Monday, October 31, 2016

The 2016 UNICEF Halloween Masquerade Ball.

It was nice to finally put on a tux and not have people assume I’d forgotten to do laundry again.

The event was definitely extravagant. Tickets were up to $50,000 each, and it was held at Clifton’s Cafeteria, a historic venue downtown which had been transformed into a fully-decorated five-story mansion. The theme of this year’s ball was “Wes Anderson”, so my mask was a tribute to The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Here’s more:

Normally, nobody likes the acoustic guitar guy at a party, but one of the rooms at this event was an intimidate music setting, featuring acoustic bands like Cold War Kids, who have a huge hit out right now, and were amazing live.

On one of the floors was a ballroom, complete with a gold dance floor. On another, a “photo booth” featuring a jungle setting, with a professional photographer taking pics. In the basement was a neon art installation, which I loved, because I fully believe the only good art is the kind you plug in.

There were open bars everywhere you turned, with bartenders pouring drinks with vodka bottles in both hands, followed by a splash of soda. Which meant there was a super-happy-drunken-dance phase, followed by the above 2 a.m. only-capable-of-listening-to-and-clapping-for-live-bands phase.

Friday, October 28, 2016

It Only Got Blurrier.

It was a helluva party. The only thing missing: breathalyzer tests at the exit, to make sure you were drunk enough.

More coming, after I sort through the photos to see what happened.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

That’s MR. Tuxedo, Thanks.

I’ll be wearing a tux tonight because I’m attending a fancy event. I may also wear it tomorrow in protest of casual Friday.

There should be some interesting celebrity interactions, live bands (including Cold War Kids), LA-inspired food (some fancy, some Dodger Dogs) and a very cool location.

I’ll attempt a sleep-deprived mini-recap tomorrow, and a more thorough synopsis once I fully recover. Let’s tentatively say Monday. Stay tuned.

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

I Help Write My Nephew’s Book Report.

“A guy who’d still be around if he hadn't hired such a gifted nap specialist.”

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

New York: A Photo Essay.

Two years ago, 132 W. 27th Street was a parking lot. Now it’s a gorgeous new hotel called Innside. Even a simple view of a rainy morning in New York from the elevator bank looks stellar. Make a reservation now, before the bedbugs catch on.

I’ve always liked the old painted-on signs of building tenants from the 30s, like this one for Hirschberg Cloaks. I want to wear a cloak. They shouldn’t just be for vampires and hookers.

After spending a night in the city, I went out and stayed with my mom for the rest of the weekend. Letting kids paint the storefront windows for Halloween is a great, old tradition in my hometown – and a nifty way to profile which demented ones may pose a future threat.

The Bryan brothers are to doubles tennis what Matt and Ollie Shevin are to competitive napping.

If you’re a grown man wearing overalls in public, wouldn’t it be a stronger statement to wear a trash bag?

Monday, October 24, 2016

It’s Nice To Be Nice To The Nice.

So, apparently airport security doesn't like it when you call shotgun before boarding a plane.

But airline employees love it when you ask them about their day. I did it at LAX, and the sweet woman from United asked me to come around to her side of the counter and pick a better seat on my flight. I upgraded from being crammed into the back of the plane to the extra-legroom bulkhead. Normally 90 bucks more – mine for free.

I know I’ve hammered United plenty, but I also know the employees do their best. It’s the corporate idiots who set up the system that overbooks flights, causing massive delays. The people at the counter must catch shit for this all day, because they sure did respond when I simply was nice and funny. I say “they” because yesterday, before my return flight on JetBlue, I approached the counter, and thus:

Same seat, different airline. No extra fee, and I was able to board early. The lesson: people just want to feel appreciated. Try it.

P.S.: It was a super successful trip, and I’ve got several groovy pics that I’ll share tomorrow when I catch up on sleep. Until then, be nice.

Friday, October 21, 2016

For The 19th Time:

Flying United is like stepping on a Lego.

Yesterday, my flight was delayed four times, and was four hours late. Or as they like to call it at United: “Thursday”.

Every time one of their flights is delayed (let’s face it: every flight is delayed), the flight attendants tell me they don’t get advance warning either. I’m glad I got up at 5:30 a.m., brought Ricky to the kennel, parked my car and got a text on the shuttle to the airport that I would have lots and lots of time to kill.

United, you will absolutely go out of business. And JetBlue, I’ll never be inside someone else ever again. I promise.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Heading To The Melting Pot, Corners Where We Selling Rock.

