2003-03-22 - 11:26 a.m.

Ah, the window is open as I write this. How nice. A balmy 39 degrees. I love it! I'm covered in 17 inches of sawdust! I love it! So I'm back. Back. From Brooklyn. Well, actually, I've been back since Tuesday. It shouldn't come as a shock to most of you that I was there, despite not being able to ever mention it beforehand in this here journal. For if I had, Miss Monique (Tuscaloosa's Opossum Queen of 1993) would have found out and she wouldn't have had the borderline-epileptic fit when I surprised her in Union Square on Friday afternoon. But I'm getting ahead of myself . . .�

Friday morning, after a marathon night of burning and reburning CDs for Brett and Monique, I groggily packed my backpack and yellow Omega bag {Yeah Boyeee! Shout-out to Omega!} and waited for Andrea to come pick me up. We left a little after our target time of 10AM, but were soon on our way to beautiful Massachoosetz. We even stopped at the infamous Chicopee Rest Stop for lunch. Seriously, if you ever want to appreciate the rest of New England, even the foul stench that is Mass., spend some quality time in Connecticut. Well, I should just say, "time", since there's nothing quality in Conn. The entire fucking state is speed traps and New Yorkers who like to make pretend they live in New England. One would think I would have already realized the skankosity of Connecticut after my last significant trip there, but puke ramps be damned, I had to learn all over again. Andrea was even nice enough to show me the house she'd be staying at while she was in Conn. and how sinfully nice it was, what with its old skool stand-up arcade games, giant flat screen tvs, multiple video game systems, bar, pool table, foosball, etc. (Does there really even need to be an "etc."?) So wait? Why was I even going to New York at this point? Oh yes, I had to surprise that Opossum Princess for her birthday. And considering her birthday isn't until the 25th, it was quite a surprise.

Bye bye Rollinsford! I ain't never a-comin' back! Ha ha ha ha ha! (and by 'never', I mean I'll be back on Tuesday. Sigh.) �

Andrea dropped me off at the Stamford train station around 3:30 and I called Brett and let him know that I was on my way to the big city. Like so many Fievels and Muppets before me. He told me to call when I got to Grand Central and he'd meet me there. Around this time I was sweating my [________] off. (Fill in the blank - ass? perhaps balls? whichever you prefer!) In order to save room packing I was wearing about 9 layers of clothing and probably resembled an inner-city sherpa to the group of girls that were rapping next to me. BUT, that's assuming that they knew what a sherpa was, and that's a Tracey Lundgren sized but(t)! See what I did there? The first sign that I wasn't in Kansas anymore came when the group of rapping black girls ran from security to another section of the train in order to escape paying their fare. Before they had fled they were singing some J. Lo lyrics. After they left, these two blond prissy beeyatches that were sitting next to me looked at each other and Priss #1 just stared at Priss #2 and said, "Why would you ever want to be J. Lo when you could be Gwenyth?" I couldn't agree more, Priss #1, I couldn't agree more.�

I got to Grand Central Station a little before 5 and met Brett there shortly thereafter. He was happy to report that our clueless friend Mo'nique was bullshit. I know what you're thinking - and this is different than when? Well, she was bullshit because he fed her this lie about having a meeting that he forgot about the next day and assorted cock and bull to make her think he wasn't going to be available for the weekend. Also, he pushed her weakest button of them all - the present button! He told her that a present that he had ordered for her online had shown up early and could he meet her in Union Square so he could give it to her, since it was too big for him to carry it home. What does she immediately ask? "Can I ride it?" she wanted to know. "Is it shiny?" she followed with. I don't know me very well, but I'd say yes to both questions. So she went to Union Square to meet with Brett and what she hoped would be her brand new Schwinn. Meanwhile, Brett is trying to teach me the finer points of the New York City subway system. I blocked most of it from my memory but I seem to recall a Metro Card and me throwing an embarrassing tantrum over some Sacajawea golden dollars. Soon enough, we were at Union Square and several months of undercover work were almost complete. He pointed out to me where she was standing. Sure enough, draped in hues of city black, there stood Monique, maw gaped appropriately in hopes of a new bike. So he walked towards her as I snuck around the Gandhi garden (a garden with a statue of Gandhi in it, not much of a story there, huh?) in secret trying to avoid her while Brett tried in vain to manhandle her in a way so her back would stay to me. I got about 5 feet behind Brett when Monique looked over his shoulder. She did a double take and when she realized it was me that's when it happened. She went crazy. In. Her. Pants.

