...on oldies

...but goodies


when the bastard comes over the williamsburg bridge to go to my ladyfriend's (all you fucking rich people can take the midtown tunnel), i have to go down houston street (that's pronounced HOW-stin, ya fucking hay seed) to get to the fdr drive.

and i saw these three guys skitching off the back of a livery cab.

Skitching (i.e. "ski-hitching" or "skate-hitching") is the act of hitching a ride on the rear bumper of a car when there is ice or slick snow on the roads. This can also be done with a skateboard or roller skates in urban areas where there is no ice or snow. In addition, skitching can be performed on a bicycle. [1]

Michael J. Fox can be seen skitching in the 1985 film Back to the Future.

you know it's just not every day that one sees this sort of thing anymore. but with gas prices being what they are, i guess folks just gotta get around they only way they know how.

even if it's the stupid way.

—the bastard

taking the train home on a wednesday evening

the bastard has a puzzle for you all today


is it tragic?

or


is it magic?

sometimes eastern european women make this whole being mean thing sort of like shooting fish in a barrel. whether it's a mother of two in a tiger striped catsuit yelling at her kids in socks and sandals or this hot mess with the bad red streaks in her white devil afro or her friend with the poodle skirt from h-e-double hockey sticks, they never disappoint the bastard.

—the bastard

wednesday evening safari

"daddy, why are we walking across town again? we can get the number 6 train by work?"

"it's simple son, daddy, likes to take only one train home in the evening, it's less frustrating"

"ok"

when all of a sudden, the majestic beast was rolling her luggage across town with us. the hunt was on and the bastard just had to have her.

it was as good as, hell, it was better than a loch ness fem mullet
in a foreigner t-shirt. she had prison tattoos to go with her black cocktail dress. she was either coming to or going from her trailer. it was magnificent. it started my evening off right.

—the bastard

the bastard has to axe you

you ever have one of those days?

you know.

you split some really expensive tickets with your brother so that our mother can go see her favorite artist perform at her favorite venue before it closes?

and then you go out to dinner for your cousin's birthday?

and drink like.....three martini's and have a good meal?

and then we completely didn't almost die in a car wreck because your cousin has a superior braking system in his car?

and then you get home to open the mail and find out that your accountant fucked up and now you owe the government even more money?

yeah me too.

it never fails. every time the bastard feels like he's starting to get ahead, starting to be able to sock some away and some other fucking expense comes up.

—the bastard

...never sleeps

the bastard never sleeps

and the meanness never stops.

and while i've touched on the issue of people over using their electronic devices on dates, it never gets tiresome for me.

and yes, the bastard sees the irony of how he's using his electronic device to capture this moment in bad date manners 101 but, go to hell, take a picture of me and put it on your own damn blog. this one's mines. well at least his collar isn't popped up like an ass because i may have had to stab him.

—the bastard

...on hell on two wheels

and other crap the bastard did this weekend.

this weekend, the bastard thought it would be a good idea to get some exercise so, he got on his bike and rode through forest park. now i realize that it really isn't a long ride through the park but then again, the bastard also discovers that bicycling actually makes alot of small hops seem smaller.

which in NO WAY discourages him from wanting to buy a proper motorcycle that RUNS.

but either way, it was good to get out and i added to the exercise difference by doing a few laps around the track at victory field in 6th gear (fold up bike i bought only has 6 gears, go to hell) so i coould feel like i actually accomplished something.

then i went out and got steak. and then i got drunk.


but then, the next morning, my ladyfriend had gotten back from her trip to the country and she was hungover too. so i packed the bikes into the car and drove to manhattan to ride up and down the east river until my head stopped hurting.


the upside of this was i got a closer look at those manmade waterfalls that i wrote about earlier this summer. and that was pretty nice.

you know, there was a time in this when this was considered an unwise course of action for some bastard's. but city is safer because some mayor we had that both the village voice hates (for being a republican) and the mofo hates (for having his cops bust him for an open conatiner) made shit hard for criminals for his time in office. it's kind of nice to be able to get around and not have to tote a knife.

not that i DIDN'T tote around a knife. you never know whose going to need to be stabbed on a sunday. oh, and then i got dinner at the seaport and got yelled at by the elder for something.

