More meat!

After several steaks and several more to come, I will take a brief hiatus until after next week's DOVES concert on June 4th!!

At that time, I will be far more relaxed, refreshed and revacationed with family fun and, of course, meat!

Verbal assualts and cheeseburgers

Earlier this fine and beautiful spring day, I was approached by an enraged parent today in the Manhattan Supreme Court.

My findings have been, in theory and practice for the past nine years, that parents are a far more contributing factor to criminal activity than almost anything else...including substance abuse and/or mental health. The Trifecta of Doom, if you will, makes for quite the lovely client to work with.

Well, for whatever reason, he thought I fucked his kid over in court somehow...albeit I am the one trying to get him out of going to prison altogether. As he starts rifling through his cheap bag for what I suspect to be a smuggled murder weapon under epitaphs about my fuckhood as a motherfucker, the attorney on the case gave me those stunned, oh-no-what-did-I-walk-in-on eyes that only your mother can give you as an adolescent boy locked in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time.

At which point, my craving for a bacon cheeseburger and a cold, stiff one was illuminated by that fact that not only did I aptly deserve them, but would have them, and promptly.

And have them I did. At a lovely, little Financial District joint called the White Horse Tavern.

*Tomorrow I chair a presentation to upwards of 300 of the Bronx County's best criminal defenders on how to get their clients out of Rikers Island as quickly as legally possible. Apparently, the Swine Flu doens't make the ticket.

Let them eat, drink, and be merry...

In a couple weeks, I'm hosting a small soiree for my surrogate parents. The menu includes, though unlimited to: spicy shrimp kababs, grilled and bloody steaks, and baked potatoes with all the fixin's. Sometimes a good, ol' fashioned dinner is where the heart is.

The apertif: The Mortoni

Makes 1 drink

Ice
1 part vodka
1 part Campari
1 part tonic water
1 lime wedge
1 orange wedge
2 lemon wedges

Fill a rocks glass and a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the vodka and Campari to the shaker and shake vigorously. Strain into the glass, top with the tonic water, and squeeze the juice from the lime and orange wedges and 1 of the lemon wedges into the drink. Garnish with the remaining lemon wedge and serve.
(Recipe from Mix Shake Stir (Little, Brown))

THEN ITS EAT MEAT TIMEY TIME!

Tight pants

and loose morals it is.

The weekend fast approaches and if this week has taught us anything, its that there's nothing to die for and that there's everything to live for.

I made that up. Sorta... Its quite silly if I say so myself.

Not so silly, cervezas. That's right, not beers...cervezas. My love of South-of-the-Border beers has been reinvigorated since my trip to Juarez, Cuidad de Suenos, back in 20 dickity 2. Its really a magical place, full of pan-handling ninos, shady puntas (not a bad word, just don't call your mom that), $2 nachos, and $0.25 Dos Equis. Yeah. It was also blazingly hot. And my troop got to see passed out hobo-penis.

All in all, its a lot like New York, just cheaper and stickier.

Existential Crisis in a Footnote

Have you noticed that it's Existential Crisis Month? Buy your own Existential Crisis flowers/booze/uppers/downers/brunch?

Everyone I know is on edge, for one monumental reason or another, including myself, (being the common denominator). Which is even more harrowing because I'd rather carry the weight than be mine own.

Creation, destruction. Destruction, creation. Or not. It's really shittysweet and altogether romanticized. Like Space. Its supposed to be this large void with purpose and potential...but really, its a large void. Nothing. And yet everything.

Yeah...toldya!

Dinner on the last night: pastrami & bacon w/ cheddar, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and Boar's Head Deli Dressing on a fancy roll...it's a deli sangwich and I did it myself!

Currently listening to: Throw Me The Statue's "Yucatan Gold."

Currently awaiting: Farady's comeuppance and LC's demise.

Wearing: gray pinstripe slacks, periwinkle blue button-up, my favourite Hugo Boss skinny tie, black grandpa cardigan, and my ol' faithful brown wingtips.

Avoiding: work until 7pm.

Spring has sprang...

The birds are alive with chitter-chatter, the flowers are blossoming onions, the days are partyly cloudy and musty with with the damp hints of summer and winter...oh, and the kids are fucking annoying.

That means its Springtime, y'all!

Therefore and thusly, is it ok to wear flip-flops with a cardigan?

I say yes. Yes indeed.

Whilst I wait around for some fellow sans-homebodys today to hit up the local flea markets and stoop sales, I download some musics.

Any suggestiones?