Seriously Clyde, she hooted. She hollered. She hit me. She hit Brett. She kicked a poodle that was walking by. I believe she actually said the following to me whilst in her delirium: "Frick, are you even fracking me right now?!" I just report it people. At this point, Brett relinquished his ownership of me to Monique with the instructions to bring me to Brooklyn, make sure I changed into my Friday's Best, and meet back for his last show with his improv group Boss Tweed in the city at 10. It was a plan. The subway ride back to Brooklyn was pretty much Monique alternately hitting me and swearing or grabbing my arm and saying, "I can't believe my friend is here to visit me!" Although, I think a few of those times she would follow that under her breath with, "So where's my fucking bike?"

This is Union Square, but it isn't from when we surprised Monique. It's actually from Sunday I think, but since I don't have a picture of me surprising her, this pic of Union Square will have to do. Plus, if you look very closely you can see ME opening my new CD that I had just bought. I'll give you a hint - look under the horse. That's probably too big of a hint.�

After arriving at the Bedford Ave. subway stop, we were on our way around Polish convenience stores, parks, and automotive high schools towards Clifford Place. Broken street lights played the part of the big red dog in the performance that I attended. It was three flights up to Brett and Monique's little slice of heaven. And why such a slice of heaven? Two reasons. And those reasons names are Misha and Niko.�

Misha-Mish and Niko-Necco - with their bestest friend in the whole wide world: The Bubble Wrap

So Monique gave me the grand tour of their apartment, which while not very wide, was very looooong. 5 1/2 large rooms long. It was much bigger than I was expecting, probably due to the two of them telling me how small NYC apartments were for so long. I was shocked that it was bigger than a shoe box. Ok, three shoe boxes. Anyway, it's down the street from a convent, so worry not for Brett and Monique - well, at least not for their souls. [Those nuns mean business too! All they eat and drink is Raisin Bran and Grapefruit Juice! ] So after getting situated, changed, and unpacking my stuff (which was just basically me unzipping my two bags and starting an ever growing pile of my clothes and belongings next to the couch) we left to show me the city. And after navigating the ins and outs of the subway to get us to Times Square, what is the first thing that Monique brings me to? The most razzle-dazzle place she can think of? The Marriot Hotel in Times Square. I have to side with Monique here though. #1 - I'm easily amused. #2 - My mother would be offended if I had a chance to see a new Marriot and didn't take it. #3 - This was no ordinary Marriot my friend, oh no siree - this was a Marriot MARQUIS. Now, I don't know what that means, but I know it means classy! The lobby was on the 8th floor for God sakes! They aren't fooling around! Plus, while the Cambridge Marriot that I'm more accostumed to may have escalators, but does it have a high speed hive of glass bubble elevators?!?! [Answer: It does not.] So we made pretend we were staying at the hotel (which was hard to do since our clothes weren't made of gold) and rode the elevators up and down like two mentally deficient meerkats, all the while Monique would clutch at my arm and weep that she didn't want to crash through the ceiling. I'm beginning to think she shouldn't have been shown any movies before she turned 10.

Isn't this a nice picture of Times Square that I took? So nice with the bright lights and the menacing cabs! Except, I didn't take this picture. For if I had, a.) I would have needed to remember not to leave my camera in Brooklyn that first night and b.) mastered time travel, since that Coke bottle sign is now for Budweiser and that sign on the left for Chicago is for the play, not the movie. So I just stole someone else's old NYC pic from Google. So sue me. [Please don't sue me.]

