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

special on fucking FIRE edition

first off, brief description: did you ever watch those early eddie murphy routines where he makes fun of white people. it's kind of become the rosetta stone of how black comedians make fun of white people. so with that said:

to the two chuckling gentlemen on the coffee line talking shit about the woman they work with who's boyfriend from queens came to visit and you did your best stallone impression to essentially impersonate queens.

"ayyyyy oh, ayyy oh"

ok dick, it's like this. you sweater wearing shitheel. go die.

do not pass go.

do not collect 200 dollars.

go directly to die.

tonight the bastard is going to get down on his knees and pray (after i get drunk this afternoon of course) that your wife is having an affair behind you back with the pool boy and that your daughter (because a shitheel like you couldn't POSSIBLY produce and male spawn) gets pregnant out of wedlock with a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. you suck at life.

—the bastard

...on hoopties

...and other fly whips

back when the bastard used to work for the grocery store, we used to work with this kid who also sold crack on the side.

yes, he really did sell crack on the side.

i won't mention his name, he was paranoid enough as it is. if he still walks the earth, he's probably still watching his back.

the bastard might as well tell you, he wasn't the first crack dealer i worked in a grocery store with. i can mention julian's name though. why? because he met with an unfortunate end in an abandoned building in the south bronx. they found him face down and i sure hope someone is raising the kid we used to steal formula from the store for.

but i digress, my first dealer friend drove around in a huge buick which he called his hooptie.

how did i know this?

well it said on the side of this busted up buick in silver letters, "my hooptie", please try to keep up.

anyway, i haven't thought about him in a while until last saturday while i was going to the bank and i saw this driving down metropolitan avenue:


and all the bastard could think was, did he one day roll into a body shop and say, "hey, i'd really like a half naked samarai chick on the side of my hooptie. i think it would be a message to all of the other otaku kids in the hood that I AM. that i give 110 percent in all of my dealings in the community."

funny thing, and maybe it's because i just don't understand but it actually said "christ, what an asshole" to me. but what do i know?

—the bastard

fashion tips for the subway revisited

yesterday, the chairman had seen a woman.

hell, she might be your girlfriend.

in fact i KNOW that it's your girlfriend.

the chairman's only regret is not waiting to take the picture.

she took out a pack of newports.

started packing the hell out of them.

then took out two.

that's right.

two.

now your girlfriend is in flavor country. it's a big country.

—the bastard

at the car wash

i went to clean my car on saturday.

wait.

i just realized, that i've been blogging my weekend backwards.

anyway.

i went to clean my car on saturday. the tiny blue ride was starting to look god awful and i just couldn't stand by that. but the interesting thing about the car wash is the sort of people one sees while waiting for the inevitable.

but it always amazes me how people's cars sometimes reflect their perception of themselves. take this gentleman. he's out in his superfly, extra large, gas guzzling ride with the upsized rims. and to be fair, he's a big guy. the chairman is a big guy, so he prefers a ride that he's comfortable with. the fact that he has to pay upwards of 60 dollars to fill the tank is neither here nor there.

what was the attention getter for the bastard (aside from the fact that he walked around the car wash like someone had shoved a broom handle up his rear) was that he was wearing a wwe tshirt from like 5 or six years ago with one of the rock's catch phrases, "laying the smack down". and the bastard just felt like this person was a cartoon of body building. big car, big rims, big walk, ridiculous t-shirt that prompts the thought, "christ what an asshole". i mean, he may not be but i think you can smell what the bastard's cookin'.

—the bastard

sunday driver

so on sunday, the bastard's ladyfriend had to do her sister a solid by babysitting. this had the bastard dropping her off at penn station and heading back to the fhills. on my way i saw this character

he reminded me of an online game which was a meme for about 5 minutes called gay or eurotrash. he was rocking a sleeveless t-shirt and versace jeans and i think his friends to the left were rocking sandals. also he had a big belt buckle. i'm going to go with eurotrash but it's up to you.

—the bastard

taking the e train home in the pm

is it tragic?

or

is it magic?

you decide

—the bastard

end of the road

so there it is.

scoop is back on the east coast. soon my liver will begin hurting again.

in other news, it's fucking raining out again and since i walked to work from my ladyfriend's apartment, i haven't gotten into adventures and shit.

but the bastard did get rained upon.

and i made friends on facebook with someone i knew from the old neighborhood which just reminds me that i need a functioning motorcycle. but instead, i'm going to read this week's installemnt of freakangels and watch science fiction on frikkin hulu.

the book has shipped and the bastard is waiting for his proofs so, i have to play the waiting game. hrm, waiting game sucks. let's play hungry hungry hippos.