—the bastard

wednesday morning trucked

so,

the boy and i went bike riding yesterday.

and with that we went to the park and the boy got to experience exclusion, which is never an easy thing to explain to a young kid.

so we trucked to the other side of the park and found a more accepting lot of children to play with while the bastard put the first experience onto the feed.

then we got milkshakes. and i drank it up.

now i'm trucked today. we actually exercised a bit after watching star wars I (which always makes the bastard feel bad for jamaicans), so i'm doubly trucked with last night's crap to deal with. but at least i saw how this season of doctor who ended.

—the bastard

alcohol is a helluva drug

it's about midnite,

and while the bastards (not like how i'm a bastard but, you know, different kind of bastard) who do the karaoke don't bother me as much as the usually do anymore,

but sometimes,

i let it get to me.

and sometimes,

when i drink enough tequila on a tuesday night, i go and mail out my netflix movie at midnite
and i listen to how annoying it sounds.

and sometimes, i approach a random man with pock marks all over his face and while he smokes and i put my arm around his shoulder and i tell him,

"you know, you guys are a bunch of inconsiderate dicks."

"oh"

"and you'll never have that "a-ha moment" that you are keeping people awake at night"

"and where do you live buddy?"

"right next door", and the bastard points to his bedroom located directly next door and upstairs to this awful stereotype that is an italian "bistro". by the way a "bistro" is actually derived from a russian word that means "quick", not from an italian word that means "ugly, kitchey and full of wannabe sopranos extras".

pock marked is moved by this says, "i'll talk to them"

i tell him, "don't bother. he doesn't care. he never cared since the day he opened the place."

then i tell him to have a good night because, what else can one do when your sleep schedule is in the hands of others.

ten after midnite and the racket stopped. maybe there is a god but, then i think that maybe all of the middle aged also rans have just decided to go home to live their lives.

a-ha. god save queens.

—the bastard

...on slacking

...and affronts to the natural order of things

so i've been slacking lately but, when it comes to spending time with the boy or blogging, the bastard has to go with spending time with the boy.

which is followed directly by working on the magazine and then the devil's work.

but i did get one gem.

i mean seriously, this is right up there with men who wear uggs. this ain't right. you look like a dope (first off) but more importantly, it kind of smacks of everything that is wrong with manhattan parenting.

let's see (allthough not pictured), clever catch phrase, check.

ummmmm, push broom mustache that you want to ironically look like it's right out of tom of finland but actually makes you look like mike farrell instead, check.

oh, and fucking CROCs, check.

it just comes off as highly immasculating. i mean, the bastard could be wrong but.....

talk about your crimes against nature. then again the bastard was sort of trespassing in a playground in peter cooper village so what the hell do i know

—the bastard

...on seconds

FIRST: on return visits


the last time the bastard was in vegas, he went back to a big name place called delmonicos which three years ago was the site of the greatest steak i ever had.

and i have always been of the sort that going back and having something again is always a disappointment.

i mean the running man totally sucked when i saw it 10 years later. SUCKED!

but going back to delmonicos last february, it wasn't just as good as i remember it, it was better. and i wasn't just saying it to make chicago jerkface cry. the bastard said so because it was. it was like reliving a happy memory while almost dropping someone's soup on myself.

this happened again tonight. i invited my ladyfriend to come along with the boy and i to get barbecue at fette sau with saxomafone. now, the bastard has spoken of this place in the past and i have to say, it was so much more fantastic than the last time i went. they had smoked pork chops. SMOKED PORK CHOPS. on the way out, some old biddies in crocs had asked us if the place was good and i said yes. but then they asked if they had vegan food as well and i started explaining how it wouldn't make sense to smoke tofu and my ladyfriend just leaned in and said,

"if you like meat, then you'll like this"

both poignant and pointed in it's wisdom

SECOND: slowly i turned


on the way home, the bastard was too meat coma'd out to drive like a champ, like i ever could drive like a champ (shut up now, you know who you are) and we got on the bqe which made it impossible to get on the williamsburg bridge so we had to take the brooklyn bridge instead. this led to us being able to see the waterfall installation under the brooklyn bridge. it was really beautiful. and max and my ladyfriend had a an actual conversation. i really want them to get along. it looks promising. it was a good night.

