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This afternoon we had a blast.  It was hot as can be with a slight breeze.  We decided to try and walk down to the water of the East River, which is something that neither of us have ever done in the years that we have spent working there.  This is kind of odd considering that the water is only a few blocks away, but we said, “screw it we’re going”.

That’s what we did until we got to a dead end street, and then a street that we could see eventually ended as a chain link fence with a huge pile of old tires behind it.  This left the water a good few hundred feet away from us still, and killed out afternoon dreams of looking out onto the water of the East River.

After that we went back to our Ole Bessy of a standby, the swings.  They were great, and we even inspired the sole hipster walking around Long Island City to begin swinging with us - because he obviously saw that it was the hip thing to do.

Prior to all of this afternoons activity we had our very hooky brought to our jobs.  See, sometime around 10AM I heard really bad music being blasted really loud.  I thought it was one of the new guys on the floor listening to a really bad live cd of some awful band. 

Turns out that it was a real life mariachi band playing on our floor.  Not only were they a mariachi band, but they were a subway mariachi band.  One of the lawyers on my floor spotted them on the subway and then proceeded to bribe them into coming to Queens to play for “us”.

We I say “us” I really mean he got them to come up to our floor to play for the legal teams admin who everyone believes is sleeping with him.  

Yes, before you ask, both are married, in their 40s, and horrific looking to the point that any sex between them must be disgusting, and it probably involves the spraying of air freshener on each other before, during, and after sex. 

Yes, they are THAT gross.

Point is, we had one heck of a loud mariachi band playing a three song set on the far side of my building, and it was friggin loud, and yet funny in that creepy sort of way.

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While I love to garden, I’m so not a fan of working in my front garden.  Each and every person whether they know me or not feels the need to attempt to make small talk or at least feels the need to make the most obvious of comments.

Do they really think I want to spend a half an hour chatting with them about Floyd Bennett Field or the Daytime Emmy’s, let alone five minutes over their choice of cutting daffodil leaves post bloom as opposed to my tying them up to allow them to die back.  Apparently they think that annoying me while I am attempting to relax (gardening relaxes me for some reason) is just the friendly thing to do. 

But the worst people are the ones who just say with the biggest smiles on their faces, “I see you’re gardening!” then keep smiling as they wait for a response of some sort on my part.  Even worse than the worst are the ones who add a “Huh?” on to the end of their statement to say ‘I see you’re gardening, huh?”

I’m up to my elbows in dirt, plants and cutters in hand, are you honestly not sure that I am gardening?  These people make me want to ask quite rudely right back at them, “Do you still only read pop up books?”

Would “I see you’re walking” be appropriate to say to someone you pass on the street, heck no. 

Next time I’m in my front yard I think I’ll beat everyone to the punch by smiling at them and stating in question form, “Sky is blue, huh?”

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It’s more than official.  I have figured out the secret to getting complete strangers to do whatever you wish. 

It’s quite simple actually.  All you have to do is remember to call them Poppy, or Papi - depending on your taste for spelling.  In either case, the word is pronounced in that “Aye Papi” sort of way. 

Case in point, last night I was minding my own business playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories on PS2, when I heard a thud outside my front window.  Upon racing to the window to see if it was someone keeling over from a heart attack I was able to just catch the tail end of some teenager racing on a bicycle up the block laughing. 

Now the old Beehive would have raced out the front door barefoot ready to scream bloody murder at the youth (God damn kids) but the new mature and refined Beehive simply waited for the right moment, or possible just go outside and pick up the garbage can himself.  This waiting worked, as the bike rider/garbage can kickers two friends were walking up the block behind him.  I stood there pondering if they would pick up my can.  That’s when the original bike rider came riding back down and met his two friends two doors up from my window.

“Hey Poppy!”  I said sternly.

The bike riders head popped back from the stunning realization that someone just called him out on kicking over a garbage can, and the fact that he was just called “Poppy” - by a man no less.

“Yeah you Poppy.  How about that garbage can?”

“I’m Poppy?  This guy thinks I’m a Poppy?”  He said to his friends.

“Yeah Poppy you are.  You gonna pick up what you knocked over?  Huh Poppy?”

Sure enough the teenager went over and picked up the can, and as he picked it up he said loudly to his friends, “You know I’m only doing this cause he called me Poppy.  That was funny.”

I then thanked him in my usual friendly voice.

There you go.  A perfect example of using the name “Poppy” and getting results.

I implore you all to now go test this newfound findings yourselves by playing minesweeper in your cube while you wait for your boss to pass your cube.  Then when your boss passes your cube, just shout out very sternly, “Hey Poppy.  How about a raise?”

Trust me.  It’ll work all too easily.

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That’s right.  There are currently ducklings in at least two seperate locations within the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Here’s a shot of the ones at the water feature at the end of the cherry orchard. 

They are so cool, and there was another spotted over near the butterfly bush area.

No need to thank me for all that cuteness.

Happy photo duckling hunting!

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I went to the doctor today, and there’s some good news!  I’m not officially dying - yet!  This is very good news indeed, seeing as I couldn’t come up with anything on my list of things and places to do before I die - other than wait around neurotically for death to happen.

Plus I am pretty sure that from now on I’ll get to be one of the cool kids wearing medical bracelets.  I’m getting to pop my shopping for a medical bracelet cherry!

Yeah… I’m so cool.

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After an eventful winter involving my next door neighbors that has left any and all friendly attitudes and neighborly giving burned like the biggest bridge imagined they still make me wonder in amazement.

After not only attempting to chop down and kill my hedges, not apologize, then blow me off when I attempted to have them cease, and have them yell “shame on you” at me when the police were finally involved - then proceed to walk by as if nothing happened with the only difference being their looking away in anger from me… they have done it again. 

Since I’m home today I was watching the History Channel in the Tony Bennett Room.  I began hearing some rumbling ever now and then for a few minutes from what appeared to be my backyard.  I finally got up to look out a window, only to find mean old next door lady having her fold out chair in my backyard. 

Thinking that she was planning a point of attack against my flowers and plants I quickly put pants and sneakers on to run out and surprise her in the act.  As I went to get my cell phone I saw a guy standing just below another backyard window.  He was fiddling around with the wires of either my phone or satellite dish. 

“Can I help you?”  As I opened the window fully.

“No, I’m just looking?”  He said.

“No, seriously, what the hell are you doing in my backyard?”

“Checking your phone line.”

“My phone is working just great.  The telephone pole is over there.  Why aren’t you?”

“Your neighbors phone isn’t working right, so I’m checking yours.”

“Check it up there.  Our lines have nothing to do with one another at the house D-Marks.”  As I point to the telephone pole.

“If you want me to get off your property I will.”

“Please do.”

The phone company guy closes my box up, looks down in annoyance, and walks to go back over the four foot high chain link fence the the neighbors who I will never be neighborly to again.

As he walked I said, “Sorry for being mean to you, it’s just that I don’t like those neighbors.” 

He chuckled, and went off.

Now I have to go out get a couple of big planters, and plant some roses or thorny bushes in the spots that they can come over - cause being green is neighborly!

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Today marks the end of Fleet Week here in NYC, although there with be sailors in uniform here in the city for weeks to come that are not part of Fleet Week.  I might just be the only one that’s glad to see those guys get out of my city.

Yes, I am very grateful for people volunteering their time, lives, and for all the skills that they each bring with them to serve and protect our country as a whole, however, I’m not a fan of drunken sailors running through the city thinking that they are kings of the world - which happens in NYC in late May each year.  Not by most of them, but only a few rotten ones ruin the bunch.

Plus what I really see when I see these allegedly good boys running around our city in uniform, is something that is different than what most see, and it’s based off of what a former Navy man told me about his trips overseas.  I always picture all of these sailors in their white uniforms waiting on long lines for the nurse station back at their ships after stopping off in foreign ports, and partying with the local prostitutes, who in turn gave them some burning stds - literally burning, how they would be holding themselves on their crotch, and doing little dances to try to keep their weiners from what I’m told from burning off completely.

Next time you see a sailor, just imagine how he looked while waiting in line to fix his syphilis after stopping port some 6,000 miles away. 

