Orange Slices and Fetal Spooning

Wow, it's been quite a long time now. Where to begin? I've decided to give updating this blog thing regularly another shot. Demand has been incredible, and I finally had to heed the call of the outraged public and come back to slap you in the face with my five fingers of knowledge again.

Quick update in terms of what 's been going on lately: A couple of months ago, I had been the cook at an after-work type of establishment, the Katwalk bar and lounge in Midtown. It's a strange coincidence, as I used to frequent this place years ago for happy hour Margaritas like nobodies business. My creativity as a chef was of course stifled there. Basically my specialties were limited mostly to chicken fingers and nachos. I was a crowd pleaser though, I was responsible for cooking for large parties which the customers loved, and overall everyone's life had become a little brighter from being around me, so looking back I can't complain.

Unfortunately, (for them), my tenure as cuisine master extraordinaire has ended due to a few medical mishaps, (of the not being able to breathe variety) - in their sub-standard, not fucking ventilated closet they use as a kitchen. This all culminating in one craaazy trip to the local emergency room. By the way, the folks down at the NYU medical center have all my thanks and praise. According to my map of Manhattan island dotted with tacks and red string, I've been in nearly every hospital emergency room in NYC for one reason or another. Sadly, my culinary career had ended before it even began. Besides, there's only so many "Sex and the City Wednesdays" a guy can take without putting his head in an oven. Like my grandma used to say (god bless her soul) "If you're ordering a Cosmopolitan in this day and age, you're a fucking loser and deserve to die".

While employed at this retreat for wayward cokewhores who can mix drinks, I briefly had a weird crush on one very beautiful co-worker, a waitress whose equally hot sister also worked there. It was nothing really of mention and was probably doomed from the beginning. She was some kind of super Christian, but she was foreign (which is always hot), fairly aloof and adorable, (which drives me absolutely crazy) and lived nearby in my neighborhood, so at least I had a subway buddy. One good aspect of my time there was being able to work with another very good friend of mine who I had known for years, which was cool. Overall it was a shit job, but at least I was able to afford my big ass LCD High Definition TV and a shiny new Playstation 3 with the proceeds.

But that's all gone in the past. The spirits have guided me elsewhere of late. I feel that within the last year I've been growing into this different person. While the calendar has been scattered with a few highlights, it seems like I've been handling the important things more comfortably. Especially of late, the "amazing" events in my life have come very naturally, and I'm experiencing something of a "new confidence". Of course it feels weird, because I've wasted so much time in the past being nervous, overly emotional, and generally not handling stress well. I've come to the realization that in fact, I shouldn't give a shit what everyone thinks about me and there's no reason to be so afraid to live. I know now that the only way to get awesome life changing things from the needle of good fortune into your system is to tie on the tourniquet and start squeezing your fist. I just wish I had come to this conclusion earlier in my development. Ahh, what I must have missed..... I'm probably just thinking about this in light of my birthday this past weekend (the 103rd Bloomsday). You know, it's the one where you realize things aren't as fun any more and that you might, just might, be getting older. You start thinking about things like "by the way, where the fuck is that girl you're supposed to marry?" You know, things like that.

I have to be making headway, because never before have I seen such a drastic change in behavior among people who were my friends, particularly when it comes to them going out of their way to be assholes, or getting all passive aggressive with me. It's like I always say, imitation is the highest form of flattery. I always thought someone had to very awesome to have to deal with emotions like jealousy around them, but I was wrong. I must be doing something right. It seems I'm finally taking a step in the right direction.

Well now you've been prepped. If you're ready to delve deeper into the dark recesses of my mind where I'll share my cosmic know-how and love, then check back regularly. The coming barrage of posts will deal with important issues like my burgeoning career as a movie star, why the Silversun Pickups should be shot in the face, my impression of the Mets season from a first hand perspective once again, and finally we'll answer that eternal question:

"Did you ever think there's more to life than
being really, really, really ridiculously good looking?"

Answer: probably not, but more on that later. Now I'm off to the Mets game tonight, where Glavine will shoot for his 296th win as he creeps towards 300. We'll try to snap out of this horrible losing streak against the A's and most likely not see our hometown hero Mike Piazza.

Till then, keep it real bitches. Stay tuned for the really good stuff, coming soon. You might even want to subscribe to this motherfucker. It's not one of those crappy blogs constantly being updated with horse shit. I can't be bound by the date or time. Testaments of a deeper, intellectual nature take longer to write. Everyone knows that.