too much for him. Then he stumbled over to the turntable to listen to some Miles Davis.
No one was willing to do the cleanout. ProCon Mike was also gay. His boyfriend and dopefriend had Aids. This was in the beginning of Aids in this country. Talk about conspiracies!
Even the junkies were afraid to do the cleanout and there were full bags of dope in the place. I did the job. Made a ton of money on the records and kept the sculpture of Kennedy's brains and the telephone book with all th CIA's agents home phone numbers in it.
Hey anybody want to make some prank phone calls to old agents who worked on the Kennedy assassination?
By the way, I threw out the dope, didn't want anyone to get Draino.
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Manny took me over to see ProCon Mike's apartment. Loaded. 200 boxes of junk and when I say junk I mean heroin. Every box had heroin in it. He had used needles, great old jazz records and all the old Kennedy conspiracy books. He had sculptures of Kennedy's shattered brains in the morgue. The guy was something else.
The way I see it, first he worked himself into a frenzy about Kennedy and then he shot some dope when it all was too much for him. Then he stumbled over to the turntable to listen to some Miles Davis.
No one was willing to do the cleanout. ProCon Mike was also gay. His boyfriend and dopefriend had Aids. This was in the beginning of Aids in this country. Talk about conspiracies!
Even the junkies were afraid to do the cleanout and there were full bags of dope in the place. I did the job. Made a ton of money on the records and kept the sculpture of Kennedy's brains and the telephone book with all th CIA's agents home phone numbers in it.
Hey anybody want to make some prank phone calls to old agents who worked on the Kennedy assassination?
By the way, I threw out the dope, didn't want anyone to get Draino.
Collecting Hypo's Kennedy and Jazz
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Manny took me over to see ProCon Mike's apartment. Loaded. 200 boxes of junk and when I say junk I mean heroin. Every box had heroin in it. He had used needles, great old jazz records and all the old Kennedy conspiracy books. He had sculptures of Kennedy's shattered brains in the morgue. The guy was something else.
The way I see it, first he worked himself into a frenzy about Kennedy and then he shot some dope when it all was too much for him. Then he stumbled over to the turntable to listen to some Miles Davis.
No one was willing to do the cleanout. ProCon Mike was also gay. His boyfriend and dopefriend had Aids. This was in the beginning of Aids in this country. Talk about conspiracies!
Even the junkies were afraid to do the cleanout and there were full bags of dope in the place. I did the job. Made a ton of money on the records and kept the sculpture of Kennedy's brains and the telephone book with all th CIA's agents home phone numbers in it.
Hey anybody want to make some prank phone calls to old agents who worked on the Kennedy assassination?
By the way, I threw out the dope, didn't want anyone to get Draino.
Obsessive Collector Of Used Hypo's,Kennedy and Jazz
Obsessive collector of used hypo's Kennedy and Jazz
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Some people take their hobbies to dangerous levels of extreme obsession. Conspiracy Mike was one of those people. Every facet of life to ProCon Mike was shoot dope, listen to jazz and discuss the Kennedy assassination. Everyone was in on the murder. Everyone! Sometimes, he even said Jackie O' did it. Once, he wondered if it could have been suicide.
ProCon Mike commited suicide. He injected Draino into his system as a train rumbled by. His window was right by the elevated M train...
I do the cleanout next time.
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Some people take their hobbies to dangerous levels of extreme obsession. Conspiracy Mike was one of those people. Every facet of life to ProCon Mike was shoot dope, listen to jazz and discuss the Kennedy assassination. Everyone was in on the murder. Everyone! Sometimes, he even said Jackie O' did it. Once, he wondered if it could have been suicide.
ProCon Mike commited suicide. He injected Draino into his system as a train rumbled by. His window was right by the elevated M train...
I do the cleanout next time.
Funeral Parlors Are Fun
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
I followed Manny one day. Very cloak and dagger of me. I had to know what was going on. A month had passed with Manny at the Funeral Parlor. What was going on. I could not believe my eyes when I got there.
Sheer mayhem. Manny turned the Funeral Parlor into a circus with an unusual sideshow. Every Junkman from the Eastcoast was dropping off their garbage into this six thousand square foot indoor dump. Trucks are honking outside. Inside prostitutes are giving junkmen blowjobs. Junkies were ripping out pipes from the walls in order to sell it for scrap. Water is spraying everywhere like in a water park. What the fuck.
Manny said,"Finally, there's a place not only for the dead but for the dead's posessions as well."
I followed Manny one day. Very cloak and dagger of me. I had to know what was going on. A month had passed with Manny at the Funeral Parlor. What was going on. I could not believe my eyes when I got there.
Sheer mayhem. Manny turned the Funeral Parlor into a circus with an unusual sideshow. Every Junkman from the Eastcoast was dropping off their garbage into this six thousand square foot indoor dump. Trucks are honking outside. Inside prostitutes are giving junkmen blowjobs. Junkies were ripping out pipes from the walls in order to sell it for scrap. Water is spraying everywhere like in a water park. What the fuck.
Manny said,"Finally, there's a place not only for the dead but for the dead's posessions as well."
Funeral Parlors Are Fun
The Funeral Parlor became a drop off of junk for those who recently died. A drop off for those who dropped off. Manny charged 100 dollars a truck ,which was nothing. It can cost a thousand to throw your trash away at the dump.
"The landlord is going to kill you," I said. "You were supposed to empty the building not fill it to the gills. I need an umbrella. It's raining in here."
"This is why I didn't want to bring you here. You cry like a baby... Listen while you are here I'll sell you all the funeral stuff. You can buy all the coffins and all the equipment but you have to take it all.
I salivated. All of a sudden, I didn't give a shit about the uprising going on in the funeral parlor. I was going to make alot of money with these prized antiques. Why should I care about this three ring circus Manny was running... I got all the stuff out that day.
I had coffins lined outside my store. Every freak in New York was yammering and clawing and scratching outside my store looking to buy their own coffin. I was an instant star. Rock people, Dominatrixes, Vampires, Wall Street types. Everybody had to have a coffin from good ole Shecky Wreck.
The scream, and what a scream it was from one of the Dominatrixes put an end to the hupla.
The Police were summoned. They wanted me to explain the fresh corpse in the beautiful mahogany casket as well as the Mummified corpse in the very vintage one.
I knew I could not rat out Manny, though he had royally fucked me. I could have gotten 2 grand a piece for those caskets and God knows what I could have gotten for the Mummy on Coney Island. Now, the cops had them up for auction.
Let me just cut to the chase. The Funeral Parlor Director died from a heart attack when he saw what Manny did to his property. Manny wanted him to die. He found that Mummy and recognized him.
The Mummy was the partner of the Funeral Parlor Director who supposedly took off with a hundred thousand dollars and went to Central America twenty five years earlier. Well, it seems he just made it to the basement, ala Arsenic and old lace.
Manny said,"You done good kid. You didn't rat me out. Now I got the job to clean out the Funeral Parlor for real. Maybe we'll find the missing money. Wanna help?"
"Yeah sure. Listen, how did you recognize that mummy?"
"You think if you were a mummy that in twenty five years from now I wouldn't recognize you? It would just be a dried up you."
And that is a smidgen of Manny.
"The landlord is going to kill you," I said. "You were supposed to empty the building not fill it to the gills. I need an umbrella. It's raining in here."
"This is why I didn't want to bring you here. You cry like a baby... Listen while you are here I'll sell you all the funeral stuff. You can buy all the coffins and all the equipment but you have to take it all.
I salivated. All of a sudden, I didn't give a shit about the uprising going on in the funeral parlor. I was going to make alot of money with these prized antiques. Why should I care about this three ring circus Manny was running... I got all the stuff out that day.
I had coffins lined outside my store. Every freak in New York was yammering and clawing and scratching outside my store looking to buy their own coffin. I was an instant star. Rock people, Dominatrixes, Vampires, Wall Street types. Everybody had to have a coffin from good ole Shecky Wreck.
The scream, and what a scream it was from one of the Dominatrixes put an end to the hupla.
The Police were summoned. They wanted me to explain the fresh corpse in the beautiful mahogany casket as well as the Mummified corpse in the very vintage one.
I knew I could not rat out Manny, though he had royally fucked me. I could have gotten 2 grand a piece for those caskets and God knows what I could have gotten for the Mummy on Coney Island. Now, the cops had them up for auction.
Let me just cut to the chase. The Funeral Parlor Director died from a heart attack when he saw what Manny did to his property. Manny wanted him to die. He found that Mummy and recognized him.
The Mummy was the partner of the Funeral Parlor Director who supposedly took off with a hundred thousand dollars and went to Central America twenty five years earlier. Well, it seems he just made it to the basement, ala Arsenic and old lace.
Manny said,"You done good kid. You didn't rat me out. Now I got the job to clean out the Funeral Parlor for real. Maybe we'll find the missing money. Wanna help?"
"Yeah sure. Listen, how did you recognize that mummy?"
"You think if you were a mummy that in twenty five years from now I wouldn't recognize you? It would just be a dried up you."
And that is a smidgen of Manny.
Don't You Wish It Was The Time Before The Bible?
The city blows off steam and so do I. If my mom was going to accuse me of being anti-semetic, I was going to give her a piece of my mind. Last night I went for that damn appointment with my mother's shrink. My mother as you know is training to be a Dominatrix. My mother wanted me to talk to her Rabbi, I went. My mother wanted me to go speak to her shrink, I went. That's it. I'm done, I'm finished. She can do whatever she wants.The truth of the matter is that I never blinked when the film crew came into the store yesterday, and asked me all kinds of questions about my mother learning the S&M Bondage trade.
