At a recent engagement, I was introducing the Sam, the son of a well-known disappeared leader of Teamsters, to my a Greek friend, who also happens to be a part of the human respiratory system. Gus, I said, meet S Hoffa. And S. Hoffa... Gus!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Re: A Spirited Story about the Respiratory
Happenings about town with the well-to-do.
At a recent engagement, I was introducing the Sam, the son of a well-known disappeared leader of Teamsters, to my a Greek friend, who also happens to be a part of the human respiratory system. Gus, I said, meet S Hoffa. And S. Hoffa... Gus!
At a recent engagement, I was introducing the Sam, the son of a well-known disappeared leader of Teamsters, to my a Greek friend, who also happens to be a part of the human respiratory system. Gus, I said, meet S Hoffa. And S. Hoffa... Gus!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, October 12, 2009
I live underneath this Popeye's Chicken. Ask me Anything!
I'm fine, how are you? Glad to hear it.
That's what it looks like from above ground. The picture is taken from my bus stop across the street, which I take to work. That's the last and brightest thing I see before going down below for the night.
I work for an accounting firm, actually. No, I know. No I know it's a good job. Just a lucky guy, but thank you!
It'll be three years this winter.
Well, it's really cold and smells like friend chicken all the time, what's winter like where you're from? Pretty fucking similar?
I'm sorry, go on.
The rent was pretty cheap, and I had a really good feeling about the landlord. And he really has been a great guy. He's kept the apartment in pretty good shape.
I was a little worried about the Popeye's Chicken upstairs, but I figured, everyone's got that one bad neighbor.
Thighs and boneless wings. Drumsticks are for classless goons who can't appreciate a knife, fork, and a dipping sauce.
My friends give me some grief about it, but I can take it, I have a good sense of humor about it. I joke about catching chicken pox, though in reality it is probably lupus.
Sure, it's difficult to bring a date back there. The last girl I tried to bring home was disgusted by the idea of going to some guy's apartment beneath a fried chicken restaurant. I went to bed alone and she went into Popeye's for a late night snack.
Well, no I don't usually eat there. Is that the story you're looking for? That I'm going to be sickened by the fact that I live underneath a Popeye's to the point of not even thinking it's food? Your big scoop is that a local accountant thinks a Popeye's is a big browntank? KFC can't call itself Kentucky Friend Chicken because it's not technically chicken anymore. Popeye's can't even call itself "C". It's such shit that the closest thing to chicken it can legally name itself after is an inarticulate vegetarian with deformed forearms and boobs for legs.
You're right, I am happy that I live below a Popeye's and not above it. Really, I can't imagine how horrible my life would be if I had to live above a Popeye's chicken. Imagine how living above a Popeye's would just end up permeating every level of my miserable life.
I'm sorry, again, but I'm still stuck on how stupid that question was. Do you know I would kill to have a window to open, even out into a hot breath of hot breaded mutant? My home sweet home doormat is a puddle of muddy grease. The whole building leaks grease out of every crack. Wasn't there something in Revelations about a bunch of oozing wounds that would never heal? Maybe that was just something I saw on 20/20.
I do sleep well, but that's only because a dark acrid smoke fills my apartment every night at about 11:30 when they flush out the overhead vents. It's a lot like taking a chimneysweep to bed.
You know, it's funny you should mention that, because I actually found an egg in the corner of my apartment about a week ago. Come on over, I'll show you. Yep, here it is. Well, I bought an incubator, because I've been reading a lot of slow cooking cookbooks lately, and I've always been a fan of hard-boiled eggs, so I figured I'd try to combine the two. Sure seems like it's been getting bigger, though. Hell no, I'm not cooking for myself. When it's done I'm gonna dump it in the ocean and see if this stuff will kill Cthulu. Naw, I'm not worried, these things are mutants. DNA strings' full of typos! Why, there's more grave than gravy to th---
EPILOGUE:
"Ah, well, life, ah, finds a way."
That's what it looks like from above ground. The picture is taken from my bus stop across the street, which I take to work. That's the last and brightest thing I see before going down below for the night.
I work for an accounting firm, actually. No, I know. No I know it's a good job. Just a lucky guy, but thank you!
It'll be three years this winter.
Well, it's really cold and smells like friend chicken all the time, what's winter like where you're from? Pretty fucking similar?