—the bastard

...on the bowl

so the boy and i went to the museum with my ladyfriend yesterday.

and we saw alot of dead things. and we saw a couple live things.

but we rounded out the afternoon with a trip to madison square park which has the only coin operated bathrooms in the city.

we had first used it on my birthday, when the boy as they say, really had to go. but it cleans itself and the boy learned this the first time he used it from the man who was working there at the time so yesterday, while he was taking a break from playing, he was instructing this gentleman on how it works.

which made the bastard laugh that the boy is teaching people how to go to the bathroom.

—the bastard

...on humps

you know, the bastard has this good arrangement for the summer.

my editor understands that since i am being a parent for two months, that i will work from home sometimes and it improves my quality of life. i get stuff done and the boy gets a change of scenery from riding into the city with me.

it also saves my parents the trouble of taking days off to help (but then again, the old man should retire) as the bastard hates to ask people for help which confounds people in my life to no end.

but i digress, even though i have all this help, innevitably there is a bad ride in. and it has nothing to do with this lady who brought a stack of newspapers onto the train with her. i guess alot of people like to read a paper like the ny metro to get all of their dumbed down talking points for the day. or perhaps, she's doing paper machet today.

no, it had everything to do with the sick passenger and heavy train traffic on the 6 line this morning, and the rasta who brought a full size mountain bike, and the angry white man from upstate who was really indignant about the bike but notsomuch with the gruff when the bastard had to "politely" ask him to cease jutting his paper into my back as we waited.

oh well, i guess that's why they call it humpday

—the bastard

holy crap

george carlin died.

the cause of death was heart failure.

while i hadn't always agreed with his politics, he was a funny guy.

and i use all seven of his words that you can't say on television on a daily basis while trying to find a place for my stuff.

either way, he will be missed.

—the bastard

sticky

so the boy and i are waiting on the platform.

and while it isn't hot out, it was sticky underground and it was almost unbearable. at least it's raining now.

the chairman sent me this image and i didn't know what to do with it but i thought of the new round of six flags commercials. i never liked that wrinkly old guy but this guy is almost worse in many ways. but there he is. now go to hell

—the bastard

the bastard had an odd dream this morning...

ok it's like this.

the bastard cannot remember who he was traveling with. i think it was either the boy or perhaps left hand rob. but we were being hunted by my brother, the mofo and the executive editor of killing stuff monthly.

there had been a massive extinction event in which people had been reduced to piles of moldy cobwebs and i was making my way to my parents house to get the guns.

QUICK SIDEBAR: for the last 6 month's the bastard has been reading a comic called the walking dead. it's about a massive zombie holocaust and the stories of the people who have survived and also how their lives are changed forever by this extinction level event. this also came on the heels of a book i had been discussing called world war z which was written by mel brooks' son who also wrote the zombie survival guide. anyway, the book's web site has a quiz that grades your chances of survival if a zombie holocaust occurs. this has prompted lengthy discussions with the chairman about what we would do in the event of a zombie holocaust.

the bastard always starts off his survial situation by heading to my parents, to get the guns.

OK WE'RE BACK: so the bastard is at my parents house getting the guns and they are dead of course. i don't know if this is always the conclusion i come too because my dad reduces his options by not flying or demanding that he drive or because the subconcious narrative simplifies things by killing off my parents. maybe it's because i want a bollywood style revenge side plot to develop where the bastard sings and dances his way into getting even with the zombies.

but anyway, my parents have been reduced to cobwebs and upon getting the guns, we have a standoff. the editor from killing stuff is blank faced and speaking in his ross geller voice and the mofo is talking about the infection that has lead to this situation. i tell him i'm heading west and he tells me he thinks i have it or somehow, i've caused it but, i haven't shown any syptoms of the disease that has killed humanity. then he starts wiping the blood off of his lip and he's painting his own blood onto his face like war paint.

then the bastard wakes up. the boy wants his breakfast. what did you expect, closure? go to hell.

