more things the bastard saw at the hardcore show

the bastard doesn't get out often enough to see dean thrilla's band but, this show was in the making for close to a year i think.

i mean i haven't been down to this bar in a while, and the last time i was, another local act was getting back together.

let me back up a little bit: alot of the bastard's friends from the old hood have been in bands from time to time and while all of them have day jobs, some of them get together from time to time to play it again, at least one more time. the bastard never did but then again, he sucked at being in a band. that and baseball. but dean's band, no redeeming social value play quite regularly. in fact, they do well enough to sustain the band. yeah they won't get rich but, they generate enough cash to do the occasional tour of the netherlands or the eastern sea board. never very long. some of these guys have families that they want to be near.

so anyway, a while back, i was at fuzzy's (the bar where this all goes down), dean had been trying to get a show together with some of the local hardcore acts and the other band, well they were kind of holding out. but then they gave in and this show happened.

i haven't thought about it but they've been at this for 20 years. 20 years since this band was thought up in a former friend's basement. 20 years of some of the most ridiculous stage antics, i've ever seen this side of gwar. it was good times. and the bastard got to speak with some folks he hasn't seen in a great while.

—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

...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

...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

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

everything's coming up bastard

late in the afternoon yesterday, the bastard's ladyfriend calls up form the whole foods in union square. they were out of cupcakes. that's what she had to bring to this party we were going to.

so i headed into the fhills to pick up some cupcakes.

en route to the bakery, i saw this you hipster smoking a pipe. he couldn't be more than 22. smoking a grandad pipe.

it was glorious but i was on top of him already. i couldn't get the photo. so the bastard kept on keeping on.

then i happened into these gentlemen.

fantastic.

everything's coming up bastard

—the bastard

...on dress codes

the bastard has been living in the FoHi since about 1996. i used to work at a grocery store in the middle of it from 1992 through about 1994. safe to say, i've put in some time here. now since there was a large influx of russians into the community due to a little thing we like to call glasnost.

and when the russians came over, they started buying what was hip at the time regardless of age. this culminated for the bastard during the summer of 1998, when while purchasing ice cream at a carvel the bastard witnessed two late 40 somethings russian gentlemen sporting threads from roca wear. this made me question the notion of whether newly emigrated peoples are really aware of what is age appropriate clothing. or perhaps the notion might have been moreseo about how if something is really really expensive, then it must be the thing to wear.


the bastard hadn't thought about that night until last night when i was taking the train home from work late. you see, when you head home during regular rush hour, you head home with the rank and file new yorkers who are coming home from their regular jobs. well, an hour or so later seems to be the time that all of the really choice folks get the ride home.


as illustrated here. this guy is balding, mind you and not to take away from the fact that the bastard is in fact bald himself, i would never wear anything to attempt to draw attention to it. but this guy was decked out in SO much young hiphop wear, i just had to diagram it out for you. and to think, there were 4 young guys dressed just like this that were high school age and looking for trouble. so much so, that it prompted the bastard to decide to wait for the next train to avoid said trouble. sometimes i'm convinced there is a god and that he has my sense of humor. thanks god, you're a real pal.

—the bastard

get happy, stupid

walk into the stop and shop.

the chairman asked me to pick up some chop meat for meatballs as he is making sauce tonight.

but, first, coffee.

and they have it in house.

"can i have a big/medium/grande/motherfucking coffee please."

he hooks it up and asks, "can i get you anything else?"

"no thanks....no wait. i'll take a million dollars"

"we could all use a million dollars."

"from your mouth to god's ears."

his girlfriend pipes up, "what would be the first thing you do, when you get a million dollars?"

the bastard thins for a sec.

"you know, i was looking at apartments with my girlfriend this afternoon, and i saw this fantastic apartment designed by phillippe starck, and i would just drop the money on that."

"no you wouldn't. you'd get happy first."

then the bastard thought for a sec. and it made sense. you're right, i would.

—the bastard

...on remote control

"that looks like a spot there"

"what's he doing?"

"using his remote to unlock the doors"

"it ain't working"

"maybe if he gets closer"

"nope, maybe he should use the key"

"maybe if he sets it off in the front"

"nope, maybe he should use the key"

"maybe if he gets closer"

"nope, maybe he should use the key"

"maybe if he tries from the trunk"

"nope, maybe he should use the key"

this goes on for 15 minutes. we find parking elsewhere and eat pizza, 15 minutes later than intended. the man decides to use his key after we pull away. jackass.

—the bastard

...on the year of the flood

so truth to tell, the bastard doesn't always spend the night at home. sometimes he stays out after hours and materializes at work the next morning fresh for the new day.

the downside is this.

FLASHBACK: the bastard is riding the train back to craptastic queens and he notices that while there wasn't alot of rain in manhattan, alot of women are wearing those stupid ass rubber boots with the goofy patterns on them to fool us all into thinking that they look less like a wellington boot.