So after flirting with overpriced box-sets at the Virgin MEGA Store (it's MEGA you see) and looking upwards to the TRL set that all the foolish fools gather at each afternoon we made our way to where Brett's improv show was {there was an interlude at a bar called Bull Moose where we met Brett's at-the-time-unnamed new improv group and it was smokey and they were blasting Queen but it doesn't really fit in with the narrative so I'm cutting it. Sorry Bull Moose}. The club that Boss Tweed's last show commenced was located above a porn shop, a fact that Monique would let NO ONE forget the entire time we were there. "Do you know that as we sit here right now there are guys downstairs that are. . ." "YES. I KNOW. I UNDERSTOOD THAT FACT EVEN BEFORE YOU INFORMED ME OF IT THE LAST TWELVE TIMES." "I know, but did you know that there are people that have to clean that up?!" *Sigh* So anyway, when we first got there, not counting the gateway of porn you had to pass, the first thing you notice is that the former strip club that the show was housed in apparently had built itself around a Circus Theme. Yeah, I don't really get it either. Anyway, there were all these life-size macabre evil clown sculpture things in these displays and they were positioned in a way that they were all groping towards my eyes suggesting they wanted to gouge my optical nerves out with a melon-baller. You know the feeling. Also, there was a monkey riding a tiger. Yup - that old chesnut. Anyway, so there we are, shiny glass tiles and turn of the century demented circus freaks abound, when I start to notice that these improv people do not believe in simply shaking someone's hand or maybe patting them on the back. Or even licking their adam's apple. Oh no, they like. to. hug. Me and hugging? We don't have a very good relationship. So of course, idiot that I am, I make a private reference to Monique that the "group seems awfully huggy" and that me, "me not so much like the hug." Well, that's all it took. Monique went over to Brett (who was warming up with his group members) and informed him that I felt �excluded from the group hugs.� Have I ever mentioned that I hate Monique? Anyway, we actually got to see two groups. The first one, whose name escapes me right now (but it was probably something like Pistachio!, Bedlam Crackers, or Vulvas For Sale), was pretty good, but you KNOW Boss Tweed kicked their ass! Plus, Boss Tweed had a hot Asian girl in their group so they got extra points anyway. (I�m starting to think I should have re-thought my costume at that PSC party a few weeks ago and went with a kimono) Brett incorporated many a ring-tailed lemur into the show and I loved every lemur-tastic minute of it. We went home afterwards, ate food, drank beer, and after Monique requested that we "play that game you always mention in your journal", we played us some Estimation. Wow. That was quite a meta-moment. Right now, not then.

The best thing about Saturday morning was that I wasn't up for most of it. No early rising for a shift at the Wallakers. Nope, instead, it was loutish Monique stomping into the living room and oh so gingerly exclaiming, "I hope you're up, 'cause I'm a-gonna smoke." Saturday was abso-flipping-lutely beautiful. It was in the 60's, nice breeze and Central park was on the agenda. And Central park is what we did. But not until sometime after wasting the morning playing CTR, Burgertime, and Tapper. Mmmmm, sleeping in and playing video games. With russian blue cats scampering to and most definitely fro. We entered the mammothly huge Central Park in the Strawberry Fields entrance. Awww - it was sad, but I loved it. I took pictures of the Imagine mosaic thingy and people had put little pictures and flowers down for John and George. Sad. But nice. Plus, a very fat lady walked by me and whispered loudly, "I'm CLEAN!" This was not sad. It was funny. And Brett and I got lots o' mileage out of it that weekend. We walked through the Shakespeare Garden. I liked it. It was nice. There weren't any flowers. But there will be. It's Spring now. I like Spring. Ugh. Sorry, I got stuck there for a second. No, but the garden had all plants that were mentioned in Shake-daddy's plays and it was really cool. It was cool. And there were weather castles and people and dogs and an unexpected amouny of unicycles. Hands up if you guys remember Thoth. Come on, THOTH? I'm putting smart money on at least Curtis and Coty remembering Thoth. He was this weird ass musician guy who lives/performs in Central Park and made up his own language and dances around half naked dressed in feathers and plays gourd-looking fiddles. Anything? Some documentarians made a film about him and it won an Oscar a few years ago and for like three months afterwards, peppering punchlines with a "Thoth" reference was de rigeuer. Anyway, I GOT TO SEE THOTH. Oh how he was a prancin' like a prancing pony. He is insane. And I was too scared to take a picture of him (besides, he'd probably think it stole his soul, and I'm not in the market for Thoth souls.) Apparently, Thoth's homebase is also where They Might Be Giants also filmed their video for "The Statue Got Me High". At least that's what I think Monique said, I don't know, I was kind of in a trance over Thoth. And then we were going to walk through the Rambles (or Brambles) but I got scared. But mostly lazy.