—the bastard

...on the unexpected

first and foremost, we know the bastard likes to be cruel to folks.

i never really figured out why i am.

maybe it's extroverted self loathing.

maybe it's some elaborate revenge for things not turning out the way i always planned them (like i ever had a plan in the first place).

generally i just blame it all on YOU. because it's easier than taking responsibility for my cruelty (oh it's a living, breathing oraganism. let it run amok like it's fucking genghis khan).

anyway, i saw this couple while getting some dinner with the boy and the chairman and listening to them, they were a ripe candidate for trailer trash on a date but, i caught them at a moment when they were discussing their shared pain about relationships. and after they left, i looked at the photo and realized that i caught that moment instead of this man's ridiculous mullet. i caught some shared introspection.

it kind of robbed the whole situation of it's cruelty. so i leave it at that. now you go to hell.

—the bastard

i don't know if the bastard has told you this but...

...sometimes, love train is the best song ever

no, not that crap that the o'jays sold to soda companies or whateverthehell they sold it to to make some well deserved cash but bunny sigler's version of "love train". it was so incredibly soulful. the mood lifeter that i needed this afternoon. you see the heat was starting to get to me as i had to dress all proper for a going away party that killing stuff monthly is throwing for their fishing editor, who we can call "old man winter" and i needed a pick me up and the bastard pod put on ole bunny. and it was delicious.

and you miss it then i feel sorry.

sorry for yoooooooouuuuuu.

tell all the brother in africa. ahhhh-fri-caaaahh. but the bastard digresses.

secondly and almost more importantly:

nobody beats the biz.

i mean fucking NO-body

the biz came on at lexington and the bastard realized something. the biz can rap the goddam phone book and i would listen to him. now the bastard is gonna go play some basketball.

—the bastard

...on inconsideration

now the bastard actually has other things to post but, this stands out as my ride back to queens tonight was less than stellar.

i was tired from my evening out with the boy and my ladyfriend and the e train was a little crowded and some guy that crashed into DID make good on that crash and held the door for me which made me feel really bad for threatening to stab him in the neck (the bastard really does HAVE to stop doing that).

but this douchebag took the cake. now the bastard has already gone over the phenomina that is people and their phones and their ringtones but, i had to go back to the well and bring this guy in. nothing says "things to do on the subway" like playing your frikkin phone tones for all of us to hear. thanks dick, we all need to hear a midi version of la cucaracha. dick. more to come later when i feel more able. lots of spam to do and not too much time to do it in.

—the bastard

...on the bus

..fashion tips moves above ground

you know,

you'll find all sorts of characters on the bus.

and monday evening was no slouch.

we saw this guy who looked like pete wentz if he was a modern primative. asllthough one wonders how one can be a modern primative but use modern technology. it's kind of like a bullshit amish movement. i don't know someone explain it to me. anyway, he sort of looked like a slightly gayer pete wentz (from fallout boy, keep up, will ya) and he drew my attention because he was singing out loud.

and thus drew everyone else's attention. this remind the bastard of this guy the chairman saw who was riding no hands down metropolitan avenue shouting, "THIS IS MY LIFE", while he was doing his trash on sunday. i kind of hope that it's the same guy. because it's how i pictured him.

—the bastard

...on working from home

so after a morning of working from home and working en route to it, the boy and i went to the park to ride our bikes.

let me back up. the bastard and his ladyfriend had been discussing how i wanted to start riding bikes again and coincidentally, so did she.

so we decided to buy something that would better fit into my tiny automobile. yeah, yeah, the bastard has gone on ad nauseum about how he feels about bicyclists and their entitlement issues and inability to simply obey traffic laws but, i bought a helmet. i bought a bike that has, get this, BRAKES. i stop at, get this, STOP SIGNS. but i digress, the boy and i went bicycling.

and it was prety good. it's true what they say about riding a bike. we went around for a bit and i decided to call it quits at the park when the bastard saw that what appeared to be a drug deal was about to go down. you see, the bastard wants his son to have a childhood.