This is what I said to them,"I'm a working stiff. I'm a Blue Collar worker and that's like saying I've got one foot in the grave. I only have my wit and my brawn to get me through the day. I have no other clout. The world around me pounds away. If I get killed in a steam bath, who can I go to to complain? If a terrorist picks on me today, I am a perfect target, I'm a white Jewish Male New Yorker,second Generation Holocaust survivor who lived in Israel. More than half this country hates me, let alone the rest of the world. I am a blip on the screen to the lowest common denominator. I know my position in life and I know that the only thing I can do for my family and whoever else wants to listen is teach them some survival skills... If it were the time before the bible, I could gather my apes and teach them to pick up sticks. It's too late for that. The bible is here and it has put me in my place... I have spent my life going from the sneer of contempt to the frivolous smile. And that is my revenge. What better way to live is there. I have something that some of the richest most powerful men on the planet wish I had, a serenity and acceptance to this mess, so I ask you if my mother wants to become a Dominatrix, that is her business.
The Director of the Reality t.v. that my mother was now a star on said,"Cut. We can't use any of that stuff he just said." His rubbery face got real close to me,"Listen, can you say something that shows concern for your mom. That's what the people want to hear about."
"The truth is no good?"
"Come on Larry, this is a reality show on t.v. Not a reality show in reality."
"O.K. I'm ready. Roll the tape."
The camera rolled.
I said, My mom is a Holocaust survivor, she lived in a hole for 18 months the size of a grave with the rest of her family; her mom, her Dad, a brother and a sister and then there were two other kids that didn't make it. If my mom, finds some release from pain from this world by becoming a Dominatrix, so be it. Maybe this will be the perfect job for her. She can punish men who punished her and they want to be punished because they know they're wrong."
"And Cut."
I guess I never got to the shrink appointment iin today's blog. It probably is too painful. I'll tell you what. I'll write it tonight after I take care of the kids. I promise. It'll be Saturday night and I'll leave a little present for you about my going to my mom's shrink to discuss her becoming a Dominatrix after you come home from going out. Isn't that what people still do? Go out and engage. Everyone out together. Fireworks and other steam pipes blew in that shrink's office. Now that was engaging
End of Part one
This is what I said to them,"I'm a working stiff. I'm a Blue Collar worker and that's like saying I've got one foot in the grave. I only have my wit and my brawn to get me through the day. I have no other clout. The world around me pounds away. If I get killed in a steam bath, who can I go to to complain? If a terrorist picks on me today, I am a perfect target, I'm a white Jewish Male New Yorker,second Generation Holocaust survivor who lived in Israel. More than half this country hates me, let alone the rest of the world. I am a blip on the screen to the lowest common denominator. I know my position in life and I know that the only thing I can do for my family and whoever else wants to listen is teach them some survival skills... If it were the time before the bible, I could gather my apes and teach them to pick up sticks. It's too late for that. The bible is here and it has put me in my place... I have spent my life going from the sneer of contempt to the frivolous smile. And that is my revenge. What better way to live is there. I have something that some of the richest most powerful men on the planet wish I had, a serenity and acceptance to this mess, so I ask you if my mother wants to become a Dominatrix, that is her business.
The Director of the Reality t.v. that my mother was now a star on said,"Cut. We can't use any of that stuff he just said." His rubbery face got real close to me,"Listen, can you say something that shows concern for your mom. That's what the people want to hear about."
"The truth is no good?"
"Come on Larry, this is a reality show on t.v. Not a reality show in reality."
"O.K. I'm ready. Roll the tape."
The camera rolled.
I said, My mom is a Holocaust survivor, she lived in a hole for 18 months the size of a grave with the rest of her family; her mom, her Dad, a brother and a sister and then there were two other kids that didn't make it. If my mom, finds some release from pain from this world by becoming a Dominatrix, so be it. Maybe this will be the perfect job for her. She can punish men who punished her and they want to be punished because they know they're wrong."
"And Cut."
I guess I never got to the shrink appointment iin today's blog. It probably is too painful. I'll tell you what. I'll write it tonight after I take care of the kids. I promise. It'll be Saturday night and I'll leave a little present for you about my going to my mom's shrink to discuss her becoming a Dominatrix after you come home from going out. Isn't that what people still do? Go out and engage. Everyone out together. Fireworks and other steam pipes blew in that shrink's office. Now that was engaging
End of Part one
Antoine Gets Shot,Takes Bus To Hospital
s, Work, Careers
Antoine is the kind of guy who spins his wheels, gains momentum and then crashes into the wall. He stands up, brushes the dirt off of himself and then goes and looks for another set of wheels to crash, sometimes into the same wall.
He used to be a Junkie but he was only a Junkie because he was caught up with looking for a wall to hit. If you're looking, you can find a lot of walls. He's a man addicted to the walls.
Antoine always has an excuse for why the most demented I Love Lucy meets Charles Manson type stuff can happen to him. Now, I know a lot of stuff happens to me but.... Well, anyway listen to what happened to Antoine yesterday.
Antoine is a basement boy. A basement boy is someone who is in their thirties or older and still lives in their parents basement. The basement boy has a stunted growth stuck in his head.Mommy, will still do the laundry. He'll owe a lot of people money. He is socially awkward and usually does not have a girlfriend. He may have a nice car or expensive electronics. This is Antoine.
So, he lives in the basement and hears the rain start. He left his boots out in the yard and he went to retrieve them because of the heavy thunderstorms beginning. The door slammed behind him and locked. He was in the heavy rain , in his boxers and boots. He climbed over a neighbors yard and was shot in the leg. The gun was a small caliber. He freaked out and went running into the street. He knew that he needed to get to the hospital but instead of using a public phone to call 911 he went to the White Castle for change of a twenty which hew kept in his boot, to catch the bus to Woodhull hospital.
While he was already in White Castle , he ordered five cheese burgers and a vanilla shake. So, he gets his change and gets on the bus which finally shows up. He tells the driver that he's been shot,
The driver is watching him eat his burgers and drink his shake.
The driver makes all his stops. Antoine complains but the driver points out that it can't be that serious if Antoine was willing to stop at the White Castle and get burgers and a shake. Antoine shrugs.
So, Antoine stays on the bus and now the bleeding is getting serious. He finally gets to the waiting room in the Emergency and instead of signing in, he meets an old Junkie friend of his who says that he can remove the bullet from his leg.
Antoine brings him to the Vortex and the guy fishes out the bullet in about 2 hours of screaming and mayhem. I get to the store and see all this blood. Antoine tells me the events which led to this insanity. I tell him to put on some pants and get some Hydrogen Peroxide and real bandages.... Anyway, if you came to the store yesterday and was surprized that it was closed. It was due to inclement thinking.
Antoine is the kind of guy who spins his wheels, gains momentum and then crashes into the wall. He stands up, brushes the dirt off of himself and then goes and looks for another set of wheels to crash, sometimes into the same wall.
He used to be a Junkie but he was only a Junkie because he was caught up with looking for a wall to hit. If you're looking, you can find a lot of walls. He's a man addicted to the walls.
Antoine always has an excuse for why the most demented I Love Lucy meets Charles Manson type stuff can happen to him. Now, I know a lot of stuff happens to me but.... Well, anyway listen to what happened to Antoine yesterday.
Antoine is a basement boy. A basement boy is someone who is in their thirties or older and still lives in their parents basement. The basement boy has a stunted growth stuck in his head.Mommy, will still do the laundry. He'll owe a lot of people money. He is socially awkward and usually does not have a girlfriend. He may have a nice car or expensive electronics. This is Antoine.
So, he lives in the basement and hears the rain start. He left his boots out in the yard and he went to retrieve them because of the heavy thunderstorms beginning. The door slammed behind him and locked. He was in the heavy rain , in his boxers and boots. He climbed over a neighbors yard and was shot in the leg. The gun was a small caliber. He freaked out and went running into the street. He knew that he needed to get to the hospital but instead of using a public phone to call 911 he went to the White Castle for change of a twenty which hew kept in his boot, to catch the bus to Woodhull hospital.
While he was already in White Castle , he ordered five cheese burgers and a vanilla shake. So, he gets his change and gets on the bus which finally shows up. He tells the driver that he's been shot,
The driver is watching him eat his burgers and drink his shake.
The driver makes all his stops. Antoine complains but the driver points out that it can't be that serious if Antoine was willing to stop at the White Castle and get burgers and a shake. Antoine shrugs.
So, Antoine stays on the bus and now the bleeding is getting serious. He finally gets to the waiting room in the Emergency and instead of signing in, he meets an old Junkie friend of his who says that he can remove the bullet from his leg.
Antoine brings him to the Vortex and the guy fishes out the bullet in about 2 hours of screaming and mayhem. I get to the store and see all this blood. Antoine tells me the events which led to this insanity. I tell him to put on some pants and get some Hydrogen Peroxide and real bandages.... Anyway, if you came to the store yesterday and was surprized that it was closed. It was due to inclement thinking.
My Mother's Rabbi Eats Spam For Breakfast
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
"It's not kosher and it shouldn't be in a shul. Spam is a pork product. I want you should wrap it up and take it with you," the elder Rabbi Lipschitz gesticulated.
"Rabbi, the spam is not food. You've been pushing every button and allowing every virus into this computer. It's only two weeks old and it's acting like it's a hundred years old," the poor kid technician with acne said.
"With age comes wisdom."
What an idiot I thought. I'm glad I brought Zane with me. He was acting as a buffer between the triangulization which both the Rabbi and the techy wanted from me. I wasn't falling for it. None of my business. In fact, I thought I was going to see the younger Lipschitz, who I grew up with. In fact, the elder Lipschitz blamed me for the younger Rabbi's early years of rabble rousing. Sammy Lipschitz the son was on summer vacation.
The young twitching techy said, "You are the ground zero for computer age.You are going to bring us back to the stone age." I thought the kid was going to cry as he sat at the keyboard and kept slamming away at keys, How did you do this?"
"I opened it up and I took it out and then I put it back."
"What are you looking for?
"Terrorists, there's terrorists in this machine.When ,I'm on the street and I meet up with a terrorist, I use my mace. With computers, I want to send my army in and see what kind of monster I am dealing with."
The kid shook his head and looked at me. I bounced Zane on my lap and made googily sounds. Not my business.
"Please, stay off the porn sites and the weird stuff. Your son is coming back next week and I promised him a fast speed computer.