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WOOO HOOO!!!  Today I have off from work and was hoping to sleep in really late this morning.  As I began to toss and turn at the beginning of my waking up I could have sworn that it was maybe 10 or 11AM and thought for a second WOW!  I really caught up on lots of sleep today.  Then I squinted over at the clock to see that it was in fact only 7:54AM.  This proves once again the party animal that I am.

So yeah, I get to play Vice City Stories, do laundry, water my now blooming summertime garden, play with my cat, oh, and let’s not forget the best thing ever, go to the doctors and talk about things that they’ve ruled out and other possible things that I may or may not be dying from.  All that I know so far is that Hepititus has been ruled out, and that’s good, cause that means that I was able to sleep with Pam Anderson numerous times without getting infected.*

All these tests is why I don’t like modern medicine.  Doctors are cautious as a bunch, and as such will test you for everything when “something doesn’t look right”.  Then they’ll keep you stressed out the entire time while they continue to look for possibilities of things that might be wrong with you.  I know that all of you are full of envy at this prospect, but please you shouldn’t be.

It partly makes me wish that I lived in any time before modern.  A time where only the strongest survived past childhood, and then if as an adult if you were going to die from something you would just die without much warning.   You’d just be walking along somewhere one day, feel the crippling pain somewhere, collapse, and then writhe in pain for however long it was until you went.  No worrying about having that moment happen years before the actual time…such a  simple life.

*I have never slept with Pam Anderson, she was the one who always slept with me.

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So Lindsay Lohan had one heck of a weekend.

This post will be all that I say about Linday until she pulls an Anna Nicole ends up in the news again, which is that Lindsay Lohan is the modern day Corey Haim.

Yes, sad indeed, while they both have drug problems at least Lohan doesn’t just lookgirly. 

I’m fairly sure that we can all picture poor little Lindsay in 20 years looking even crappier than she does now, and when we go to write our blogs about the new modern day Lindsay the only pics we’ll be able to find on the internet are the ones that are 20 years old, just like the Haim’s case. 

Yes, so sad will we be that our little Lindsay will have to be relegated to having this picture being the most relevent when we future google search her and drugs.

This picture will only let us wonder what ever happened to all of the really bad pictures of her.

My personal advice to the Linds would have to be this…try your hardest to get back to being the apparent beard for that guy from That 70s Show.

You just might live to be 40.

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I’ve found the most disgusting human being alive!

She rides the R train in the mornings a little before 8AM during the week, probably on her way to think up more ways to be disgusting her job as a nurse of some sort.

I know less than zero about this woman, but from what I’ve seen on the surface, she is most likely the dirtiest human being alive right now, and she does it on purpose!

See, while she might appear to be clean and “normal” in passing, if you were to look closer you would see that there is something odd about her face.  Besides the fact that she’s missing half of one eyebrow, her face has a little extra shine, and some extra speckles and globs of dirt on it if you will.  

If you were to see her on the R train you would know why.  It’s because she puts Vaseline all over her face each morning!  No, not moisturizing lotion, but Vaseline petroleum jelly, that type of Vaseline.   

If you’re not familiar with what Vaseline does to anything that its on, then the one thing that you will need to know is that any and all types of dirt that touches Vaseline gets stuck to Vaseline. 

Back in the third grade my class did a science experiment to see just how dirty the air is when it comes to pollution.  We took four empty mayonaise jars, globbed them up all over with Vaseline and then shoved them up our teachers ass (no you perv) placed the jars all over the schools outdoors premises.  One was closer to where we walked everyday, another was in the garden, another in the schoolyard, and the last was on our classrooms windowsill. 

We would then go around each week to see what had become of each empty jar covered in Vaseline, and each week we saw that they got filthier and filthier, until after a month we couldn’t see anything on any of the jars other than black soot. 

While I realize that the empty mayo jars never showered, and that this lady may very well shower on a daily basis.  All of her showering is for naut, and by globbing her face with Vaseline each morning she is only inviting more and more dirt to her face.  It’s disgusting, and completely unknown as to why anyone would do such things with Vaseline.  Note: if you want to be experimental with Vaseline, use an empty mayo jar, not your face!