My man, Thoth

Said Statue - also, that's Brett and Monique facing the statue on the left. The monument of granite sent a beam into their eye!

We spent the rest of Saturday in the Village eating ice cream and cruising the vintage record and bootleg stores. (Not Bootlegger stores, that's something quite different.) We had the best ice cream ever at this place called Cones. They had Terimisu ice cream! Hotchie Motchie! I got Coconut Mint Chocolate Chip. So good. So so good. We even went to Forbidden Planet. Big comic store. I love it. There was the possibility of going to a big party on Saturday night, but Monqiue's full blown social anxiety mixed with my minor case of social anxiety and all of our immense feelings of exhaustion drove us to get in the subway, go back to Brooklyn and STAY in Brooklyn. Because you know what they say, No Sleep 'Till Brooklyn. {Oh come on, you knew I had to make the joke eventually, and now it's out of the way}. Monique was the only one that actually took a nap and poor Brett was finally forced to donkey punch her in order to wake her up after three 'please wake-up' 's, four alarm clocks and two cats wouldn't do the trick. We were mulling over whether we should pour cold water into one bowl and warm into another. We'd put her hand in the warm and throw the cold in her face. We just had to decide if we wanted her to pee and then wake up in shock or wake up in shock and then pee. By the time Brett swayed my vote to "Wake up and then watch in horror as you uncontrollably urinate" she was awake, so it was a moot point. Boooo! While Monique slept and even after sahe awoke, Brett and I played CTR. And then we played even more CTR. Brett tested his karmic mettle by playing AS COCO BANDICOOT (who I would girlishly giggle whilst pronouncing Cocko Bandicoot - what wit!) But, he did earn the respect of House Champions everywhere by introducing a new phrase into the Coco Bandicoot lexicon, to be followed by "Pass It On!", "Bandicoot Power!", and "Not Cool!" My friends, I introduce to you: "Eat A Dick!" (But you have to say it in that ascending helium-tinged inflection that Cocko does best) Plus, Brett and I shared an intimate moment with the animal with the recombiant DNA of a dingo and a crocodile - that's right, our old friend Dingodile. Then we watched Scotland, PA. It was pretty sweet. It has Maura Tierney in it. Have I ever mentioned that? I like her. A lot. Have I mentione that too? I know we all finally went to bed sometime around the closing of the E.R. Theater. Don't ask me, I don't get it either.