I'm sorry, go on.
The rent was pretty cheap, and I had a really good feeling about the landlord. And he really has been a great guy. He's kept the apartment in pretty good shape.
I was a little worried about the Popeye's Chicken upstairs, but I figured, everyone's got that one bad neighbor.
Thighs and boneless wings. Drumsticks are for classless goons who can't appreciate a knife, fork, and a dipping sauce.
My friends give me some grief about it, but I can take it, I have a good sense of humor about it. I joke about catching chicken pox, though in reality it is probably lupus.
Sure, it's difficult to bring a date back there. The last girl I tried to bring home was disgusted by the idea of going to some guy's apartment beneath a fried chicken restaurant. I went to bed alone and she went into Popeye's for a late night snack.
Well, no I don't usually eat there. Is that the story you're looking for? That I'm going to be sickened by the fact that I live underneath a Popeye's to the point of not even thinking it's food? Your big scoop is that a local accountant thinks a Popeye's is a big browntank? KFC can't call itself Kentucky Friend Chicken because it's not technically chicken anymore. Popeye's can't even call itself "C". It's such shit that the closest thing to chicken it can legally name itself after is an inarticulate vegetarian with deformed forearms and boobs for legs.
You're right, I am happy that I live below a Popeye's and not above it. Really, I can't imagine how horrible my life would be if I had to live above a Popeye's chicken. Imagine how living above a Popeye's would just end up permeating every level of my miserable life.
I'm sorry, again, but I'm still stuck on how stupid that question was. Do you know I would kill to have a window to open, even out into a hot breath of hot breaded mutant? My home sweet home doormat is a puddle of muddy grease. The whole building leaks grease out of every crack. Wasn't there something in Revelations about a bunch of oozing wounds that would never heal? Maybe that was just something I saw on 20/20.
I do sleep well, but that's only because a dark acrid smoke fills my apartment every night at about 11:30 when they flush out the overhead vents. It's a lot like taking a chimneysweep to bed.
You know, it's funny you should mention that, because I actually found an egg in the corner of my apartment about a week ago. Come on over, I'll show you. Yep, here it is. Well, I bought an incubator, because I've been reading a lot of slow cooking cookbooks lately, and I've always been a fan of hard-boiled eggs, so I figured I'd try to combine the two. Sure seems like it's been getting bigger, though. Hell no, I'm not cooking for myself. When it's done I'm gonna dump it in the ocean and see if this stuff will kill Cthulu. Naw, I'm not worried, these things are mutants. DNA strings' full of typos! Why, there's more grave than gravy to th---
EPILOGUE:
"Ah, well, life, ah, finds a way."
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Golden Man???
"The deal is, God wants us to help his friends destroy some bunker. He says it'll make the moon explode."
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Situations I will almost certainly never be in, Vol. 1
I am watching "Gladiator" in my loft apartment, wide awake and having a particularly satisfying time pointing out the countless anachronistic bloopers. After my third Nike sighting, which I am more than happy to announce aloud to the director, the actors, and their multi-million dollar budget, I feel a distant rumbling. I blink, and in a flash I am in the body of a well-to-do Victorian Brit sitting at dinner with his friends. Not only am I alive in the nineteenth century, but now I have to carry on a conversation with people I don't know and eat food I didn't order.
Tales of Jazz from Wynton Marsalis
Man, when we were schoolkids, we were always playing music. We played jazz just about everywhere. We played underneath our desks, in the locker rooms, even on our teachers' backs! These poor teachers were just trying to teach grammar and they always had to stop and be like, "Wynton, you get your jazz trio off my scapula!"
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Notes from my Ongoing Movie Script.
-Currently a Romantic Comedy about a Gangster (Ricky) who tries to escape the Mob life and open an ice cream store on the moon or something.
-Ricky spends the second act stuck in a door frame after being challenged to walk through it while wearing every trench coat he owns.
-On their first date, Ricky tries to impress his date with the numerous luxuries and conveniences of a well-connected Gangster's life. This starts with him being let into the back doors of popular clubs and ends with him clipping out coupons in front of her and saving
shocking amounts of money over the course of a month.
-Ricky learns that he can elude the eavesdropping Feds by limiting inter-Gang communication to a Southern dialect of Morse Code, which sounds like someone playing the Jew's Harp.
-Ricky gets breakfast with a man he is meant to assassinate. After going to the bathroom and deciding not to pick up the gun and go through with the kill, he continues to be bombarded with other hidden weapons. An old acquaintance spots him and, with a wink, offers his business card, which is taped to the handle of an antique shotgun. The waitress, with a wink, brings his western omelet, which is just a loaded revolver folded into scrambled eggs.
-When Ricky sits by the bedside of his sickly Godfather, the suspicious old man grabs Ricky, and, wriggling his fingers says "This is a loyalty-to-the-family sucker. And it's starving!"
-Ricky suffers a lengthy emotional crisis when he suspects that his mustache is in fact a black plastic comb.
-The film ends with Ricky's former Godfather hobbling through a national organic chain grocery store. The camera stops on an eggplant shaped unmistakably like Ricky, then fades to black.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A picture of Dorians, greyed
Wow, things have really picked up here at Beespotter.
To deal with the newly-distended gut of posts, I've taken on a pair of interns.
Meet: Baklava and Niko
Baklava is a fifty-three year old semi-retired restaurateur. His taverna, The Feta Squeeze, is known for serving whatever that is on his fork, and for its dogmatic refusal to have clean bathrooms. Try not to stare at or mention his mustache, as it is malignant.
I don't know much about Niko, but I'm sure he was the brains of whatever he used to do.
God Niko is fucking smart.
They'll help me tidy the office, gather internet research, and hail taxis, should I lose both my
arms, or decide not to use them, or decide to stop driving everywhere. Hey, how bout those gas prices?
I'm paying them in ouzo and soap, though mostly as a way of keeping them in their place, as I don't think either of them drinks or bathes.
Gotta keep my eye on that Niko.
To deal with the newly-distended gut of posts, I've taken on a pair of interns.
Meet: Baklava and NikoBaklava is a fifty-three year old semi-retired restaurateur. His taverna, The Feta Squeeze, is known for serving whatever that is on his fork, and for its dogmatic refusal to have clean bathrooms. Try not to stare at or mention his mustache, as it is malignant.
I don't know much about Niko, but I'm sure he was the brains of whatever he used to do.
God Niko is fucking smart.
They'll help me tidy the office, gather internet research, and hail taxis, should I lose both my
arms, or decide not to use them, or decide to stop driving everywhere. Hey, how bout those gas prices?
I'm paying them in ouzo and soap, though mostly as a way of keeping them in their place, as I don't think either of them drinks or bathes.
Gotta keep my eye on that Niko.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Artful Dodgers Part 2 (UK part 1)
Tales of London Pickpocketings
One time, Greece was distracted by a street performer for five minutes, and before it even realized anything odd, half the fucking parthenon was in the British Museum.
(documented at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elgin_Marbles )
One time, Greece was distracted by a street performer for five minutes, and before it even realized anything odd, half the fucking parthenon was in the British Museum.
(documented at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elgin_Marbles )
Artful Dodgers Part 1 (UK part G)
Tales of London Pickpockets
Recently, a Covent Gardens man tripped in the middle of a crowded London sidewalk. Just as he hit the ground, somebody whispered the words "Shrimp Tree" in his ear, and when he stood up, all of his family pictures were gone from his wallet.
Recently, a Covent Gardens man tripped in the middle of a crowded London sidewalk. Just as he hit the ground, somebody whispered the words "Shrimp Tree" in his ear, and when he stood up, all of his family pictures were gone from his wallet.
My Recent Manuscript
Sorry about the break. I've been pretty busy with my most recent project.
I've been working on a rethinking of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" about a mostly ignored toy AT-AT that inexplicably grows a beard one night.
This horrifies the family and pushes the stressed and volatile home environment to a breaking point.
As anxiety pushes in the walls of the home, the AT-AT feels increasingly ostracized and ashamed. It grows increasingly unrecognizable as these feelings persist, and, upon the discovery of its corpse at the end of the book, it shows no recognizable walker/quadrupedal tank qualities at all.
I've been working on a rethinking of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" about a mostly ignored toy AT-AT that inexplicably grows a beard one night.
