MRod says: Is the crew ready? Like spaghetti.

My bed head can get out of control at times, but Larry King takes that to a whole new level!  His hair looks like a bastard child between Conan O’Brian and Don King.

Get your finger outta that ol’ electrical outlet, Larry.  I know you’re senile, but that’s just not right for your health or ours, for that matter.  Put a hat or suspender on those follicles before some kids get hurt, Larry.  Thanks.

1. Robin Prosser died on Oct. 18.  She committed suicide after a 20 year struggle with an autoimmune disease that left her constantly in pain, as well as allergic to most pharmaceutical painkillers.  Medical marijuana alleviated her suffering,  which was confiscated by the DEA–overriding state laws permitting medical-use marijuana–last spring.  The DEA walked away with approximately less than half an ounce from Prosser.  Unable to withstand the pain wrought by her condition, she committed suicide.  Federalism, hello?  On one issue, I share the same outrage with Andrew Sullivan (linked above).

2. There’s no sex in the champagne room Airbus A380 with “the world’s first airborne double bed.”

3. Crazy mofo New Yorkers.

4. Turn your bitmap image into vector (thanks to the smarty pants at Stanford)!

5. Tiny woman defends her convenience store against a gun wielding robber by slamming around a fuckin ax!  I love it!

6. 10 questions that are illegal for an employer to ask you during an interview.  I answer yes to all of them.

7. Great shoe organizers.  Will someone buy me about 8 of these?  KTHANXBY

I certainly was not expecting to see an article in the Times on Sunday morning analyzing the recent surfacing of the neologism “vajayjay” that has emerged on TV shows such as that minor hit Grey’s Anatomy, and from the mouths of influential people aka Oprah who can act as a social vehicle that illuminates, transports, and legitimate a subculture to the mainstream.  I call it “jj” for short.

Yes, I have the humor sensibility of a seven year old. Check out this hilarious clip of a cheetah deciding to deuce through the open sunroof of this safari guy’s car.

“Hey, I’m not sure if I dreamt this, because I had some pretty fucking weird dreams last night, but did someone fall off the roof last night at the party we were at?”

“Yea, they did!”

“On to the fucking street?!?”

“No, he fell through skylight into their neighbor’s apartment!”

“How did that party not get shut down?”

1. The NY Times Joe Torre haiku contest: pen your paean to this much respected, now departed skipper in 5-7-5.

2. Paul Krugman came across an interesting, but wholly unsurprising statistic: In America today, there are more World of Warcraft players than farmers.

3. Commentary on airline branding. None of them are as cool as my home state’s proud airline, except when they sell out for this monstrosity.

4. This blogger pretty much mirrors everything I think about the Cleveland Indians. Bad racism karma!!!

5. New York Magazine, you know, that investigative powerhouse, thinks they may have tracked down the real DB Cooper–ya know, that white dude who hijacked a plane, demanded cash, and then later jumped out with a couple parachutes.  It’s a pretty engrossing article.  I’m such a sucker for these legends, which is why I suppose they are considered legends.

6. Anatomy of balloon dogs.

This is a poster that I think all proud dog owners would like to hang around their neighborhood, work, gym, and their favorite bars. And Famous Rays, as well. Because a dog this awesome should be famous.

(Via)

Damn this music video is trippy, kinda like my weekend.

And here’s the Killers destroying this song with their cover:

I went to a party with Tony, Lea, and Chris recently. Toshi was hosting an open bar casting party for topless (and body painted in appropriate areas) bartenders at his redonkulous parties. I went expecting to let off some steam. Instead I reached a new high, or low depending on one’s perspective in my social history in New York.

I woke up the next morning resting half way on the bed with my legs dangling and still wearing my clothing from the night before. Having blacked out for most of the night I do not recall most of the photos below nor my actions that night.

The party was being held in some loft space in Chinatown. We buzzed and buzzed the elevator but it never showed up. A portentous warning that we should have paid attention to and walked away.

We did not heed the warning and instead walked up 7 flights of stairs.