—the bastard

where's scoop part 5

...the big push

ok, the bastard has come to the conclusion that he needs to start a fight on the subway.

i have no material except for scoop's roadtrip.

anyways, she's in the home stretch. woke up in tennesee, was last seen approaching the virginia border.

in pennsylvania by dinnertime.

end of the line after that.

—the bastard

where's scoop part 4

3:15 pm: little rock, memphis by 5

we're shipping the book so, aside from the hive mind not being around for whatever reason, it's all about the shipping.

—the bastard

THIS JUST IN, SPECIAL "ME TOO EDITION"
in a special report which the bastard can only describe as "a me too update", jonny airplanes reports that he is back in virginia from his current base of operations in key west florida.

call it good timing.

call it good times.

but most definitely call it.

where's scoop part 3

scoop: "i go get mexican in amarillo"

bastard: nice

scoop: marg barg time in tx

bastard: margz am the beast aye best

scoop: i just saw the worlds biggest cross and anything you want it was palying on the radio. i in ok.

upon logging onto facebook this morning (yes the bastard is on facebook, go to hell), scoop tells us that she is sleeping in an ihop parking lot. hopefully she gets herself a rooty tooty fresh and fruity breakfast there.

—the bastard

the bastard has no idea what this is for...

actually saw this going down second avenue with my ladyfriend last sunday.

but this sunday, they were torn and in a fashion, this make a better photo. if anyone knows what the hell this is for, the bastard would like to know. i was kind of hoping it was preliminary posters for the big screen adaptation of grant morrison's we3. also if anyone else is listening, option vimanarama. it's such a good story.

—the bastard

UPDATE: looks like it more marketing. disney at that. oh well, go to hell.

where's scoop part 2

bastard: "aye put up a map for hugh"

scoop: "hehehehehe i', at a dq in nm and i'm thinking about buying a drug rug aka baja robe"

bastard: "hehehe drug rug. where in nm?"

scoop: "no clue about fourty mi to santa rosa"

bastard: "close enuff. just needed it fire the map. you should dine at whataburger"

scoop: "heheheheh i've heard of that i need something non meat"

bastard: "that's what dq am fore"

in other news, someone has designed a steak flavored beer but it's for dogs

—the bastard

where in the united states is scoop?

so as the basatard may have mentioned, scoop, left hand rob's predecessor at selling bullets seven times a year. has departed from hell's waiting room and she heads east by monkey powered toyota corolla along with her copilot. hopefully leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

almost immediately on their departure, i was getting updates on their location.

scoop: "At n n out but we no no in nv or ca. I'm a free woman full of beef"

bastard: "that is the greetest phrase ever", i replied

then it hit me to come up with a map. left hand rob thought that it should look like one of those indiana jones maps. so here we are so far:


received a text on sunday night that went, "me at venetion now, i wanna get on the marg barg and play crapz. developing..."

2 hours later scoop tell me that she won cash money at the craps tables.

last we leave her, she went to the grand canyon yesterday and ended the day in flagstaff.

developing....

—the bastard

god is in the details

the chairman took yesterday off.

it didn't work out for him.

by the time the bastard got home from jury duty, he was miserable.

the solution was a trip to pf changs. and a walk around the mall.

yeah, it's not really chinese food bu, it tastes ok.

afterwards we saw these two walk into a shoe store and her t-shirt was gold.

you know, it isn't everyday that you see someone from the u.s. rib eating team in a shopping mall. the chairman laughed hard and all was well again. then he bought grand theft auto 4 for xbox. but i had told him that it's sights like this that makes me believe in god. that he would put something so hysterical in our path. enjoy your saturdays jerks.

—the bastard

...on tedium

...weekend bastard feed edition


so this week, the bastard had jury duty.

and while the courthouse had wifi.

blogger is apparently censored by their firewall.

so i used the feed.

and i saw some people stealing the city's wifi.

saw some woman walk across the courthouse with a tail full of toilet paper.

wasted a lot of my second morning. some of it because of the law enforcement community.

and watched a bunch of folks cram food in their mouth while gradually making the world into more of a gesellschaft society through celluar technology.

well, it's a dirty job but, someone has to do it. and now the bastard won't have to for another six years. streetwise winds again.