Vapor Worthy

Sunday morning we slept in. It was pretty sweet. Brett had a class and rehearsal that day so it was pretty much up to Monique and I to find fun. And that only meant one thing: CANOLIS. Oh yeah dawg. Ca-Nol-Is. Mmmmmm. We went to this place in the Village called Veniero's. They had a MENU of pastries and canolis. So we got some fruity mixed drinks and expensive pastries. Heaven. Heaven is a place. A place where people. People eat canolis. And the canolis are fucking tasty. Monique followed me into random comic stores (poor girl), and I followed her into some random lard bars (poor me). Then we went to this toy store that she had been telling me about . . . holy fucking shit . . . I weeped openly at how cool this toy store way. SHe had told me they'd have "every toy from my childhood." A bold claim. Also, a valid claim. Seriously Clyde, it looked like Michael Shapiro's house exploded in this place. All the He-Man figures, G. I. Joe, Transformers, Thundercats, Bionic Six, M.A.S.K., old board games, smurfs, Dukes of Hazard toys, Pink Panther and Son toys! Pink Panther and Son TOYS! That's insane. My brain popped and I didn't end up buying anything for myself. But there's always a next time. There's always a next time.

We came home that night just in time for Simpsons and in time to order a large pizza from the slammin' pizza place down the street. ["Slammin'" is Brooklyneese for "scrumptious"] Another familiar sight that would greet us when we'd get back to the apartment was Niko, high above civilization, perched upon his cabinet roost and looking down slyly upon us mere mortals. Mortals and Misha. I love Niko. I asked Brett for Niko's hand in marriage. He said that would be fine with him. Hey, at least I didn't admit that I'm going to marry a carrot. Brett was so happy to find pizza when he got home that after another fine installment of Alias he made chocolate chip cookies! I love cookies! Also, I forget that I usually watch these high pressure and stressful shows all by myself. And apparently I get very vocal and yell at the screen and bite my hands and squirm and other various distracting type things. Whatever, I don't usually have an audience to my audience! I don't quite recall what we did Sunday night but I know it involved staying up late and drinking. That was pretty much the plan EVERY night.

Beep Bop Beep Boob Bop!

Monday morning was St. Patrick's Day. Brett, the poor sap, actually had to go to work. Monique on the other hand called work and told them she had "female troubles." She figured it worked for Friendly's, why not a gigantic banking operation. Hoo boy was it ever St. Patrick's Day. And was there ever a parade. Monique and I went to Rockefeller Center which was smack dab in the middle of a parade. We got semi-taken in by a con artist with Irish hats for sale, we watched a bit of a parade and then she was off for an appoitment and left me there all by lonesome in the middle of the parade. It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. Instead, I poked around the ice skating rink, took some pictures and then decided to check out the NBC Studios Store. Ok. See. This might not have been the wisest move. NBC and I have a pretty spotty relationship. We've had our dizzying highs and we've had our sloppy lows. NBC would always try to get me drunk and when I wouldn't go along with it would tell me it was going home to sleep only to go off three towns over for some booty call. So yeah, there were definitely some raw wounds still there. But I put on my brave face and strode in their proud as a peacock. An NBC peacock if you will. So of course there's 6 million pieces of merchandise with "Friends" and "Will & Grace". I honestly would have bought a W&G shirt if one said, "Where's my Zuchinni?! I'm looking at you Will and Grace!" But sadly, none did. The tiles of the floor had pictures of casts from past and present NBC shows. Oh sure they had St. Elsewhere and they had Hill Street Blues and these things made me happy. BUT, they did not have any NewsRadio. Maybe I was just missing it. I saw that they had some "Cheers" stuff and scattered merchandise from a few other older shows. So I went up to one of the clerks and asked him, "I know this is a longshot, but would you have any merchandise with anything from NewsRadio?" And he stares at me sand shoots back, 'The thing with NewsRadio is, it was cancelled. And we don't carry things from shows that were cancelled from NBC." And. then. I. stabbed. him. in. the. neck. It was not a good scene. What with me stabbing him in the neck and all. There were other alternatives for me. Lisa was on the ER stuff as Abby, Joe was on Fear Factor stuff, Bill . . . sniff, was on tons of SNL stuff. BUT I DIDN'T WANT ER, FEAR FACTOR AND SNL STUFF. I WANTED NEWSRADIO STUFF. ARGH. I was one upset apple cart that afternoon. So how did I take it out on NBC?? How did I show them my volcanic fury?! I paid them $17.50 to take me on a tour of NBC studios. I suck so bad. And for my trouble I got to see the Caroline Rhea set and the Later with Carson Daly set. Be still. My beating heart. But I did get to see the Studio 8H set, where they film SNL, so that was pretty sweet. Next time I go to NYC again, I'd like to see Conan or the Daily Show I think.