FLASH FORWARD: so i come home to this.

yay. it's just like the last flood, only worser.

so i do what comes to mind first. i go to the bathroom. i mean hell, i had to go.

then i called the landlord.

"hi missah lanlord, we had ourselves a flood again. can you come over in 5 minutes to survey the damage"

"sh-sh-sh-sh-would you prefer if if if if if if i came over tomorrow?"

"no actually, i'd prefer if you saw the place before i cleaned the place up. the floor is soaked and there's plaster all over the place"

so missah lanlord came over and looked at the grief and told me shit that i wanted to hear and we'll see what happens. i showed him some of the other damage from rainstorms that predate my divorce and my meds for my breathing problems as a result of all of this crap. we'll see what happens. i ain't holding out hope on this shit. the plan is.

do the job.

take the money.

put it away.

get the fuck out.

find a new place to wreck.

i'll let you know how that shit works out. can't wait for the creatures to start coming out tonight as a result of this shit.

—the bastard

...on risk 4

you know sometimes the bastard has to really hand it to rayne o'brian. he does it his way. he didn't have anyone to ride with, so he started a motorcycle gang. at his houe warming party a couple weeks ago he pointed me in the direction of motojesus. motojesus fixs old bikes. motojesus is a hipster. he runs a bike shop in billyburg and that's where the bastard's wheels currently reside.

last night i was supposed to get the bike back. i had no way of getting this home because, i can't find the paperwork. so i can't register my moto until i solve that problem. motojesus, offers to bring the bike to me and i appreciate that. motojesus solves problems. at 8:30 he calls to tell the bastard that while his boy says the bike was fine, he was not satisfied that the bike was in top notch (top notch) running condition so he's keeping it until the weekend. motojesus double checks shit. i like that. can't wait to get this frikkin bike on the road. i'm thinking it'll be registered by christmas time.

—the bastard

the smell gets around you

"snif snif."

"you know rob, sometimes this city smells like shit."

"you know, sometimes shit smells like this city."

"really." (not stated as a question but as a retort. keep up, will you)

"yeah sometimes i'll find something floating in the bowl and sniff and think, hmmmmmmm, 43rd street."

"nice."

so yeah. it didn't smell so good last night as the lobster and i headed west towards 6th. it's one of those phenomena that is nothing like the maple syrup smell that perplexed us all in october of 2005. it was more of the late season humidity comes home to make everything smell like crap.

or raw sewage.

or corpses.

or...well...you get the idea.

anyway it followed me all the way back to the thorough borough and all the way to the airport (both times mind you). you'd think the dog days of summer were gone because it's cooler out but it just cooler out. the dog is still out there, making the bastard sweat. and he don't like it. bad dog. BAD DOG!

—the bastard

...on the simple things 3

"whoa ho, this is some high technology"

"you can mix flavors into your soda."

"i'm gonna mix vanilla into my coke."

"i'm gonna mix cherry into mine."

"well, i'm gonna mix hawaiian punch into mine"

nothing makes the bastard smile more than stoners planning out how they are going to mix their sodas in a the 7-11. shine on you crazy diamonds

—the bastard

..on the little things 2

has the bastard ever gone on ad nauseam about how much he loves having a 7-11 near his place?

i mean seriously.

what could be better than getting some icee coffee after moving crap to my garage? yes, the bastard rents a garage. where else am i putting the damn bike and the chairman's truck. anyway, the bastard enjoys the convenience of getting the caffeine my body depends on to keep the voices out of my head.

come on i'm saving lives out here. your lives. show some gratitude.

jerks

—the bastard

...on risk 3

...or worst day off ever!

now the bastard isn't one for vacations. i mean, i like vacations and all but, i never seem to take one unless i actually have somewhere to go. that's why i haven't taken a proper vacation since i went to ireland in 2003. don't get me wrong. i've taken time off. i have to take time off to see the boy and that burns vacation time and all but, that's not a vacation, that's visiting. so i decided to take a week off and spend it taking care of crap around the house.

now the bastard has to tell you something. he's NEVER going to take a week off ever again. the first act of my week off was to finally get my motorcycle license in order. so the bastard has to ask you.

have you ever had one of those days off where you go to the DMV?

and a cab stops short in front of you?

and you look in the rear view mirror real quick to swerve but not the blind spot?

and you sideswipe someone else's automobile?

yeah, me too.

so i pull over to the side of the road and to hash it out with the owner of this black toyota that someone must have taken a hammer to and the driver gets out and he's like 2 heads taller than me, and i already know that it's my fault. cause it is! and we exchange pleasantries and he clamly tells me that as i can see, he doesn't have collision on his car. i can tell this by the spray painted piece of cardboard he's currently using for a trunk. either way we do the info exchange and i tell the driver that more than likely, we won't speak again as this is my problem, not his. and that's the god's honest truth. why give this poor kid grief because of the bastard's screw up. and it didn't look like he was planning on fixing up his ride any time soon. so needless to say, i'm thinking that the next time i take a week off, i'm going to HAVE to be doing something because this is the suckiest vacation ever.