I missed Rabbi Sammy Lipschitz. I don't get to see him enough. Old friend, we were bar mitzvahed together. We also went to Queens College together, before Sammy got the calling.
"The only reason I went on these places was to understand the young ones. I don't understand even more now.I don't even recognize the sex. It looks different from what I remember.
The kid teckie did not know what hit him. He did not understand our tribe. He said, Can I get paid now? You still owe me for the other two times I came here."
"I told you when my son gets back. He's allowed to go on vacation. Every Rabbi is entitled to a little time off. After all, we even work on the Sabbath. We're the only ones. The big boy even takes the day off. So, can you blame my son for taking a vaca..."
He got cut off, " I have to go back with some money.
The old man looked my way. He wiggled his fingers at me. I stood up and fumbled for my wallet, as I juggled Zane. Finally, I grudgingly pulled out a twenty.
He jiggled his fingers for more. I pulled out a fifty and handed it to him. Before, I could ask for the twenty back, the money was in the kids hands and he shot out the door.
"So, how are you and the kids?"
I sighed,"Having two is more trouble than I expected."
"Listen, this is not about you and what you think. I know how you rabble rousing self hating Jews,with your tatoos and your pork eating, think. This is not about thinking. This is about your mother and the new business she's starting. I know nothing of these Domino tricks, but I know she has a bad back and arthritis and these dominoes are small and cumbersome.
"Domino tricks?"
"Are you stupid. I always thought you were stupid. Even as a kid, you had a mule way about you."
"You're just still mad at me for the Lips Shits joke you heard me tell the kids on my Bar Mitzvah."
"I don't know any... What joke is that?"
"I said to the kids,'If his lip shits, my ass talks."
"Do you think I didn't remember that?"
"Then why did you ask me?"
"I thought maybe by now you would have shame about the joke, I've had to live with that joke for seventy two years with this stupid joke. You think you made that up. Every gangster in the Lower East Side used to say that to me and I kicked the shit out of them. You want to fight? I've let it go for thirty five years. My son heard you tell that joke too."
"He was laughing."
"He was laughing because you were turning him into a junkie."
"It was 1973. We ate some Hash brownies."
"You're a trouble maker and you've always been a trouble maker. Did the boy have a bris?"
"Yes, a beautiful ceremony with Doctor Meyer."
"Doctor, what do you mean Doctor? Not a moyal?"
"She was a Doctor and a Moyal."
"SHE? a woman performed the ceremony? We'll come back to this. I don't have all night."
I figured he wanted me out of there so he could do his research on porno for his congregation on the Internet.
"Your mother's new career. How could such a nice woman like your mom think that she can start to do domino tricks. She'll have to be on her hands and knees all day."
"She'll have slaves to do whatever she says."
"Mexicans?" he seemed perplexed.
"Alot of people will be willing to do whatever she says."
"She does have a dominating way about her. Maybe you're right. She said she already bought the outfit. It was quite expensive and she said a camera crew is doing a t.v. episode about her. Is she out of her league? She's just starting. Will she fall flat on her face."
"I think you and I both know that my mother is in a league of her own, and if she falls flat on her face, they'll be others underneath her to catch her." This was fun. I am a troublemaker.
Good, good," Rabbi Lipschitz said now distracted by his computer. I was almost out the door. I started packing Zane up to get home and get some sleep.
"Your mother wants you to meet with her and her shrink at her next appointment."
"Huh?"
"She told me not to tell you but I'll tell you. She wants to discuss your anti-semitism with her shrink."
"My anti-semitism?
"Yes, for thirty years, since your 'ass talks' days and the drugs in cake and your meshuganah tattoos of Alfred Newman. At least, it wasn't Adolph Hitler. Still a Jew with a tattoo that says,'What me Worry?' is worrisome and not so Jewish. Show me a Jew that doesn't worry. Go on show me 'Ass talks'. I'm from the Lower East Side. I kicked Lepke's ass. I kicked Meyer Lansky's ass... I kicked alot of ass. I can kick "Ass talks' ass.
"You're serious?"
" I can definately kick your ass."
"No, I mean about going to her shrink?"
"You're appointment is on Friday. Now, on another topic. Where is the babies foreskin?"
"We buried it in McGolrick Park in Greenpoint in a nice ceremony under a beautiful tree."
"Well, go dig it up. If you don't want your mother to think you're not anti-semetic, go get that foreskin. It shouldn't be buried with the Poles in Greenpoint. You must dig it up, and send it to Israel as a sign of support to Israel and your mother. It must nurish a tree in Israel."
"Do other people do that?"
"We're not talking about other people. We're talking about your identity."
When I got home, I handed off the baby to Dawn. My head was spinning.
Dawn asked,"How'd it go with Lip Shits?" she knew the joke.
My sorry ass had nothing to say.
Friday, I go to my mom's shrink. Stay tuned. It should be interesting
"It's not kosher and it shouldn't be in a shul. Spam is a pork product. I want you should wrap it up and take it with you," the elder Rabbi Lipschitz gesticulated.
"Rabbi, the spam is not food. You've been pushing every button and allowing every virus into this computer. It's only two weeks old and it's acting like it's a hundred years old," the poor kid technician with acne said.
"With age comes wisdom."
What an idiot I thought. I'm glad I brought Zane with me. He was acting as a buffer between the triangulization which both the Rabbi and the techy wanted from me. I wasn't falling for it. None of my business. In fact, I thought I was going to see the younger Lipschitz, who I grew up with. In fact, the elder Lipschitz blamed me for the younger Rabbi's early years of rabble rousing. Sammy Lipschitz the son was on summer vacation.
The young twitching techy said, "You are the ground zero for computer age.You are going to bring us back to the stone age." I thought the kid was going to cry as he sat at the keyboard and kept slamming away at keys, How did you do this?"
"I opened it up and I took it out and then I put it back."
"What are you looking for?
"Terrorists, there's terrorists in this machine.When ,I'm on the street and I meet up with a terrorist, I use my mace. With computers, I want to send my army in and see what kind of monster I am dealing with."
The kid shook his head and looked at me. I bounced Zane on my lap and made googily sounds. Not my business.
"Please, stay off the porn sites and the weird stuff. Your son is coming back next week and I promised him a fast speed computer.
I missed Rabbi Sammy Lipschitz. I don't get to see him enough. Old friend, we were bar mitzvahed together. We also went to Queens College together, before Sammy got the calling.
"The only reason I went on these places was to understand the young ones. I don't understand even more now.I don't even recognize the sex. It looks different from what I remember.
The kid teckie did not know what hit him. He did not understand our tribe. He said, Can I get paid now? You still owe me for the other two times I came here."
"I told you when my son gets back. He's allowed to go on vacation. Every Rabbi is entitled to a little time off. After all, we even work on the Sabbath. We're the only ones. The big boy even takes the day off. So, can you blame my son for taking a vaca..."
He got cut off, " I have to go back with some money.
The old man looked my way. He wiggled his fingers at me. I stood up and fumbled for my wallet, as I juggled Zane. Finally, I grudgingly pulled out a twenty.
He jiggled his fingers for more. I pulled out a fifty and handed it to him. Before, I could ask for the twenty back, the money was in the kids hands and he shot out the door.
"So, how are you and the kids?"
I sighed,"Having two is more trouble than I expected."
"Listen, this is not about you and what you think. I know how you rabble rousing self hating Jews,with your tatoos and your pork eating, think. This is not about thinking. This is about your mother and the new business she's starting. I know nothing of these Domino tricks, but I know she has a bad back and arthritis and these dominoes are small and cumbersome.
"Domino tricks?"
"Are you stupid. I always thought you were stupid. Even as a kid, you had a mule way about you."
"You're just still mad at me for the Lips Shits joke you heard me tell the kids on my Bar Mitzvah."
"I don't know any... What joke is that?"
"I said to the kids,'If his lip shits, my ass talks."
"Do you think I didn't remember that?"
"Then why did you ask me?"
"I thought maybe by now you would have shame about the joke, I've had to live with that joke for seventy two years with this stupid joke. You think you made that up. Every gangster in the Lower East Side used to say that to me and I kicked the shit out of them. You want to fight? I've let it go for thirty five years. My son heard you tell that joke too."
"He was laughing."
"He was laughing because you were turning him into a junkie."
"It was 1973. We ate some Hash brownies."
"You're a trouble maker and you've always been a trouble maker. Did the boy have a bris?"
"Yes, a beautiful ceremony with Doctor Meyer."
"Doctor, what do you mean Doctor? Not a moyal?"
"She was a Doctor and a Moyal."
"SHE? a woman performed the ceremony? We'll come back to this. I don't have all night."
I figured he wanted me out of there so he could do his research on porno for his congregation on the Internet.
"Your mother's new career. How could such a nice woman like your mom think that she can start to do domino tricks. She'll have to be on her hands and knees all day."
"She'll have slaves to do whatever she says."
"Mexicans?" he seemed perplexed.
"Alot of people will be willing to do whatever she says."
"She does have a dominating way about her. Maybe you're right. She said she already bought the outfit. It was quite expensive and she said a camera crew is doing a t.v. episode about her. Is she out of her league? She's just starting. Will she fall flat on her face."
"I think you and I both know that my mother is in a league of her own, and if she falls flat on her face, they'll be others underneath her to catch her." This was fun. I am a troublemaker.
Good, good," Rabbi Lipschitz said now distracted by his computer. I was almost out the door. I started packing Zane up to get home and get some sleep.
"Your mother wants you to meet with her and her shrink at her next appointment."
"Huh?"
"She told me not to tell you but I'll tell you. She wants to discuss your anti-semitism with her shrink."
"My anti-semitism?
"Yes, for thirty years, since your 'ass talks' days and the drugs in cake and your meshuganah tattoos of Alfred Newman. At least, it wasn't Adolph Hitler. Still a Jew with a tattoo that says,'What me Worry?' is worrisome and not so Jewish. Show me a Jew that doesn't worry. Go on show me 'Ass talks'. I'm from the Lower East Side. I kicked Lepke's ass. I kicked Meyer Lansky's ass... I kicked alot of ass. I can kick "Ass talks' ass.
"You're serious?"
" I can definately kick your ass."
"No, I mean about going to her shrink?"
"You're appointment is on Friday. Now, on another topic. Where is the babies foreskin?"
"We buried it in McGolrick Park in Greenpoint in a nice ceremony under a beautiful tree."
"Well, go dig it up. If you don't want your mother to think you're not anti-semetic, go get that foreskin. It shouldn't be buried with the Poles in Greenpoint. You must dig it up, and send it to Israel as a sign of support to Israel and your mother. It must nurish a tree in Israel."
"Do other people do that?"
"We're not talking about other people. We're talking about your identity."
When I got home, I handed off the baby to Dawn. My head was spinning.
Dawn asked,"How'd it go with Lip Shits?" she knew the joke.
My sorry ass had nothing to say.
Friday, I go to my mom's shrink. Stay tuned. It should be interesting
I Find A Finger With A Ring On It
I find a Finger with a Nice Ring on it
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Beware of what you wish for, you may not get it, and then you'll be bummed.
There is a schizm amongst my spacefriends. Half of you want more Woody and the Stuffed Shirts stories and half of you want constant updates on my mother's introduction into the bondage world. Maybe those makeover t.v. people know what they are talking about, and my mom will have a hit show with her becoming a Dominatrix in her retirement years. My mother made me go with her to get bondage clothes and later this week she wants me to discuss her bondage career with her Rabbi. As you can imagine, I'm really not looking foward to that. Tonight, I thought I'd tell you a little story about Woody and our first Holmesian type mystery. We solved a bunch of crimes in the East Village when we worked together in the Junkshop. Of course, at the time, I did not know Woody was an Agent Provocateur. We would bet money on cases as to who would solve them first.Woody always won. I had no idea he was getting information from the FBI, the CIA and any other intelligence agency in the world. I was getting information from Crack Whores, Junkman, Bohemians and a whino cop. Who'd you put your money on? I held my own, but to this day I still own Woody money. A considerable bit. I've decided to welch on paying Woody because of his dirty little secrets. He suggests I pay up.
A little background on Woody : His physique is slight, He stands five foot eight inches in his top hat and he always wore his top hat. Do not be decieved by his slightness for he has a sleight of hand as well. He also had a considedrable punch. Let's not forget that Bruce Lee was a little guy as well as Buster Keaton.
Woody, also lived his life in another time zone. Agent Provocateur or not, Woody lived in a different time zone and though he moved very slowly, or not at all, he was able to cover a lot of ground. He almost sounds like a superhero. So be it, Woody had superhero qualities. Good and bad. Let me give you an example
Woody's training as an Agent Provocateur allowed him to stand in one place for considerable lengths of time without movement. Imagine, the turn of the 19th century when a photographer made you stand and wait for a flash. That was Woody. Now, as you know, I can chatter incessintly about nothing important but I like to think it's clever. So, do you have the setup? We were like a strange vaudeville act. He stands there with no movement and my arms are flailing excidedly as I gesticulate about chicken ass, "Now, Woody you can go to the supermarket and buy every imaginable bag of chicken parts. You can buy your chicken feet, you can buy your chicken gizzards, you can buy twenty pounds of chicken liver for a quarter a pound, but no shop anywhere can you buy chicken ass."
Now, when I'm riffing like this and there are other people in the store, Woody barely breathes and I'm flying. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a beautiful girl standing there with her jaw dropping. Now, I see this as an opportunity to show off, or what I think is showing off. We're like Penn and Teller. I feel like I have this woman in the palm of my hand, "Now, chicken ass is way under rated. They usually throw no part of an animal out. What are they doing with all the chicken ass? Answer me Woody, what are they doing with the delectible chicken ass?"
Barely moving, "I am a vegetarian, but you may be the only one concerned about chicken ass in this day and age."
The beautiful blonde screamed,"I thought you were a crazy man talking to a mannequin and then he moved and talked. She turned and ran out the store.
She's mine I thought. She dropped something on her way out the door. I went to pick it up and jumped back as if it were a snake hissing at me. It was a finger with a ring on it. Suddenly, Woody was in motion. He picked up the finger with no hesitation. He was more interested in examining the ring than the finger. The finger was stiff and he put some muscle to the ring and finger and seperated the two. He flipped the ring to me and threw the finger in the garbage.
"That's your reaction? A woman drops a finger in the store and your reaction is to seperate the two and throw the finger out. I'm sure there's someone very interested in that finger."
"The finger is no good. It's too old and Flip doesn't even want the ring anymore. He told me so himself this morning at five thirty."
Wait... What am I missing here? You know the owner of the finger and the ring and it doesn't matter?
"That is correct."
"How can that be correct? How can someone not care about his finger?"
"He told me his finger was getting in the way anyway."
"Getting in the way of what?
"The rest of his hand."
"Woody, I feel like you're fucking with me. Just like they don't sell chicken ass in the supermarket, you are making a hard sell on Flip's finger."
"Last night Flip threw up in the wrong girl's mouth and then his finger was cut off and he was dragged down to a stop sign on Avenue A and tenth street and duct taped to that stop sign. I cut him down with the other Stuffed Shirts at five thirty this morning..."
"What! What are you talking about. I want to go talk to Flip and give him his ring back."
"We can go talk to Flip because I still need some information from him but he doesn't want the ring."
"Chicken Ass," I said."
"He doesn't want it."
"Why not?"
"Its cursed."
"What do you mean he threw up in the wrong girl's mouth?"
"He's missing his finger right."
End of PartI We talk to Flip next time
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Beware of what you wish for, you may not get it, and then you'll be bummed.
There is a schizm amongst my spacefriends. Half of you want more Woody and the Stuffed Shirts stories and half of you want constant updates on my mother's introduction into the bondage world. Maybe those makeover t.v. people know what they are talking about, and my mom will have a hit show with her becoming a Dominatrix in her retirement years. My mother made me go with her to get bondage clothes and later this week she wants me to discuss her bondage career with her Rabbi. As you can imagine, I'm really not looking foward to that. Tonight, I thought I'd tell you a little story about Woody and our first Holmesian type mystery. We solved a bunch of crimes in the East Village when we worked together in the Junkshop. Of course, at the time, I did not know Woody was an Agent Provocateur. We would bet money on cases as to who would solve them first.Woody always won. I had no idea he was getting information from the FBI, the CIA and any other intelligence agency in the world. I was getting information from Crack Whores, Junkman, Bohemians and a whino cop. Who'd you put your money on? I held my own, but to this day I still own Woody money. A considerable bit. I've decided to welch on paying Woody because of his dirty little secrets. He suggests I pay up.
A little background on Woody : His physique is slight, He stands five foot eight inches in his top hat and he always wore his top hat. Do not be decieved by his slightness for he has a sleight of hand as well. He also had a considedrable punch. Let's not forget that Bruce Lee was a little guy as well as Buster Keaton.
Woody, also lived his life in another time zone. Agent Provocateur or not, Woody lived in a different time zone and though he moved very slowly, or not at all, he was able to cover a lot of ground. He almost sounds like a superhero. So be it, Woody had superhero qualities. Good and bad. Let me give you an example
Woody's training as an Agent Provocateur allowed him to stand in one place for considerable lengths of time without movement. Imagine, the turn of the 19th century when a photographer made you stand and wait for a flash. That was Woody. Now, as you know, I can chatter incessintly about nothing important but I like to think it's clever. So, do you have the setup? We were like a strange vaudeville act. He stands there with no movement and my arms are flailing excidedly as I gesticulate about chicken ass, "Now, Woody you can go to the supermarket and buy every imaginable bag of chicken parts. You can buy your chicken feet, you can buy your chicken gizzards, you can buy twenty pounds of chicken liver for a quarter a pound, but no shop anywhere can you buy chicken ass."
Now, when I'm riffing like this and there are other people in the store, Woody barely breathes and I'm flying. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a beautiful girl standing there with her jaw dropping. Now, I see this as an opportunity to show off, or what I think is showing off. We're like Penn and Teller. I feel like I have this woman in the palm of my hand, "Now, chicken ass is way under rated. They usually throw no part of an animal out. What are they doing with all the chicken ass? Answer me Woody, what are they doing with the delectible chicken ass?"
Barely moving, "I am a vegetarian, but you may be the only one concerned about chicken ass in this day and age."
The beautiful blonde screamed,"I thought you were a crazy man talking to a mannequin and then he moved and talked. She turned and ran out the store.
She's mine I thought. She dropped something on her way out the door. I went to pick it up and jumped back as if it were a snake hissing at me. It was a finger with a ring on it. Suddenly, Woody was in motion. He picked up the finger with no hesitation. He was more interested in examining the ring than the finger. The finger was stiff and he put some muscle to the ring and finger and seperated the two. He flipped the ring to me and threw the finger in the garbage.
"That's your reaction? A woman drops a finger in the store and your reaction is to seperate the two and throw the finger out. I'm sure there's someone very interested in that finger."
"The finger is no good. It's too old and Flip doesn't even want the ring anymore. He told me so himself this morning at five thirty."
Wait... What am I missing here? You know the owner of the finger and the ring and it doesn't matter?
"That is correct."
"How can that be correct? How can someone not care about his finger?"
"He told me his finger was getting in the way anyway."
"Getting in the way of what?
"The rest of his hand."
"Woody, I feel like you're fucking with me. Just like they don't sell chicken ass in the supermarket, you are making a hard sell on Flip's finger."
"Last night Flip threw up in the wrong girl's mouth and then his finger was cut off and he was dragged down to a stop sign on Avenue A and tenth street and duct taped to that stop sign. I cut him down with the other Stuffed Shirts at five thirty this morning..."
"What! What are you talking about. I want to go talk to Flip and give him his ring back."
"We can go talk to Flip because I still need some information from him but he doesn't want the ring."
"Chicken Ass," I said."
"He doesn't want it."
"Why not?"
"Its cursed."
"What do you mean he threw up in the wrong girl's mouth?"
"He's missing his finger right."
End of PartI We talk to Flip next time
My Mother Becomes A Dominatrix Part II
My Mother becomes a Dominatrix: Part II
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
My mom showed up at the dungeon I was cleaning out, unannounced.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" I told you I'd bring Zane over to your apartment when I was done working."
"Is this a wine and cheese cellar?" my mother asked, looking around at all the contraptions and the Boar's head on the wall.
Wicked Wanda chimed in,"Oh most definately cheese and yes most definately whining going on."
My mother tried catching Zane as he spun around on the cucking stool. She couldn't reach him and as Zane spun around the room and got close to me, I gave him a harder push and cranked the lever higher, so that my mom would never be able to reach him, "This boy does not sleep. I have found an ancient machine which has spun him into dreamland. I want this kid sleeping. As I've told you many times,'Do not shit on my dreams and I don't shit on yours.' "
"Such language," my mom said and started to cry.
"Cool it with the language Daddy-O," Wicked Wanda said. "This is your mother."
I was in shock. Wicked Wanda was taking my mother's side. So in a calm voice, I turned to my mother and asked, "How did you find me?"
"I called Dawn, and told her that you told me to meet you at the Wine Cellar, and that I lost the address. I'm here because I want to see my grandson and you keep him away from me. Hand me my grandson."
I slowed down the contraption and watched Wicked Wanda giving me the hairy eyeball. Now, Wicked Wanda has been eyeballing me for twenty years. For many years, I believed she had a thing for me and man she is knock out beauty queen gorgeous.Tall blonde, smart with a great body. So for years, I was always impressed with how hard she looked at me. I thought she wanted me for my brains and how hard a working stiff I was. Over time, I realized she might want to eat my brains and the only thing she wanted was to slide her hands over my very hairy body because... she had a thing for hairy bodies and I'm the man... or cro magnon man when it comes to hairy. It's hard to see skin on my body. I'm the cousin It man. Wicked Wanda wanted to skin me and hang me on her wall, right next to her Boar's head. Maybe I should suggest this to the decorating show which was coming to do a makeover on Wicked Wanda's Dungeon.
My mother, now holding Zane who was wide awake, continued to harrass me, "You look terrible. You need a haircut. You're hunched over. The boy is getting dirty down here. You shouldn't bring him with you to work. Doesn't Dawn do anything?"
"Dawn and Sadie are fine too," I said, pretending my mother was normal and asking normal questions. They're home together doing mother, daughter bonding. Sadie loves her brother but doesn't get as much attention as she was before Zane was born. So she acts out a little. She'll throw shit all over the place..."
"Language!" Wicked Wanda said to me sternly.
"I like this woman, she's got pizazz," my mother said . My mother was tring to figure out Wicked Wanda's outfit. Wicked Wanda was in a laid back, day off from the S&M world kind of rubber bondagie kind of outfit. Red and blacks
"Your mom's great."
"Can you turn down the air conditioning and turn on the heat?"
"Of course."
I continued working and now I was sweating from the heat being turned on ,on a hot summer day. Wicked Wanda, my mother and baby Zane were actually sitting and eating nice wine and cheese. Lots of laughing, some hooting and hollering. Finally, I was done. The makover people from the t.v. show were coming over to the dungeon and I wanted to take my kid and my cucking stool out of there, before they got there... Too late. They arrived and they all sat and had a good ole time. More wine was served and I just shook my head.
I walked over to Zane who was crying and changed him. My mom was passed out in a chair,"O.K. Wanda, I'm done here. Thanks for being so nice to my mom. I know she can be difficult."
"She's perfect. She's just what I've been looking for. She's going to come work for me."
I stood there dumbfounded. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Your mom has agreed to go into training with me, in order for her to become a Dominatrix."
How can she be perfect. I mean she's been torturing me my whole life but..."
"Exactly, she has experience. Life experience in S&M is gold. The makeover people want to put her in the show and watch her progress."
"What kind of fucking show is this?"
"No cursing," my mom slurred as she lifted her head and then dropped it back on the ground. I heard it bounce.
"Who are her clients? Who wants to go to a Baubie. A jewish Grandma. She's seventy years old. What is she the Baubie from Stalag 13."
Wendy went running for a pen. Great name. I saw the t.v producers writing it down too. I accidentally had christened my mom her Dominatrix name.
"Who would want my mom as a Dominatrix?"
"Are you kidding, look at her?."
I looked at my mom passed out on the ground with drool coming out her mouth. She's a small jewish Holocaust survivor. She has a small frame. She's in good shape but I wasn't getting it.
"Who doesn't want your mother. She's going to be in hot demand. The city is full of Israeli's. She speaks hebrew. There's Russian jews, she speaks Russian. She's dark skinned, so she looks Middle Eastern., I could dress her as an arab... She speaks yiddish. Do you have any idea how many Rabbi's come to me? The Germans will love to be punished by her. The Poles, they are cheap though... She's going to be a Dominatrix star. Everyone will want to be punished by your mother."
"You mean, I won't be the only one anymore."
"I'm sure she'll still punish you for free."
I looked at the t.v. producers smiling up at me and giving me a thumbs up. I looked at Wicked Wanda who now was rubbing my hairy arm and looking as if she was going to skin me alive. I looked at my mother passed out on the floor. I looked at my boy Zane and said, "Don't shit on my dreams and I won't shit on yours."
"No cursing," everybody screamed at once. Zane's eyebrows were furled.
End Part II More to come next week
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
My mom showed up at the dungeon I was cleaning out, unannounced.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" I told you I'd bring Zane over to your apartment when I was done working."
"Is this a wine and cheese cellar?" my mother asked, looking around at all the contraptions and the Boar's head on the wall.
Wicked Wanda chimed in,"Oh most definately cheese and yes most definately whining going on."
My mother tried catching Zane as he spun around on the cucking stool. She couldn't reach him and as Zane spun around the room and got close to me, I gave him a harder push and cranked the lever higher, so that my mom would never be able to reach him, "This boy does not sleep. I have found an ancient machine which has spun him into dreamland. I want this kid sleeping. As I've told you many times,'Do not shit on my dreams and I don't shit on yours.' "
"Such language," my mom said and started to cry.
"Cool it with the language Daddy-O," Wicked Wanda said. "This is your mother."
I was in shock. Wicked Wanda was taking my mother's side. So in a calm voice, I turned to my mother and asked, "How did you find me?"
"I called Dawn, and told her that you told me to meet you at the Wine Cellar, and that I lost the address. I'm here because I want to see my grandson and you keep him away from me. Hand me my grandson."
I slowed down the contraption and watched Wicked Wanda giving me the hairy eyeball. Now, Wicked Wanda has been eyeballing me for twenty years. For many years, I believed she had a thing for me and man she is knock out beauty queen gorgeous.Tall blonde, smart with a great body. So for years, I was always impressed with how hard she looked at me. I thought she wanted me for my brains and how hard a working stiff I was. Over time, I realized she might want to eat my brains and the only thing she wanted was to slide her hands over my very hairy body because... she had a thing for hairy bodies and I'm the man... or cro magnon man when it comes to hairy. It's hard to see skin on my body. I'm the cousin It man. Wicked Wanda wanted to skin me and hang me on her wall, right next to her Boar's head. Maybe I should suggest this to the decorating show which was coming to do a makeover on Wicked Wanda's Dungeon.
My mother, now holding Zane who was wide awake, continued to harrass me, "You look terrible. You need a haircut. You're hunched over. The boy is getting dirty down here. You shouldn't bring him with you to work. Doesn't Dawn do anything?"
"Dawn and Sadie are fine too," I said, pretending my mother was normal and asking normal questions. They're home together doing mother, daughter bonding. Sadie loves her brother but doesn't get as much attention as she was before Zane was born. So she acts out a little. She'll throw shit all over the place..."
"Language!" Wicked Wanda said to me sternly.
"I like this woman, she's got pizazz," my mother said . My mother was tring to figure out Wicked Wanda's outfit. Wicked Wanda was in a laid back, day off from the S&M world kind of rubber bondagie kind of outfit. Red and blacks
"Your mom's great."
"Can you turn down the air conditioning and turn on the heat?"
"Of course."
I continued working and now I was sweating from the heat being turned on ,on a hot summer day. Wicked Wanda, my mother and baby Zane were actually sitting and eating nice wine and cheese. Lots of laughing, some hooting and hollering. Finally, I was done. The makover people from the t.v. show were coming over to the dungeon and I wanted to take my kid and my cucking stool out of there, before they got there... Too late. They arrived and they all sat and had a good ole time. More wine was served and I just shook my head.
I walked over to Zane who was crying and changed him. My mom was passed out in a chair,"O.K. Wanda, I'm done here. Thanks for being so nice to my mom. I know she can be difficult."
"She's perfect. She's just what I've been looking for. She's going to come work for me."
I stood there dumbfounded. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Your mom has agreed to go into training with me, in order for her to become a Dominatrix."
How can she be perfect. I mean she's been torturing me my whole life but..."
"Exactly, she has experience. Life experience in S&M is gold. The makeover people want to put her in the show and watch her progress."
"What kind of fucking show is this?"
"No cursing," my mom slurred as she lifted her head and then dropped it back on the ground. I heard it bounce.
"Who are her clients? Who wants to go to a Baubie. A jewish Grandma. She's seventy years old. What is she the Baubie from Stalag 13."
Wendy went running for a pen. Great name. I saw the t.v producers writing it down too. I accidentally had christened my mom her Dominatrix name.
"Who would want my mom as a Dominatrix?"
"Are you kidding, look at her?."
I looked at my mom passed out on the ground with drool coming out her mouth. She's a small jewish Holocaust survivor. She has a small frame. She's in good shape but I wasn't getting it.
"Who doesn't want your mother. She's going to be in hot demand. The city is full of Israeli's. She speaks hebrew. There's Russian jews, she speaks Russian. She's dark skinned, so she looks Middle Eastern., I could dress her as an arab... She speaks yiddish. Do you have any idea how many Rabbi's come to me? The Germans will love to be punished by her. The Poles, they are cheap though... She's going to be a Dominatrix star. Everyone will want to be punished by your mother."