We were a tad early to the party, but when you’re friends with the girl who helps run Toshi’s parties you’re never too early for the open bar! Chris and Lea begin the obligatory vertical and horizontal peace signs. I should have taken a photo of him, but when we finally walked in, we noticed the guy running the elevator just sitting there on the 7th floor and chillin’.

Black Tony, Asian Chris, and Lebanese Lea rocking the photo stereotypes (and I was fulfilling my Korean side by taking the photo).

Chris chatting with Tze. I think he was maybe apologizing for the jackass and toolish behavior of some of the people he arrived with.

Tze, Tony, and Chris. Aw, everyone looks so relaxed.

Lea was being careless with throwing around her purse, so Tony stepped in and fulfilled his role as the Defender of All Women (DOAW).

Mike showed up! Things started getting hazy for the photographer around his point. I also want to publicly apologize to the friend of the girl in the white tank in the background of this photo for not being able to speak coherently to her later that night. Damn that devil combination called Red Bull and Vodka! (1)

One of the girls “trying out” to be a bartender at Toshi’s parties. To his credit, he does pay them for one night of work basically making vodka tonics and serving beer a lot of money. Cash money millionaire. Cash money topless.

Disclaimer: The next photo was not taken by yours truly, but instead Lea who grabbed my camera and went nuts with it for awhile. But I’m a man secure enough in his heterosexuality as well as a strong proponent of equality to have a little something for my two lady readers as well:

Again, this photo of couple of the male bartender tryouts was snapped by Lea.

Ladies and gentleman, this “whoring oneself for money 101.” Tony decides, with our urging however, to tryout as well. I am demanding a 5 percent cut of his earnings.

I know you ladies are playing close attention to Tony here (I’m talking to you E. Connors), but check out the dude in the background paying extra close attention to the body painting taking place on the girl.

Mike, Me, and Chris.

Tony and his new friend, uh Destiny.

I’m guessing Mike is thinking “I have a girlfriend. I have a girlfriend. I have a girlfriend. That girl is topless. I have a girlfriend.” Lea is saying something like “YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH” to Chris.

Lea freaking out, Tony trying to reassure Lea that he is indeed wearing deodorant, and Brent in the background looking classy as ever in the wife beater and beer. I honestly don’t remember any of the photos really, beyond this.

Tony doesn’t really remember any of this from here on out either. But this is my favorite picture. It’s so…decadent. It looks like they are toasting to how great, wonderful, and perfect everything is in life. Open bars can create that illusion apparently.

Hahaha. This is probably my other favorite photo. Looks like Brent’s about to bust out his number one line on Lea.

The bar area was minimal hassle and fast!

Oh snap! Brent made the switch to …Red Bull and Vodka as well it appears!

Tony and I with Raven and Roxy. I wish I could remember this night because this guy Matt in these photo apparently had a really great time at the party.

This photo of Chris is funny, especially since the next day he said that he wasn’t that drunk. This photo says otherwise. Funnier yet, is the cat in the white hat (rhymes!) smiling at Chris. Run Chris, run!

Again I absolutely cannot recall this taking place ever, but it makes me laugh. Soon after this, Chris said that he put me in a cab. Before leaving, I rolled down the window and leaned out apparently and said to them, “Why are you guys leaving me? Why??”

That night, I hit the trifecta, the jackpot, the threeway parlay of a bad night of partying in New York:

1. Censored. Please call, IM, email me for this embarrassing action, which Mike unfortunately witnessed (SORRY MIKE!).

2. Throwing up inside a cab and arguing vehemently with the cab driver (SORRY CAB DRIVER!).

3. Calling 911 and speaking with the dispatcher (SORRY DISPATCHER!).

I am generally an outstanding citizen and my behavior above is very atypical. I tend to stick to reading at the libraries, volunteering with underprivileged children, and going to the gym.

1. I recently went out with a friend who claimed Red Bull and Vodka actually does not get people drunk. Fact: This night emphatically demonstrates that Red Bull and Vodka does in fact get people drunk, often to a dangerous degree–as in resulting in potentially physical harm.

I got a two-for-one celebrity sighting recently.  While standing in the doorway of the take out Chinese restaurant around the corner from my apartment, I saw my fellow Brooklynites Maggie Gyllenhaal and her husband Peter Sarsgaard.