If you look under what appears to be the Brazilian flag on the left hand side, right under that is the nefarious NBC store where hell hath no fury like a NewsRadio fan scorned. Plus, that ice skating rink is WAAAAY smaller than you think it is.

I met up with Brett outside his office building (which just so happens to be right outside Radio City Music Hall as well) around 5 and we met Monique at the Bedford Ave. stop in Brooklyn and went back home. The plan was to go to this restaurant called Bean. Mexican place. No liquor license, so you brought your own. I loved it! I even ate all the beans and rice and a few spicy things that I usually cry over! Well, I still cried a little, but not much. It was great. We ate outside on the sidewalk and the waitress would bring us our own personal supply of Leffeweisen, or Weissenheffe, or whatever the hell the German beer was called that we bought at the Polish store. Some kind of Heffe-Weisen. We ate, told tales of green bracelets, and mocked Brooklyn Industries, the upscale clothing store, from afar. We also made the plan to go up on the roof when we got back. The roof that the lease specifically forbids one from exploring. Hey, me not sign no lease. So we got home with a new 6 pack of Luieffe-Woosen and I shimmied my way up the roof access stairs and pop went the ceiling trap door and there we were, up on the roof. It was so warm out. We had a perfect view of the Empire State Building, lit in green for the holiday, the Chrysler Building and an inside an enormous half naked man's window. He was eating chips. Brett totally grounded Monique and I for being such Johnny/Janey Junior High's and tittering every time we got an eyeful of this zeppelin's tummy. Oh how we laughed. Oh how we knew we shouldn't. Oh how Brett misunderstood the phrase "hang the ham." Oh how that made us laugh even more. After a few beers each and realizing that night, roof, and beer don't mix we went back downstairs. I even took a crazy picture roof ladder of Brett and Monique looking down. It was crazy. And it came out great! Want to see it?! Here ya go:

See, it's pretty crazy huh? And for those of you wondering if Brett is "special" - he is. Very.

Writing an entry as long as this one (it's almost a 100 years old!) takes a lot of work - so that's why I'm going to cover Tuesday morning now. Tuesday morning saw me getting up very very early and we all got ready, got dressed and left for the subway by 7:30. Ugh. I couldn't believe it was time to go home. I didn't care about leaving Brett and Monique, but I knew I was breaking the little russian hearts of Mish and Necromancer. And they broke mine. And they broke mine. We said our tear-streaked goodbyes on the subway and Brett dropped me off safely at Grand Central Station where he had met me 4 days before. But I was a different person now. I wasn't terrified of my MetroCard anymore. Plus, I had bought a rare Talking Heads record and a Pac-Man shirt. Other than that . . . yeah, I guess I was pretty much the same. Oh yeah, and engaged to a cat. But that's just a minor little detail. Andrea met me in Stamford and we went home via Danbury and stopped at everyone's favorite restaurant, Rosie Tomorrow's! Hooray! And then I came home. Home. And my room was covered in sawdust. Bye bye city fun. Hello Rollinsford sawdust. On the upside, I did get to go Cosmic Bowling once I was back at home. I didn't do THAT in the city. On the downside, I did get to go Cosmic Bowling once I got back home.

There's no place like home

It's been real,

Melvin Purvis

~ FAVORITE QUOTES FROM MY TRIP TO NYC ~

(keep in mind, most of these quotes were repeated about 17,000 times)

"That old chesnut!" - Zach

"She really got me good!" - Monique, detailing the 'mauling' she got from Misha

"It puts me in the mind of a parable . . ." - Brett

"In my butt!" - All (sometimes in unison)

"Beep Bop Beep Boob Bop!" - Niko, after learning to speak

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