"You mean, I won't be the only one anymore."
"I'm sure she'll still punish you for free."
I looked at the t.v. producers smiling up at me and giving me a thumbs up. I looked at Wicked Wanda who now was rubbing my hairy arm and looking as if she was going to skin me alive. I looked at my mother passed out on the floor. I looked at my boy Zane and said, "Don't shit on my dreams and I won't shit on yours."
"No cursing," everybody screamed at once. Zane's eyebrows were furled.
End Part II More to come next week
My Mother Becomes A Dominatrix
My Mother becomes a Dominatrix
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
A beautiful Saturday in New York, but I have to spend half the day in Wicked Wendy's dungeon in Chelsea. I'm working, cleaning out Wicked Wendy's dungeon for a new interior design show. Wendy is an old friend of mine and she's very excited that some new show is going to "pimp" her dungeon. I kind of liked it the way it was. Simple torture devices, weird, ancient looking contraptions like a cucking stool and stock. Standard, "Pit and the Pendulum," ropes and blades, old candlesticks and a Boar's head on the wall. Love it...Just what exactly "pimping a dungeon means in today's Crate and Barrel world does not sound horrible but does sound safe.
The first half of the day is the easy stuff. I could clean out Wicked Wendy's dungeon out with my eyes closed... To tell you the truth it was very dark and quite cool in there.I couldn't see much and I felt like going to sleep in one of the gyrating cucking stools.
I brought my 3 month old baby boy with me; to help me of course. This boy does not sleep, he does not sleep and he does not cry. He constantly feeds. So, to give Dawn a break, I brought the boy with me,and I brought plenty of pumped breast milk. The boy is developing fast. He has a maniacal smile like his dad and kicks a lot in his sleep, as does his dad. I left my beautiful two year old daughter at home. I would only have brought her to this job, were it a demolition one.She is not a terrible two, so much as a Ivan the terrible two. She slowly is breaking down the parents will to live as she smotes down her enemies in exhorbitant numbers.Mahem, mixed again with her father's maniacal laughter. She will be quite a force to deal with for years to come.
The second half of the day will be the killer job. My mother lives in Chelsea, and I will walk over to her building for a visit with the boy. Work is the easy part of any day. Other people are stressful. My mother is a handful. You'll see. Let's move on a little with the first half. Um... Not yet.
First, let me tell you about my intimate relationship with the good folk of S&M. Whenever, I clean out a Funeral Parlor, the S&M crowd my store as if it were Black Friday at Macy's. There's a feeding frenzy till every last casket, and ghoulish ancient medical instrument is gone. If this were a football game, I would be the quaterback hero who threw the winning touchdown pass. Of course, the Horror folk are there as well. I haven't had a good Funeral Parlor in a couple of years. I must find a Funeral Parlor getting ready to get "pimped." They can have their Ikea caskets. I'll take Victorian anyday.
So, the job was moving along. Some good stuff for the store and Ebay. I mostly held Zane, but when I needed to change him, I put him in a small contraption. I guess it was a cucking stool but it had a whirligig gizmo that spun the boy around in many different directions. I slowed down the machine and changed the boy. I noticed a big smile on his face, so that after I changed him and fed him I put him back in this whirligig gizmo cucking stool and cranked it up. It had a wooden gear and a clicking sound as the gear shifted.
The boy flew around the room and was very happy... and then he went to sleep. The boy went to sleep. This ancient contraption was coming home with me. Dawn and I would have our sleep. This boy Zane would no longer have the cult like control over our lives. Yes, this contraption would take up most of the apartment but it would be worth it.
My good fortune. Oh, my good fortune. Sing it sister. Then the second half of the day began before noon.
Wicked Wanda came into the room, briefly watched Zane shuttle around the room and announced, "I don't know how, but your mother is here."
"My mother is here in the dungeon?
" Yes, she just got here and already is asking that I turn on the heat for her bones. It's July."
"She has arthritis." I said defensively and then wondered what she was doing here and how she got here.
My mother pushed her way into the room,"Get that boy out of that shit. He's not in Coney Island. You look terrible Larry, that woman does not take care of you.
End, the very End of Part I
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
A beautiful Saturday in New York, but I have to spend half the day in Wicked Wendy's dungeon in Chelsea. I'm working, cleaning out Wicked Wendy's dungeon for a new interior design show. Wendy is an old friend of mine and she's very excited that some new show is going to "pimp" her dungeon. I kind of liked it the way it was. Simple torture devices, weird, ancient looking contraptions like a cucking stool and stock. Standard, "Pit and the Pendulum," ropes and blades, old candlesticks and a Boar's head on the wall. Love it...Just what exactly "pimping a dungeon means in today's Crate and Barrel world does not sound horrible but does sound safe.
The first half of the day is the easy stuff. I could clean out Wicked Wendy's dungeon out with my eyes closed... To tell you the truth it was very dark and quite cool in there.I couldn't see much and I felt like going to sleep in one of the gyrating cucking stools.
I brought my 3 month old baby boy with me; to help me of course. This boy does not sleep, he does not sleep and he does not cry. He constantly feeds. So, to give Dawn a break, I brought the boy with me,and I brought plenty of pumped breast milk. The boy is developing fast. He has a maniacal smile like his dad and kicks a lot in his sleep, as does his dad. I left my beautiful two year old daughter at home. I would only have brought her to this job, were it a demolition one.She is not a terrible two, so much as a Ivan the terrible two. She slowly is breaking down the parents will to live as she smotes down her enemies in exhorbitant numbers.Mahem, mixed again with her father's maniacal laughter. She will be quite a force to deal with for years to come.
The second half of the day will be the killer job. My mother lives in Chelsea, and I will walk over to her building for a visit with the boy. Work is the easy part of any day. Other people are stressful. My mother is a handful. You'll see. Let's move on a little with the first half. Um... Not yet.
First, let me tell you about my intimate relationship with the good folk of S&M. Whenever, I clean out a Funeral Parlor, the S&M crowd my store as if it were Black Friday at Macy's. There's a feeding frenzy till every last casket, and ghoulish ancient medical instrument is gone. If this were a football game, I would be the quaterback hero who threw the winning touchdown pass. Of course, the Horror folk are there as well. I haven't had a good Funeral Parlor in a couple of years. I must find a Funeral Parlor getting ready to get "pimped." They can have their Ikea caskets. I'll take Victorian anyday.
So, the job was moving along. Some good stuff for the store and Ebay. I mostly held Zane, but when I needed to change him, I put him in a small contraption. I guess it was a cucking stool but it had a whirligig gizmo that spun the boy around in many different directions. I slowed down the machine and changed the boy. I noticed a big smile on his face, so that after I changed him and fed him I put him back in this whirligig gizmo cucking stool and cranked it up. It had a wooden gear and a clicking sound as the gear shifted.
The boy flew around the room and was very happy... and then he went to sleep. The boy went to sleep. This ancient contraption was coming home with me. Dawn and I would have our sleep. This boy Zane would no longer have the cult like control over our lives. Yes, this contraption would take up most of the apartment but it would be worth it.
My good fortune. Oh, my good fortune. Sing it sister. Then the second half of the day began before noon.
Wicked Wanda came into the room, briefly watched Zane shuttle around the room and announced, "I don't know how, but your mother is here."
"My mother is here in the dungeon?
" Yes, she just got here and already is asking that I turn on the heat for her bones. It's July."
"She has arthritis." I said defensively and then wondered what she was doing here and how she got here.
My mother pushed her way into the room,"Get that boy out of that shit. He's not in Coney Island. You look terrible Larry, that woman does not take care of you.
End, the very End of Part I
Friday, July 13, 2007
Frydazed the thirteenth
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Have I not had a rough week? I drank polluted water, trying to retrieve money my wife hid from me, in urns I threw out in the East River... I just wanted to do the laundry yesterday and instead I get kidnapped and brought to a doctor for his first vasectomy and certainly my last. So, today I wanted to lay low. I'm not a superstitious person but if you've been reading about my life, laying low would be a good idea today... Not to be. Today was the weirdest day of all.
Me and Antoine were running the shop in the morning and then I was going to take Dawn to see Harry Potter. She loves Harry Potter. She'd be a witch except she doen't have the patience or time to learn the craft. ( Sometimes, I catch her casting spells on me.) My mother- in- law was coming to the house to watch the kids, and Dawn and I were going to go out for the first time since... we were going out, about seven years ago.We've been very busy domesticating ourselves and learning to piss on paper. (I don't know exactly what that means.) Let's cut to the weirdness of the day shall we. That's what we are here for .
Cut to the chase: So, the upstairs tenant comes running down into the store screaming that the heat is on in her apartment and it killed her old dog. She's screaming and carrying on, as I call the landlord to see what's going on. I tell Antoine to go upstairs and report back to me. Is the dog dead?. Are the heaters on?. What the fuck is going on?... I want to go to an air conditioned movie house and chill. I mean for two and half hours, I want that Harry Potter to have more shit happen to him than what happens to me in a week. I was looking foward to someone else having problems that seemed unholy. I don't want to deal with dead dogs in the heat and crazy old ladies carrying on. Is that too much to ask for? Yes, my friends that was too much to ask for.
Antoine is a really good guy, but he used to take a lot of drugs. A ton. A lot of heroin but that's not all... He's a big gawky burn out from too many years of day in and day out trying to score drugs. That my friends is a twenty four seven job. I don't think it's the drugs which ruin you so much as the trying to acquire the money for the drugs and then the actual acquiring of the drugs. I'm sure the affects of drugs have a part but I'm not so convinced that the drug ruins you. It's all the running around
Anyway, Antoine comes back downstairs white as a ghost, "The dog is dead. The heat is on, and the lady is hysterical."
I finally get ahold of the landlord who informs me that the boiler room is acting up. Something about the water in the radiator never got drained and so the hot water is still running through the radiator pipes.
"The plumber will be there tomorrow."
The old lady came back down into the store wailing away. She collapsed on the ground.
"Antoine, we can not have this lady lying on the ground in the store.
Go to the deli and get a couple of empty boxes, a case of Brooklyn Brown Ale and five bags of ice."
Antoine made a couple of trips back and forth from the deli,"Now what?" he asked.
Get the birthday wrapping paper from the back of the store."
"Now what?
"Take the lady upstairs with you and the ice. Get her drinking water. Turn the fans on and have the ice in front of the fan. Take the dead dog and put him in this box and bring it downstairs to me, I'll call ASPCA to come get him or whatever agency it is. Hurry up because Dawn will be here soon and it will be my only half a day off this year."
Antoine took off with the box and the ice and the old lady. I was feeling pretty smug about myself. What a great troubleshooter I was. And now for my piece the resistance. I put my six pack in a box and then put wrapping paper around it. This is how I have always been able to get beer into a movie theater. No one ever asked me to open up a box which was a "present for a party after the movie." Sheer genius.I used to sneak chinese food into a theater that way too.
Antoine finally came back downstairs as I held onto the phone trying to get some agency to take the defunct animal away.
"I gotta talk to you," he said
"Yes," I said. "Is the lady o.k.?"
"I wrapped the dog in plastic and put it in the box like you said."
"I never said anything about plastic, but I guess that was smart with the heat and all."
"When I picked him up to put him in the plastic he was warm."
I dropped the phone,"Where's the box, where's the box1."
"I wrapped the plastic pretty tight."
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the box. Antoine had wrapped the box with wrapping paper, "Why did you wrap the dog in wrapping paper?"
"Why did you ask me to get wrapping paper?
"Not for a dead dog. That was for my beer, so I could get my beer into the movie theater."
"How could you be multi-tasking in the middle of a crisis?" he asked sincerly.
"Well, the dog is dead now... Don't you know rigor mortis sets in pretty quick in a little animal. The dog was overheated or in a coma but not dead. There's no way the dog wouldn't be stiff . She said he died last night. We killed this dog."
"It's the ladies fault."
"An animal is not dead when its warm."
It's over a hundred degrees in that apartment, the ladies screaming and wailing. It was a very difficult situation for me to be in. She said the dog has been dead since last night. Why wouldn't I believe her?."
Dawn walked into the store,"Now what?" she asked. We're going to the movie right?"
"Yes, but its going to be a double date."
As the lights went down low, I shifted the box to my lap and looked at my wife who was esctatic to be at a new Harry Potter movie. I looked to my left at the old lady next to me. She had calmed down but was still wiping her nose with a very ratty tissue. Antoine was next to her, gawking at the screen. I went to open my beer and then had a fleeting worrisome moment that the box on the sidewalk for the animal people had a six pack of beer in it and the old ladies very dead dog was in my lap. Nah. I ripped open my present and opened up my six pack. I passed one to the old lady and one to my wife but never to Antoine.
Frydazed the thirteenth
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Have I not had a rough week? I drank polluted water, trying to retrieve money my wife hid from me, in urns I threw out in the East River... I just wanted to do the laundry yesterday and instead I get kidnapped and brought to a doctor for his first vasectomy and certainly my last. So, today I wanted to lay low. I'm not a superstitious person but if you've been reading about my life, laying low would be a good idea today... Not to be. Today was the weirdest day of all.
Me and Antoine were running the shop in the morning and then I was going to take Dawn to see Harry Potter. She loves Harry Potter. She'd be a witch except she doen't have the patience or time to learn the craft. ( Sometimes, I catch her casting spells on me.) My mother- in- law was coming to the house to watch the kids, and Dawn and I were going to go out for the first time since... we were going out, about seven years ago.We've been very busy domesticating ourselves and learning to piss on paper. (I don't know exactly what that means.) Let's cut to the weirdness of the day shall we. That's what we are here for .
Cut to the chase: So, the upstairs tenant comes running down into the store screaming that the heat is on in her apartment and it killed her old dog. She's screaming and carrying on, as I call the landlord to see what's going on. I tell Antoine to go upstairs and report back to me. Is the dog dead?. Are the heaters on?. What the fuck is going on?... I want to go to an air conditioned movie house and chill. I mean for two and half hours, I want that Harry Potter to have more shit happen to him than what happens to me in a week. I was looking foward to someone else having problems that seemed unholy. I don't want to deal with dead dogs in the heat and crazy old ladies carrying on. Is that too much to ask for? Yes, my friends that was too much to ask for.
Antoine is a really good guy, but he used to take a lot of drugs. A ton. A lot of heroin but that's not all... He's a big gawky burn out from too many years of day in and day out trying to score drugs. That my friends is a twenty four seven job. I don't think it's the drugs which ruin you so much as the trying to acquire the money for the drugs and then the actual acquiring of the drugs. I'm sure the affects of drugs have a part but I'm not so convinced that the drug ruins you. It's all the running around
Anyway, Antoine comes back downstairs white as a ghost, "The dog is dead. The heat is on, and the lady is hysterical."
I finally get ahold of the landlord who informs me that the boiler room is acting up. Something about the water in the radiator never got drained and so the hot water is still running through the radiator pipes.
"The plumber will be there tomorrow."
The old lady came back down into the store wailing away. She collapsed on the ground.
"Antoine, we can not have this lady lying on the ground in the store.
Go to the deli and get a couple of empty boxes, a case of Brooklyn Brown Ale and five bags of ice."
Antoine made a couple of trips back and forth from the deli,"Now what?" he asked.
Get the birthday wrapping paper from the back of the store."
"Now what?
"Take the lady upstairs with you and the ice. Get her drinking water. Turn the fans on and have the ice in front of the fan. Take the dead dog and put him in this box and bring it downstairs to me, I'll call ASPCA to come get him or whatever agency it is. Hurry up because Dawn will be here soon and it will be my only half a day off this year."
Antoine took off with the box and the ice and the old lady. I was feeling pretty smug about myself. What a great troubleshooter I was. And now for my piece the resistance. I put my six pack in a box and then put wrapping paper around it. This is how I have always been able to get beer into a movie theater. No one ever asked me to open up a box which was a "present for a party after the movie." Sheer genius.I used to sneak chinese food into a theater that way too.
Antoine finally came back downstairs as I held onto the phone trying to get some agency to take the defunct animal away.
"I gotta talk to you," he said
"Yes," I said. "Is the lady o.k.?"
"I wrapped the dog in plastic and put it in the box like you said."
"I never said anything about plastic, but I guess that was smart with the heat and all."
"When I picked him up to put him in the plastic he was warm."
I dropped the phone,"Where's the box, where's the box1."
"I wrapped the plastic pretty tight."
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the box. Antoine had wrapped the box with wrapping paper, "Why did you wrap the dog in wrapping paper?"
"Why did you ask me to get wrapping paper?
"Not for a dead dog. That was for my beer, so I could get my beer into the movie theater."
"How could you be multi-tasking in the middle of a crisis?" he asked sincerly.
"Well, the dog is dead now... Don't you know rigor mortis sets in pretty quick in a little animal. The dog was overheated or in a coma but not dead. There's no way the dog wouldn't be stiff . She said he died last night. We killed this dog."
"It's the ladies fault."
"An animal is not dead when its warm."
It's over a hundred degrees in that apartment, the ladies screaming and wailing. It was a very difficult situation for me to be in. She said the dog has been dead since last night. Why wouldn't I believe her?."
Dawn walked into the store,"Now what?" she asked. We're going to the movie right?"
"Yes, but its going to be a double date."
As the lights went down low, I shifted the box to my lap and looked at my wife who was esctatic to be at a new Harry Potter movie. I looked to my left at the old lady next to me. She had calmed down but was still wiping her nose with a very ratty tissue. Antoine was next to her, gawking at the screen. I went to open my beer and then had a fleeting worrisome moment that the box on the sidewalk for the animal people had a six pack of beer in it and the old ladies very dead dog was in my lap. Nah. I ripped open my present and opened up my six pack. I passed one to the old lady and one to my wife but never to Antoine.
Fr
Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
This is a complicated story for a junkman. I do not like complications. I really want you to understand everything I relate to you. Its important to me. The story about Woody and his Stuffed Shirts will take years to explain. So first, let me just outline and flush out the characters involved.
1) In the early nineties I had my first store in the East Village
2) A young man wearing pancake make-up and a suit off of a corpse from the 1890's called himself Woody approached me for work. I gave it to him instantly. The P.T. Barnum aspect to my personality recognized I had a gorilla act thrown my way for free. Not that Woody was a gorilla, but more, me standing alongside Woody's slight physique in his get-up would encourage people to throw peanuts our way. He would look like my trainer and my burliness needed no suit.
3)Never did I suspect that Woody and His Stuffed Shirts were Agents Provocateurs. My own innocence. Their constant chatter about Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque should have tipped me off. It took me years to understand that Robot 7 was their code name for me. I was the mechanical man which would lead them to other undesirables in the city. Lobster Bisque was code word for undesirables they were trying to round up. Was I not such a foodie, I might never have figured out their status with the government as goads to arouse other rabble rousers, in order to form a list of people the city no longer wanted in their city. Gentrification had stung hard in the East Village and government agents and Real Estate Moguls were behind Woody to incite devilry and flush out the non desirables out of Manhattan and at least push them into Brooklyn or preferably Jersey. They succeeded
4)You see, complicated. Let me simplify. Woody and His Stuffed Shirts was not a bonafide rock band. Woody, Pall, Dandy- Doah, and Schnauzer were government agents and Real Estate lackeys, who ended up making quite good songs with a snappy beat despite themselves and what they were hired to do for considerable amounts of money.
5)You see complicated... Every time I hear those words, Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque I think about what a fool I was. Yet, still I never turn down a well made bisque of any kind and always enjoy it.
6) Years of deception later, I am able now to put the pieces of this puzzle together and relate it to others. My recomendation to you is that after you read a Woody and His Stuffed Shirts story, you immediately roll the paper into a ball and eat it. Bon Appetite.