I’d rather have a crying baby on my flight than a white dude who just did a trip to Thailand and can’t stop talking about it.

Fingers crossed it goes my way today, as I fly to New York for a meeting. I’ll stay in the city tonight, then visit my mom the rest of the weekend.

I’m unfortunately flying United today, which is like being in prison, but without the toilet wine. It’ll be JetBlue for the return flight, however, so thank you Jesus in advance.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Spanky Shows No Mercy.

Only my brother’s kid could shame a woman quite this way. Granted, it was against a Red Sox kid, so I wholeheartedly approve: my nephew ripping a home run last night off Nomar Garciaparra’s daughter.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

My 2700th Entry.

My writing style can be described as: “If a sentence has less than 55 words in it, the bus will explode.” Thanks for bearing with me.

As is tradition, I’ve chosen my favorite five entries from the past one hundred:

Petco Park: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery. A little slice of paradise right by the place people traffic meth across the border. One man’s addiction here. 

New York: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery. If you can make it there without crying 31 times a day, you can make it anywhere. Fight back the tears here. 

Fraternal. He’s not an actual brother. It’s more like the way Hulk Hogan uses the term “brother”, which is much more meaningful. Get familial here. 

In Which I Just Miss Out On A Great Role. Difficult come, difficult go. Watch both happen here. 

Weekend In Kansas City, Part III: Glorious Food. We have the meats. Wolf them down here.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Weekend Rundown.

Someone was a huge fan of SNL’s monologue, in which puppies were handed out to the audience.

Even though I’d relish three days of sleep and a chance to lose five pounds, I got a flu shot.

I discovered a new way to freak me out: put a sweater on a statue of a little girl.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

A Brand-New Edition Of “Enlighten The Goyim”.

Whoever called it “fasting” for Yom Kippur should have instead gone with “Jews cleanse”.

Why do we fast? Because it’s a sacred commandment to observe a special occasion by practicing self-denial. I shouldn’t say “we” because a) I’m not much for religion (it’s all Harry Potter to me), and b) I already forgot why Jews fast on Yom Kippur.

But I am religious when it comes to eating, and was excited to attend my friend Marc’s annual Break Fast, with its wall-to-wall casseroles, blintzes, quiches and desserts. My friend Jeff taught me the fine art of pacing oneself through one continuous binge. Hero.

You know, when you think about it, Jewish women are arguably the most pious – they practice sexual self-denial every day of the year. Heroines.

Monday, October 10, 2016


Watching my nephew’s soccer game with Ricky on Saturday, before the ref came over and told me no dogs were allowed and we had to leave.

This dog is paying off in SPADES.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Gun To Your Head: Which Car Do You Drive?

A) Mercedes C-Class with headlight eyelashes

B) Decommissioned cab marked with an X so people stop getting into your back seat

C) Jalopy held together by Jets and Mets stickers

Or D) Just eat the bullet

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

A Retraction.

If someone upsets you, write a nasty letter and file it away before you say something you might regret. Then punch that person in the face.

If only the opportunity presented itself.

I have to recant some of my praise for Kansas City. I mentioned last week that someone waited until after we went into Arrowhead Stadium to spit on our rental SUV, punishment for the heinous crime of wearing Jets jerseys. Then, back in LA, something else occurred to me: when we returned the SUV at the KC airport, it had a little crack in the windshield. It wasn’t there before the game, so someone not only spit on our car, but threw something at it.

To the gentlemen who did this: are you that morally bankrupt? Forgive us for wanting to see our team play. My friend Mark commented on my post last week (in which I mentioned the spitting) that I should imagine what New Yorkers might do to KC fans’ cars in New York. I know exactly what: nothing. New Yorkers don’t feel threatened by other cities.

After posting what happened on the Arrowhead Stadium Facebook page, someone from stadium hospitality asked me to call her. She had her security team search through the stadium lot video footage to see if they could find anything. (They couldn’t.) She called me a second time, apologizing profusely, and I let her know it wasn’t her fault that some of her fans were animals.

I must clarify that Chiefs fans were not all bad, including a group of guys who came up to us after the game, and instead of humiliating us about how poorly the Jets played, made cool small talk. That’s the gesture of bona fide human beings.

Kinda how it should be, right? Right.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

30 Days Of September.

Best day of the month: finally making my mom proud, with an email from her that simply read “Hurricane Matthew strongest hurricane in Atlantic since ‘07.”

The other 29 days weren’t half bad, and here they are, in the form of one second per day: