Well then

Not the best week, all told. I am sick and everything is kind of lacking in luster. On the upside, a co-worker just told me Calista Flockhart "looks like an inside-out elk." What that statement lacks in accuracy, it makes up for in hilarity. Well-done, sir.
Maybe I'll have some stuff to say this weekend, maybe not. If not, have a fantastic holiday, friends.

What's shakin?

I'll tell you what is shaking.

- I recently received the dirtiest text message of my short and semi-innocent life. It was sent by a girl named Nicole (not the Nicole,) who goes by 'Niclit' on Myspace. She told me to "cum to seattle," among other things. We've met once and I didn't even kiss her. Anyone else grossed out? Maybe I'm a prude.

- I found five bucks in a copy of House of Sand and Fog I picked up off the street.

- With this five dollars (plus a few more), I finally bought a plane ticket to Toronto. I will be visiting the lovely Rebecca Kohler, a friend of mine and a very funny stand-up comedian. While there, I am also going to meet the other Jesse Hirsch. His name is actually Hirsh, but everyone gets it wrong. He hangs out with Noam Chomsky and Howard Zinn. His wife is a feminist science fiction writer. Should be a trip. It's like meeting my alter-ego.

- My Kryptonite lock rusted shut after leaving it out for several rainy nights. Unfortunately it is locking my bike to the Porter Square subway stop. The key is useless. Any suggestions for liberating my LandRider?

-The photo of Nicole and I is showing in Times Square every day this week at 4:38 pm. It was voted one of the best in the Nationwide Insurance promotion. You can visit the webcam here.

- In a mildly ironic twist of fate, while that picture shows 50-feet tall on the marquee, Nicole has gotten betrothed. (Oh yeah, we broke up. Did I mention that?) I guess she's marrying Sergio, a handsome gay South American ballet dancer. I'm not making this up. One time I ate brunch with my Uncle Oliver, his wife Marcia, Sergio and Nicole. Wow. Is this life or a Spanish soap opera?

Here is my final tribute to Nicole and Jesse on Confetti in My Hair.
Thanks for the archived photo, Alli.

More stories of Jesse and Nicole will be eventually be published at heartland hinterland, which is undergoing a brief hiatus.

Do you believe in magic?

Yeah so after searching every inch of the house for hours on end, all of a sudden Grayskull is sitting in the middle of the living room, looking up at me like "What's the problem?." I suspect she just returned from a VisionQuest.

High and low

I stayed home from work today with a head cold. I was going to regale you with stories of my wild weekend, beginning with Ecstasy in an empty house in Gloucester and ending with finger sandwiches at a Jewish community room in Amherst. In between there was Carnivale, a Pee-Wee's Playhouse marathon and much more. However, Grayskull appears to be lost again and I can't seem to think of anything else. I am going to post pictures from this weekend but just pretend all of us are looking for my missing kitty.

Jesse and Cailin in the preliminary stages of organizing a search party.

Desiree searches a wooded glen.

While Lani keeps a vigilant eye, Hailu expresses his displeasure with the sad situation.

Safari Outtakes '06

(Forgot to finish this post earlier in the week)

Even in the most polished productions, there are going to be a few behind-the-scenes bloopers and mishaps. This was even true at our yard sale last weekend. Roll the gag reel:

1) Sharon made lemonade with Italian liqueur in it. My homie Cailin drank a cup and said she felt woozy in the sun. Oops, while we weren't looking, a chubby little European boy drank two cups. Luckily his mom bought the K'nex set, a big ticket item at $4.

2) It was a safari tag sale, though we wore no costumes, didn't decorate the house or yard, didn't play safari music and didn't even call the boozy lemonade "Jungle Juice" (we called it Magic Lemonade.) The only safari thing was the unapproachable unmowed grass our items were displayed in.

3) To grab the attention of potential customers, Josh hung a silver asbestos jacket over the "For Sale by Paul Martinez" sign in front of our house. It probably grabbed Paul Martinez's attention, when he came by at noon to show the house to potential buyers. With the combination of general chaos, blaring hip-hop, Cailin's barking dog in the living room and the pervasive smell of cat litter, we probably scared off the uptight homebuyers. I don't mind; Paul Martinez is a creep. A creep with a system.

4) Seconds after a male next-door neighbor came up our steps, wearing a woman's bathing suit, he said "I've been puking all morning." He got the quick tour.

5) Daytime safari boozing made me too logy for Kyle's Summer of No Tomorrow Party that night. I stood around feeling dazed and confused for a couple hours until it was time to get in Cailin's car and drive away from Woo-burn. Oh well, it looked like the party went well for Kyle, with or without my full consciousness.

6) There were no customers. We spent more money on preparation than we received for goods and libations. But hey, we all (Cailin, Jesse, Sharon, Josh, Sharon's sister Alli, Alli's boyfriend Tom and a rotating cast of friends and neighbors) had a good time out in the sun. And we know we'll do better when we attempt this again in a couple months. We have ideas.
Yard Sale 2- "This time it's personal!"

Slinky Dog, the official mascot of Safari Tag Sale 2006, was available for use but not for purchase.

Train

When I woke up this morning, my first thought was about how a co-worker might give me an air conditioner for my room. Then I thought about how jealous my roomies would be and that made me kind of guilty. Then I thought about how teachers used to say "Did you bring enough for the whole class?" when you engaged in solo snacking. My last thought was "Why should the whole class get some of my snack? Isn't that kind of a commie attitude?"

Proof of Life

At 4:53 PM Monday afternoon, this old photo of me and Nicole showed in Times Square on a 50-foot screen. I sent it in to Nationwide Insurance as part of a super-cool promotion. I chose this skydiving photo because I thought it would be the most conducive to a big screen send-up. I doubt Nicole saw it displayed but I don't know. It really doesn't matter. I did it for myself, like carving my name in a tree or shouting in a cave to hear my own echo.

They seemed so nice on Wikipedia

Faroe Island Baby Seal Hunt

Willy Wonka's next stop

I'm not trying to be rude, but check this out. The Faroese almost out-cute puppies.

(I'll save the bad news for tomorrow.)

Fever

I'm curious to know why everyone has World Cup Fever all of a sudden, when five or ten years ago you couldn't give soccer tickets away. Now everyone is all "Seriously Ecuador is doing awesome this year" and "Czechslovokia sure surprised everybody, eh?" I'm not saying it's bad to enjoy this really awesome sport. I'm just saying people should stop frontin' like they been wid it all the time. And now, in honor of the festivities, please view this incredible display of soccer magic and power. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present two of the greatest footballers of all time:

Zidane Vs Ronaldinho!

It's true I don't run fast

I used to have the Geto Boys perennial favorite "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta" on my answering machine. After about ten seconds of the tune, I came on with my most Ned Flanderish voice and said, "You've reached Jesse, Jessica and our kitty! We are so happy you called! Leave a message!"

Obviously the joke was the contrast between geeky whitebread me and the tough inner city lyrics of the song (similar to when it was used by the wizards who made Office Space.) But this morning, as I walked into my whitecollar downtown job wearing my IPod, I lost my sense of humor. Or at least my sense of decorum. I unconsciously adopted a gangsta swagger. I gave cool, hard looks to anyone I passed. I felt like no one better fuck with me.

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
Feedin' the poor and hepin out wit they bills
Although I was born in Jamaica
Now I'm in the US
makin' deals.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta
I mean one that you don't really know
Ridin' around
town in a drop-top Benz
Hittin' switches in my black
six-fo'

If that doesn't sum up my life, I don't know what does.

C'mon a my house, a my house!

Are you lacking that certain something?
Looking for household items, knick- knacks, costumes, electronics, music and books?
Searching for something to do, somewhere to go? Care for a snack, a drink, a good conversation with fun people?

Then come on over to 209 Summer Street
Saturday, June 17th, 10-4pm.
Tag Sale- Bake Sale- Daytime Safari Party
___________________________________________

Vintage Collectibles
Electronics
Quality Music/ books
Kitchen Items
Clothes and costumes
Jewelry
Living room rug
Baskets/ Containers
Lemonade, Fresh baked Sweets, other Refreshments
And more

For more details call Jesse at 608-320-1769

Join Jesse, Sharon and Josh this Saturday!

And we all shine on

This is also from Martha's Vineyard. I like it so much, even though it reveals me as the scruffy hungover wreck many people are getting a taste of lately. I will try to put this picture on as many parts of the Internet as possible.

Photo creds: Cat

Goldisocks

In the past week, I have found three different unexplained girls socks in my room. It confuses me, which probably reveals that there haven't been many um, overnight guests in the past couple months. Last night I tried to puzzle out the sock phenomenon with Sharon's little sister, who is living with us for the summer. Her sister seems young, cute and innocent. That's why, when she suggested that "strange women were probably getting naked in my room while I slept," I nearly choked on my Flavor Ice.

Well I would have, if I had been eating a Flavor Ice. I actually just turned bright red, mumbled something like "girls, socks, feet" and scampered from the room. The end.

Hey everybody, let's try for a post a day. Is that such a big deal? I would call this guy a model, except that he seems to have recently fallen into a pit of craziness.

Vine Yard

Day late and a dollar short, but but let me give a pictorial overview of my little jaunt to Martha's Vineyard last weekend. Let's start with a couple of my closest homies:

Here is Jenny, owner of the house that we stayed in. She is a very nautical person. Each year, her family publishes what I call the "Farmer's Almanac of the Sea." Or maybe the "Sailor's Almanac." Instead of wind and frost patterns, it describes wind and tide patterns. Land versus sea, you get it? It is a pretty fancy book. Many sailors use it. Jenny is nice.


This is Alli, many of you know her. We are like bff siblings. Lots of fun, some quibbling. We went to Chili's on the ride home from M.V. and spent most of our meal talking about the money shot (meanings, causes, synonyms, etc.) I didn't promise this would be a clean story.


We also had a real good time talking about how Bill Clinton and his family live in this oil tank compound near Vineyard Haven. And now, many days later, I find myself asking, "Was that funny or were you just drunk?"


Speaking of which...Jim Beam doesn't usually come in a yellow bottle, as my companions were quick to point out. It also usually costs more than thirteen dollars. That's because it was RYE, a whiskey relative that I knew very little about. I bought it because I was intrigued. I think it made me go blind.


I blame the rye for many things, like not being able to remember why Jenny is pouring beer in her hand.


NOW I remember- it's an old Martha's Vineyard home remedy! Her friend Cat is happy because Jenny just cured her diabetes.


I don't know about you guys, but this picture makes me think, "Is Alli going to doodle in her pretty horses notebook or is she going to do something bad to sleeping Sally?"


Actually I know the answer- "Alli is going to throw the box of crayons at Sally's head. She resents the fact that someone is sleeping peacefully." Alli then set the house on fire and cut a big gash in my neck.


Later that evening I was able to convince Jenny that I should have the guest cabin all to myself. That was probably the best part of the whole weekend, sitting up writing until 3 in the morning, smoking cheeba and listening to the rain. Perfect moment.


In fact, I developed a fantasy- bringing a girl there for a romantic mid-winter weekend. Sure, Jenny says the cabin isn't "winterized," but I think she underestimates my ingenuity. Right now all my ideas involve lighting furniture on fire, but it's a work in progress.


Here I am thinking about how to winterize the cabin. Not really, but check out my winter stash.

(Sorry ladies, I had to summerize my face. The mustache will not make a horrifying re-appearance until the weather is cold and I've given up on life.)

In the Face of Contradictory Reviews, Mike G Still Brings Something to the Table

Posting:
Michael Joseph

Date: Jun 10, 2006 2:07 PM
Subject: attention cape cod scumbags
Body: I have a hotel room in Orleans tonight. Call me if you want to get weird.

Instructive Tale For My Readers

KIEV (Reuters) - A man shouting that God would keep him safe was mauled to death by a lioness in Kiev zoo after he crept into the animal's enclosure, a zoo official said on Monday.
"The man shouted 'God will save me, if he exists', lowered himself by a rope into the enclosure, took his shoes off and went up to the lions," the official said.
"A lioness went straight for him, knocked him down and severed his carotid artery."

Goodbye and Hello

There comes a time in every blogger's life when they say, "What am I doing? Blogging is so lame and self-indulgent!" And so today, I bid a fond farewell to blogfriend Dacey, whose pop culture commentary and tales of drunken debauchery have entertained me ever since I got this boring job. I guess she has some fancy position now that she cares about (weak) so she has no time to write. Head on over and say farewell.

We have lost an ally, but never fret. In order to maintain the world's eternal blog balance, there are two new entrants in the confetti blogosphere*. Say hello to Sue and to Alli, both of whom are real-life friends. I think you'll like the groove they're putting out in the world.

*Blogosphere, ech. I believe it was Public Enemy who said "Damn if I say it you can slap me right here."

The Missing Link

Before I give a full de-briefing on Martha's Vineyard, I would like to discuss a bizarre phenomenon we witnessed on the ferry ride home. Alli and I were sitting by the railing, nursing our hangovers and talking about things the body does. All of a sudden we noticed a commotion about 30 feet away. A plump little child was feeding Cheetos to seagulls while tourists snapped thousands of photos.

At first, he was just tossing the snack treats in the air, watching the gulls swoop in and catch. Then he got bolder and enticed these winged wonders to snatch the Cheetos out of his hand. And before we knew it, he was holding Cheetos between his thumb and forefinger...in front of his eye! Wow, they just don't come dumber than that.

Yes, he was the Idiot King, but he definitely had some contenders for the crown. I mean, this kid was about 10 or 11 years old. Children are naturally stupid. So what is the excuse for the gang of tourists who followed the pre-teen's lead and started feeding the gulls out of their own hands? I don't think there is one.

Before we knew it, there were people standing around everywhere with food outstretched in their hands, squealing with delight as the 'pigeons of the sea' started getting bolder and terrorizing everyone on the ship. I guess the tourists thought it was an open-air petting zoo, because they also whipped their bagels, chips and hot dog buns to and fro, ensuring there was nowhere safe to stand on deck. The birds started pooping, screeching and swooping down on people who were just trying to eat in peace. Alli ran away and curled up in the fetal position.

A pictorial review:
Hey you, wee man in the red t-shirt! Sure, you look pretty innocent with your fanny pack and your dull little eyes. But you don't fool me- you're the Pied Piper of the Vineyard Ferry!
"Hey that little urchin is onto something, let's invite those screeching filthbirds onto the ship!"
Dumb woman, Smartfood. I feel like these people would've offered up their wallets and jewelry to get attention from the birds.
And here is the, how you say, money shot.

Proletariwhat?

Last night at Mr. Dooley's with the milkman, I ordered a friggin' lobster. Today I am weekending on Martha's Vineyard. Please don't tell the working class or they'll never let me come to their rodeos and pancake breakfasts.

Too little too late (mediocre journey, part 3)

At this point I don't have the energy or desire to finish the story of Grayskull's Grand Day Out. Instead, I will let Simon tell you. This is an excerpt from the lengthy email he sent the day after I claimed L'il Special. I've inserted my own commentary in bold.

You may be interested to know that she's had quite a vacation - my roommate was celebrating her dissertation defense yesterday and about 1:30am when we were heading home we decided to continue on to our friends' place down Summer St. near Union Square at least a 20-minute walk. Your cat really likes walking with people - she just decided to join the party and follow us, and she stuck with us all the way there First I thought she was just being dumb and friendly. But what if she sensed the good in the hearts of these people, meaning she is instinctively wise? When we got there we thought we'd better take her in so she wouldn't get lost, so she investigated the house there, got a lot of fuss, and ate. Then we brought her back to this area, her walking happily with us most of the way. We let her wander around here a bit, but she didn't seem to know where to go, so that's when we took her in. She slept with my roommate on her bed last night Tramp, then this morning we took her out in the garden and she pursued the joys of bird-watching. After she came back in, she demonstrated a great sense of irony - she peed on my bed There you go just while I was getting some litter for her from the neighbor downstairs!

So that's the end of the story. It may interest you to know that Grayskull peed on Sharon's and my bed as soon as she got home. She has also been putting on worldly airs, much to Mister Lady's chagrin.