SPECIAL BONUS BATTER: suburbia strikes again, kids. after the park, the boy and i went to get me a bike helmet, you know, because the bastard has already experienced WHY one should wear a helmet. we also stopped for lunch at the mall (cuz that's where the damn sporting goods shop is, dummy) and i saw what can only describe as, retarded tattoo number 356; also known as the life affirming, but poorly placed tattoo. you see, the bastard has friends that have ink. and they didn't do it half assed.

no.

they use their whole ass.

the funny thing is, this girls tattoo says carpe diem on her foot. i wonder if she always seizes the day by the foot. oh suburbia, why do you give the bastard so much to work with. maybe she can get a rose or a butterfly tattooed on her ankle too. or maybe a tramp stamp. the bastard is kind of glad he had a son instead.

—the bastard

...on being smart

a few years ago, the bastard had heard about a little car (quite literally) from europe called the smart. no one really paid very much mind to it here because gas was cheaper than tap water here so everyone thought it would be a great idea to buy an suv.


but now gas costs a lot more and alot of people are unhappy about it as well as some of our nations popular talking heads. so now this car which has been made in europe for years has finally reached our shores and now:


all kids love smart. i mean what's not to love.

you can't pick up more than one person.

you get crazy mileage.

you can park practically anywhere. and it's quite possibly the cheapest mercedes benz that you will ever get to buy. the bastard would have bought one but, i like to have a little extra storage. and i like haveing the means to get other people around and i like to go places with my girlfriend and my son. so having a yaris works out for the bastard. but, i would have bought a smart if it met my needs. ok so much for product plugs. i don't do them often and while i will continue to mock/cover the smart, i'd rather see them than see escalades on the road.

—the bastard

oh my god

maybe it's the fact that i'm still a little jet lagged.

maybe it's because i forgot to take my glasses out of my carry on.

maybe it's because i got to bed at 1 am.

but the bastard is TRUCKED. and i have work to do.

oh well, no sleep for the wicked.

and i am that.

—the bastard

...back from the sand

...special tired as hell remix edition.


so the bastard and his boy are back in the thorough borough and ready for the summer. i've decided after many lego related pratfalls at the bus stop, that we will have to either leave some toys in the office of not bring them here. too many small parts.also, i think some more reading material maight be better suited for the office. but let's go down the particulars for you jerks that don't keep up.

so obviously, the bastard did some flying.


followed by alot of driving.

i had some awful food.


but then i had some good food that i've heard SO MUCH about.

the bastard enjoyed some nightlife in tucson.

and then after some more driving, the bastard did some more flying.


all in all it was a fun trip and even though my flight home was riddled with freaks and grifters, we got home okay. even got some sleep too. regular posting will come back soonish. or not. go to hell jerks.

—the bastard

road home....

...full of hazards

so here ends another entry in the annals of bastardly travel. the bastard will speak more of it but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

it didn't hurt when the crippled burnout at the ticket counter asked the boy where his i.d. was with me knowing damn well that i left it in a cedar box somewhere in northwestern tucson but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

sure, my airline of choice had killed the route to tucson, so i had to go to phoenix which added up to a 2 hour drive to tucson but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

which ended up in a 2 hour ride back to the effing airport but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

and the boy and i got stopped at a railroad crossing with a mile long train but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

and while the bastard is thinking about it, you drivers here in the phoenix area are just goddam awful at driving. you are by far the most impatient lot the bastard has ever had the displeasure of driving with this side of boston, mass. but right now, i'm just glad to be on this side of the metal detectors.

well, the plane is here and i am out. 2 months of fun in the city with the boy. maybe we'll go see that sex in the city movie.

desert bound

so the bastard is here at beautiful jfk for his quarterly sojurn into the desert.

now that i'm finally here, i can stop having waking nightmares about being a bad parent.

mostly because i got up at 5am this morning.

anyway, apparently i cannot access my blog from the free hotspot.

might have something to do with the fact that the word BASTARD is prominently displayed in the url.

might just be a hiccup. oh well, go to hell.

so intermittently, the bastard will be posting to the feed. i've already gotten started on it and i haven't even made my way over to the bar. then again, it's early.

see you on the other side, shiteyes.

—the bastard

... on starting early

so our publisher, the big EZ, is letting us go early today for the memorial day holiday. The big EZ is a great publisher.

and the bastard has some layover time.

we're going to get something to drink.

and then i''m going to go to a going away party to drink some more.

then i'm going to a launch party on saturday which i will no doubt have opinions about later.

i love this business.

—the bastard

...go team