on the bright side however, it only cost the bastard 10 bucks to alter his license to put an "M" next to the "D". yay cheap fees. and it'll only cost me a grand to fix the car. nice and smooth. >:-O

—the bastard

the wrong trousers

every girl's crazy bout a sharp dressed man. or maybe everyone gets crazy when a man has sharps. ida know but, the bastard has to tell you something. he carries a shiv on him. in fact, i own several. alot of them are made by spyderco. i highly recommend the brand should you need something sharp. i even bought one for the chairman. and i've already gotten a decent look at the next one i'm going to buy.

but i digress.

anyway, all branding aside, the bastard stopped into the coffee-a-teria on the way home. now mind you i didn't go home last night and since yesterday's jeans were nice and soda encrusted, i had to buy a pair of jeans as well and all my gear didn't fit into the pockets as well as my soda pants so every time i have to take my wallet out of my pocket, i have to take this monstrosity which is one of my favorite shivs. so while i was in coffee-a-teria i made sure to take out enough to buy my coffee beforehand. upon arriving, a young hispanic man takes my order and when he gives me the price which tells me that the price of things has gone up to my disdain. so out comes the shiv and i clomp it onto the counter. the young man's eyes bug out. i look him in the eye and tell him with a grin, "these are the wrong pants for this knife". he grins back and takes my money. i grin and take my coffee.

—the bastard

...on the outer boroughs

well the bastard can safely say that the james bond film live and let die is a really good film to take a nap to. you see, i'm landlocked. stuck. i decided against asking the chairman for a ride into the office as it would have me walking up to my office from the west village. so needless to say, the bastard has been hitting the refresh button on the mta's website. i've been hitting refresh all morning, except for the brief 30 to 45 minutes i was asleep while roger moore bored my ass to unconsciousness. and the bastarad has come to this conclusion, queens is getting fucked today. queens always gets fucked in these situations. it's understandable, manhattan is this town's business center so it needs to run. but, the outer boroughs take a back seat to this and queens sometimes takes a backseat to brooklyn and tornados in bay ridge brooklyn aside, brooklyn is in slightly better shape than we are.

so in the meantime, the bastard will keep hitting the refresh button. staying out of the heat. and mind you, it's frikkin' steamy out. man, i have templates to redo.

—the bastard

...on treading

has the bastard ever told you the one about the guy who was sleeping in his bed during a torrential rainstorm?

well anyway there's this guy.

and he wakes up at about...say...6:30 in the morning to sound of heavy rain. so he rolls over

about 10 minutes later, it's raining like the hammers of hell and the guy rolls over again and remarks to himself, "damn, it sure is raining"

then it occurs to him that it's in fact raining in his living room. GET IT? it was raining in his living room. jeeze, you have no sense of humor.

so, the bastard has been bailing out his living room and the word comes out over the crystal set to stay home, or at least delay my commute a little while. now the bastard isn't one for listening to city officials but, i want some unwind time. at least for a couple minutes. this is gonna be a long day.

—the bastard

...on congestion

...and the bastard doesn't mean the nasal kind, jerk!

while the bastard sees the logic of congestion pricing, he also has something to say about it. rather, he has some questions.

does congestion pricing that the middle class will bear the brunt of this in the long run?

does congestion pricing that bicyclists will begin to obey traffic laws? this is something that i'm not AT ALL optimistic about.

when environmentalists discuss the upside of congestion pricing, are they aware that there are FIVE boroughs in new york city? that manhattan isn't the only piece of land that constitutes new yorks city? that there are at least 3 boroughs that are near manhattan that are PART of new york city that will not have congestion pricing that will become parking lots every day during commuting times that will get to enjoy the greenhouse gases that manhattanites are currently bitching about. ok ok, this is what the bastard was leading up to. all of the coverage the bastard has been seeing on the ny1 has been about how this will be great for the CITY but, there are several denizens of this city who will have to pay. environmentalists are all over this. this is a good thing. let's price the automobiles out of the island of manhattan. i'm sorry but to a certaain degree, i have to call bullshit on it.

what if there is a transit strike again and folks have to drive in? is that some kind of unexpected windfall for manhattan?

what happens when the price of things go up. case, meet point. have you noticed that the price of milk and food has gone up since the price of gas has gone up? i wouyld love to see how much a gallon of milk is going to cost the average manhattanite if this congestion pricing plan goes through. the price of a pint of beer (which is already overpriced on this rock). it's bad enough that it's too goddam expensive to afford to live here. okay, i'm done.