7) Next Week, Woody and his Stuffed Shirts are introduced to a Documentary Director and The Stuffed Shirts must figure out how to discourage any positive publicity coming their way in order to keep their cover as agents provocateurs secure
Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
This is a complicated story for a junkman. I do not like complications. I really want you to understand everything I relate to you. Its important to me. The story about Woody and his Stuffed Shirts will take years to explain. So first, let me just outline and flush out the characters involved.
1) In the early nineties I had my first store in the East Village
2) A young man wearing pancake make-up and a suit off of a corpse from the 1890's called himself Woody approached me for work. I gave it to him instantly. The P.T. Barnum aspect to my personality recognized I had a gorilla act thrown my way for free. Not that Woody was a gorilla, but more, me standing alongside Woody's slight physique in his get-up would encourage people to throw peanuts our way. He would look like my trainer and my burliness needed no suit.
3)Never did I suspect that Woody and His Stuffed Shirts were Agents Provocateurs. My own innocence. Their constant chatter about Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque should have tipped me off. It took me years to understand that Robot 7 was their code name for me. I was the mechanical man which would lead them to other undesirables in the city. Lobster Bisque was code word for undesirables they were trying to round up. Was I not such a foodie, I might never have figured out their status with the government as goads to arouse other rabble rousers, in order to form a list of people the city no longer wanted in their city. Gentrification had stung hard in the East Village and government agents and Real Estate Moguls were behind Woody to incite devilry and flush out the non desirables out of Manhattan and at least push them into Brooklyn or preferably Jersey. They succeeded
4)You see, complicated. Let me simplify. Woody and His Stuffed Shirts was not a bonafide rock band. Woody, Pall, Dandy- Doah, and Schnauzer were government agents and Real Estate lackeys, who ended up making quite good songs with a snappy beat despite themselves and what they were hired to do for considerable amounts of money.
5)You see complicated... Every time I hear those words, Robot 7 and Lobster Bisque I think about what a fool I was. Yet, still I never turn down a well made bisque of any kind and always enjoy it.
6) Years of deception later, I am able now to put the pieces of this puzzle together and relate it to others. My recomendation to you is that after you read a Woody and His Stuffed Shirts story, you immediately roll the paper into a ball and eat it. Bon Appetite.
7) Next Week, Woody and his Stuffed Shirts are introduced to a Documentary Director and The Stuffed Shirts must figure out how to discourage any positive publicity coming their way in order to keep their cover as agents provocateurs secure
My Laundry With Harvey II: Shanghai Vasectomy
Thursday, July 12, 2007
My Laundry With Harvey II: Shanghai Vasectomy
This is how Harvey shanghai'd me to get an emergency vasectomy yesterday during the heatwave. First he sucker punched me with a fancy bullshit speach...
"I know a lot of criminals. I know the smart ones as well as the dumb ones. Most are dumb, I made sure to go to a federal pen, so that I could meet some of the smarter ones. I was tired of petty criminals, I wanted to meet the masterminds. The thing about most criminals is that they are stupid. Yet, these stupid motherfuckers hardly ever get caught. I mean stupid criminals always get caught because they don't know when to quit and they hardly ever have a plan. Yet, they have to commit a hundred crimes, sometimes commiting as many as a dozen stupid things in a day, day after day. Look at Chucky for instance. still he goes unnoticed for months or years...
"Chucky almost killed me before the fourth. He had these vintage fireworks and I banged my head on his truck and was bleeding and then he drove around with me in the back,in the heat."
Harvey ignored me, "Most criminals constantly are commiting crimes. So, imagine if you are a calculating criminal. The problem of course for the masterminds is when they become too smart for their own good and forget that they can make a mistake."
"Harvey, I don't know where you're going with this, but I'm not getting involved with any mastermind crime you are planning, I just want to finish the laundry, kiss the babies goodbye and go to the junkstore before it gets too late."
We finished our laundry and Harvey sucker punched me, "Listen kid I know you wanted to go to work but I'm having a heart attack."
"You really don't look like a man having a heart attack."
"Are you taking me or not?"
"How can a man having a heart attack, be so calm."
"If I get excited, I could die."
"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"
"I got my ambulance around the corner."
"What do you mean, you have your ambulance around the corner?"
"Instead of a limo with a driver, I own an ambulance with a driver. I never have to wait in traffic, and on occassion I've been able to save a life or two."
"Wow! You are a mastermind."
We went around the corner and lo and behold, there was an ambulance with a driver. It was Chucky from the neighborhood.
"Oh no. He's a dumb criminal," I said. What happened to your masterminds?"
"You got to start somewhere," he said as we entered the back of the ambulance with his little bag of laundry and my three large bags.
Chucky turned on the siren and instantly began weaving in and out of traffic heading over the Williamsburg Bridge. I have to say, I was really into the ride. I felt like I was in a James Bond chase scene. Chucky had found his true vocation, a truly great ambulance driver.Harvey offered me oxygen. I declined. He sucked it up in this mask, "You'd never believe how great breathing oxygen could be."
Something was wrong but how could I guess that my wife orchestrated this insanity, so that I could have a vasectomy. She knew I was busy just trying to work and help take care of the kids but she was ready to start having sex again , and didn't want any more kids. She knew that I would never make the appointment with the Doctor for the snip snip. Dawn is the true mastermind. I would have to watch my back with this woman.
Harvey, dropped me off in front of my apartment and threw the three laundry bags out into the street, as I hobbled off the ambulance.
"See you next week at the laundry," Harvey said. Chucky took off, before Harvey could even close the door. He almost fell on his ass into the street with my laundry bags. "I have to find other masterminds," he said as he finally got his balance and closed the doors. The sirens went screaming into the future.
From the window, my two year old girl saw me and said, "Daddy, daddy," and then added her own language gibberish which she was beginning to teach the two month old baby.
Dawn greeted me at the door, "It was the only way...And the Doctor and Harvey came free. I only had to pay Chuckie fifty bucks.
"Why was the Doctor free?" I asked as I put the last bag of laundry down and groaned."
"He's practicing, He only had performed a vasectomy on a corpse and he wanted to try it on a working stiff."
"Wow."
"How many cups of Dreft did you use on the kids laundry?" Dawn asked,as she smelled the kids clothes.
I would have to watch this woman closely from now on.
My Laundry With Harvey II: Shanghai Vasectomy
This is how Harvey shanghai'd me to get an emergency vasectomy yesterday during the heatwave. First he sucker punched me with a fancy bullshit speach...
"I know a lot of criminals. I know the smart ones as well as the dumb ones. Most are dumb, I made sure to go to a federal pen, so that I could meet some of the smarter ones. I was tired of petty criminals, I wanted to meet the masterminds. The thing about most criminals is that they are stupid. Yet, these stupid motherfuckers hardly ever get caught. I mean stupid criminals always get caught because they don't know when to quit and they hardly ever have a plan. Yet, they have to commit a hundred crimes, sometimes commiting as many as a dozen stupid things in a day, day after day. Look at Chucky for instance. still he goes unnoticed for months or years...
"Chucky almost killed me before the fourth. He had these vintage fireworks and I banged my head on his truck and was bleeding and then he drove around with me in the back,in the heat."
Harvey ignored me, "Most criminals constantly are commiting crimes. So, imagine if you are a calculating criminal. The problem of course for the masterminds is when they become too smart for their own good and forget that they can make a mistake."
"Harvey, I don't know where you're going with this, but I'm not getting involved with any mastermind crime you are planning, I just want to finish the laundry, kiss the babies goodbye and go to the junkstore before it gets too late."
We finished our laundry and Harvey sucker punched me, "Listen kid I know you wanted to go to work but I'm having a heart attack."
"You really don't look like a man having a heart attack."
"Are you taking me or not?"
"How can a man having a heart attack, be so calm."
"If I get excited, I could die."
"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?"
"I got my ambulance around the corner."
"What do you mean, you have your ambulance around the corner?"
"Instead of a limo with a driver, I own an ambulance with a driver. I never have to wait in traffic, and on occassion I've been able to save a life or two."
"Wow! You are a mastermind."
We went around the corner and lo and behold, there was an ambulance with a driver. It was Chucky from the neighborhood.
"Oh no. He's a dumb criminal," I said. What happened to your masterminds?"
"You got to start somewhere," he said as we entered the back of the ambulance with his little bag of laundry and my three large bags.
Chucky turned on the siren and instantly began weaving in and out of traffic heading over the Williamsburg Bridge. I have to say, I was really into the ride. I felt like I was in a James Bond chase scene. Chucky had found his true vocation, a truly great ambulance driver.Harvey offered me oxygen. I declined. He sucked it up in this mask, "You'd never believe how great breathing oxygen could be."
Something was wrong but how could I guess that my wife orchestrated this insanity, so that I could have a vasectomy. She knew I was busy just trying to work and help take care of the kids but she was ready to start having sex again , and didn't want any more kids. She knew that I would never make the appointment with the Doctor for the snip snip. Dawn is the true mastermind. I would have to watch my back with this woman.
Harvey, dropped me off in front of my apartment and threw the three laundry bags out into the street, as I hobbled off the ambulance.
"See you next week at the laundry," Harvey said. Chucky took off, before Harvey could even close the door. He almost fell on his ass into the street with my laundry bags. "I have to find other masterminds," he said as he finally got his balance and closed the doors. The sirens went screaming into the future.
From the window, my two year old girl saw me and said, "Daddy, daddy," and then added her own language gibberish which she was beginning to teach the two month old baby.
Dawn greeted me at the door, "It was the only way...And the Doctor and Harvey came free. I only had to pay Chuckie fifty bucks.
"Why was the Doctor free?" I asked as I put the last bag of laundry down and groaned."
"He's practicing, He only had performed a vasectomy on a corpse and he wanted to try it on a working stiff."
"Wow."
"How many cups of Dreft did you use on the kids laundry?" Dawn asked,as she smelled the kids clothes.
I would have to watch this woman closely from now on.
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