Her face is a sad face indeed, as it just gets more and more filthy and disgusting with each and every passing hour of the day.  Until finally, she gets home, sits down, picks up her latest copy of a Nicholas Sparks book, then proceeds to pick her face clean from all of the filth that it acquired throughout the day.  (I assume to tell you the truth)  And while I’m assuming going to continue to give out first hand knowledge, I’ll go out on a limb ahead and bring you more facts, and say that she boils all of the pollution and filth that she picks off her face each night into a stew, freezes it, and takes it to work the next day to have lunch.  She’s a penny pincher in that way.  (I assume.)

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The Monday that is Memorial Day tends to be a slow news day involving the coverage of parades, but this didn’t stop a couple of eager idiots members of the CBS 2 crew to jump all over a casual story that would usually get swept under the covers and blow it all up out of proportion.  

The story should (if anything) have been about a car crashing through a store front and injuring six people, which is how all of the other local news programs covered it, but CBS 2 at 11PM last night took it a step further, and proclaiming one families holiday meal to be ruined.

Holiday Meal???  Does CBS think that yesterday was a type of Thanksgiving that families get together over a bucket of chicken and give thanks? 

Yes, Brendan Keefe, one families decision to dine out for their traditional holiday meal at their friendly Popeye’s Fried Chicken fast food establishment was ruined by one reckless driver - for shame.

Not only does CBS 2 cover the story as a holiday meal gone tragic, but they also go into the breaking news over how it could have been worse if the people had decided to sit in the window instead of the inner booth. 

Sadly, I couldn’t stay up to watch the rest of their news program to watch the horror that became of one mans innocent holiday walk across the street that was ruined by getting struck by a car and then see all of the what ifs… what if he was wearing a sombrero, just imagine how much worse the accident could have been. 

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Yesterday after work I was sitting at the end of the a bench on the E train minding my own business.  Then the doors opened at 5th Ave.  A tanned woman in her early 30s walked in, stood in front of me, grabbed the bar above me, and that was all it took.

Her boob was falling out, and I saw it!  Seriously, it was practically waving hello to me.

I’m talking about full on “hey my shirt is unbuttoned to my navel and my push up bra is too big for my cup size so my nipple says hi” breast. 

The only way that it could have been more obvious was if it were to have started singing like that cartoon frog “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaal!  Baby my hearts on fiiiiiiirrrrre!”

God Bless America.

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My building declared today to be Mr. Met day.

This basically meant that the cafeteria was having ballpark foods, and there was a special visit by the man himself - Mr. Met.

Yes, I got to hang out with him for a few, and yes, I do realize that my foot hurts from name dropping all day long today. 

He’s me and Mr. Met on a camera phone shot.

Had I known in advance I would have procured a digital photographer for this extra special day.

Afterwards Mr Met hung out in the cafeteria shaking up peoples salads, giving high-fives and generally causing a stir.

I hope that this marks the beginning of a trend that allows for various characters to swing by the building, cause I really have my heart set on getting a picture with the Hamburglar.

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Let me just say that I am exhausted from being out in the beautiful warmth of the sun while playing on the swings for the second day in a row.

I can’t wait to go home so that I can nap on the subway.

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If you’re like me then you have never watched more than two minutes of any American Idol episode, and kept with that trend last night. 

I have no idea what happened on the show as far as contestants went, but I did get to see my old pal Tony Bennett sing a tune.

He did great, and while it may have been a surprise to many of you watching last night, it wasn’t for me.  See, he and I go way back, and prior to his flight out to CA last night for the “live” season finale he came over my place just to say hello, chug a budweiser, and have a cupcake.  He does this from time to time, and, well, I really don’t mind.

After the show Tony had realized that he forgot his comb in the cushions of my couch, so he stopped by to retreive it. 

Since it was so late I insisted he crash in my spare bedroom a.k.a. the Tony Bennett Room - which it has always been called. 

This man couldn’t be more alive, and I’m glad to call him my friend.

This is the man himself all tucked in, after I woke him up around 7:30 this morning to get him out of my place. 

And this is us in my living room before we each shipped off for the day.

Tony, I hope that you’re having a good day with both your hair and comb!

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