—the bastard

...on getting pinched

well, the bastard has put it off for 6 months.

and i started making the obligatory phone calls.

but the county of craptastic queens has me in their clutches.

i have jury duty.

and i have to go lest i do time in the pokey for criminal contempt.

the crying shame is, i started shipping the magazine next week so, this shit has to end fast.

so it's like this.

i'm going to court tomorrow. and if something good happens, i'l put it on the bastard feed.

if not,

i'll do nothing,

and you folks can go suck eggs. deal?

—the bastard

...on the longest wait ever

the bastard loves his neighborhood.

he really does.

but while he does.

he sometimes sees it's inherent flaws.

there is a blogger i go to on a regular basis. and sometimes i take his suggestions.

and sometimes i wish i didn't like tonight.


the chairman and i went to the bonfire grill on austin street once and it was one of the best burgers i've had for a great while.

the chairman and i went back a few weeks later and the burger was still good but the service was fucking abominable and we decided to not go back until they work out the kinks.

we went back again tonight and once again, the burger was fantastic, dare i say, better than the first time.

but,

there was no reason for us to wait over an hour for the burger. not even for a burger that could change the world. and this is the problem with the hood.

you see, forest hills is in a state of becoming...potentially.

and nice restaurants have moved in because, they want manhattan style eateries.

but they don't give manhattan style service. the bastard has spoken about this with regard to a certain overly praised pizza place on ascan avenue which shall remain nameless and it's plain and simple.

you have to step up.

look, we gave the waiter a proper tip when all was said and done (even thought he was astonished and told his coworker so as the chairman walked right past him as he was flummoxed by the fact that these two guys actually tipped him. by the by john our waiter, bad move dick), it wasn't his fault. tonight it was the kitchen.

it's a hamburger. you're not saving lives. well maybe you could have but i nearly expired on the chair waiting for it. the bastard won't be going back for a while. it's a shame, it's a good burger.

—the bastard

this is why the bastard loves the irish

...and loves being part irish


took a quick pitstop in at the galway hooker tonight.

killing stuff monthly's web monkey is in a hostage trading program to help the lower beast side free scoop from hell's waiting room.

on the way into the bar i saw this sign but paid it no mind.

had my drink with the staff.

paid the appropriate respects to the appropriate people.

and i went to the can so i could leave.

and i saw the sign again. but i read the fineprint. you see finnbar has to pay for recent brain surgery costs.

the irish love a benefit. sometimes it's a benefits for shamus' gout or for some other person's liver operation but they do love a benefit.

good times

—the bastard

things the bastard discovered on a sunday

well, the bastard spent his sunday painting stuff in my ladyfriend's apartment.

also, we went down to that horrendous trader joes on 14th street.

when all was finished, we put a second coat on and my ladyfriend said that this called for a treat.

so we went to pinkberry.

pinkberry as you may or may not know is swirly goodness.

or it's frozen yogurt reinvented to create an experience that indulges the senses. christ the bastard loves marketing hacks.

or it's just a trendy frozen yogurt place where both otaku kids and sweatpants wearing jewish american princesses can congregate and listen to loud blaring techno and sit on knockoffs of philippe starck's ghost chair. or maybe they are the real deal.

the bastard doesn't know. but the shit sure is tasty. so go to hell.

but upon my second visit i realize the murray hill j.a.p.s have a uniform.

first and foremost, you must have large aviator shades on. because while god slept on the seventh day, the day afte that, he sure as shit didn't want you to bother to put on makeup.

and secondly, you must must must wear sweatpants related outfits. the baggier the better. the last thing you want to do is attract a mate while asking for carob chips on your green tea flavored frozen treat.

and despite, the above diagram, the "christ what an asshole" grin, is purely optional. so enjoy your frozen yogurt jackass. ENJOY!

—the bastard

walking after midnite...

...or gauntlet of assholes


so after a tasty margarita or two and some tasty mexican food, i had to run out to the drugstore rather late as one of us had an upset stomach. on my way past my ladyfriend's doorman, i ask where a 24 hour drugstore was and he pointed me in the direction of park and 23rd.

it's late and some asshole is yelling happy cinco de mayo (on may 3rd) to passers bay.

as the bastard walks underneath his window he yelss, "hey. hey mister clean, happy cinco de mayo"

now figuring from a quick assessment of my periphery that i am th eonly bald man on 23rd at the tim i asume it's me, without fliching, i ratchet my middle finger skyward.

drunk asshole screams back, "i love you man"

i love you too stupid. i hope you fall out the window too.

—the bastard