This horrifies the family and pushes the stressed and volatile home environment to a breaking point.As anxiety pushes in the walls of the home, the AT-AT feels increasingly ostracized and ashamed. It grows increasingly unrecognizable as these feelings persist, and, upon the discovery of its corpse at the end of the book, it shows no recognizable walker/quadrupedal tank qualities at all.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Berry Berry Larry and Thomas Equineas
I found Liz and Gregg's house on craigslist today. You can see it at http://pittsburgh.craigslist.org/rfs/332781571.html
Tidyback
So, I made a fake email address (berryberrylarry@yahoo.com) and sent them an email. I feel like my sister would trust a random person from the internet to be this odd, and so it might just work.
TidybackSo, I made a fake email address (berryberrylarry@yahoo.com) and sent them an email. I feel like my sister would trust a random person from the internet to be this odd, and so it might just work.
Buenos Diaes!
I am very interested in buying you're 2bd/1bth house! I live in dormont but need to move into the city once and for all. It looks very well kept like it has been maintained by tidy people just like me!
First of all, no kids right? I know parents can be tidy but kids will fit just about anywhere, and find just about any way to hide and make a mess of things before you realize. so no kids, right? good!
I will be in to look at it some time in the future i'm sure, however i have an inquisition over your basement! I have read that you have a basement that has a reasonably high ceiling. I separated from my ex-girlfriend a while ago, (don't ask!) but I will not be moving in single--I am still taking care of her horse while she is in Florida. She could not afford to keep it at a ranch but neither can I, so I have been keeping it at my current house which has worked very well. However, I need to know if It will fit and be comfortable in your basement. Getting it up and down any stairs is no problem as it is very limber and on the short side. But will their be enough room? It can't stand in one spot, and has really been in need of exercise lately, and should have room to walk or play with horse toys. His name is Thomas Equineas and he is not too much taller than myself. They are very tidy animals and that makes up for some necessary uncleanities of their equine nature.
I have already scoped it out and it looks very quaint the garden looks maybe fruitful and I have never heard much trouble in your part of the neighborhood. Please let me know when you are avalable to walk me through your home. I am fairly busy during the day this week as I will be scrubbing sidewalks in dormont for charity and some pay, but let me know when you are free!!!
Thanks! Love to hear from you!
Peace! :)
-Leonard Bearny
I am very interested in buying you're 2bd/1bth house! I live in dormont but need to move into the city once and for all. It looks very well kept like it has been maintained by tidy people just like me!
First of all, no kids right? I know parents can be tidy but kids will fit just about anywhere, and find just about any way to hide and make a mess of things before you realize. so no kids, right? good!
I will be in to look at it some time in the future i'm sure, however i have an inquisition over your basement! I have read that you have a basement that has a reasonably high ceiling. I separated from my ex-girlfriend a while ago, (don't ask!) but I will not be moving in single--I am still taking care of her horse while she is in Florida. She could not afford to keep it at a ranch but neither can I, so I have been keeping it at my current house which has worked very well. However, I need to know if It will fit and be comfortable in your basement. Getting it up and down any stairs is no problem as it is very limber and on the short side. But will their be enough room? It can't stand in one spot, and has really been in need of exercise lately, and should have room to walk or play with horse toys. His name is Thomas Equineas and he is not too much taller than myself. They are very tidy animals and that makes up for some necessary uncleanities of their equine nature.
I have already scoped it out and it looks very quaint the garden looks maybe fruitful and I have never heard much trouble in your part of the neighborhood. Please let me know when you are avalable to walk me through your home. I am fairly busy during the day this week as I will be scrubbing sidewalks in dormont for charity and some pay, but let me know when you are free!!!
Thanks! Love to hear from you!
Peace! :)
-Leonard Bearny
Thursday, May 17, 2007
It All Makes Sense
Fact:
Smoking bans are going up all over the country. Approximately 50% of all Americans are in some way affected by a state-mandated limitation on where they can smoke tobacco products. The trend isn't new, but the scale is growing exponentially. Just ask my roommate.
Charlie (right)
NY city has one, California (the state, mind you) has one, Seattle has one, Pittsburgh has one. These bans affect bars, restaurants, and any enclosed public areas primarily in cities.
Sure seems excessive. Sure seems like somethings up. Someone is whisking the smoke out of the steel and stone pillars of man's accomplishment faster than bees out of North American Hives.
Wait a Minute.
Clarity
Who hates smoke more than anyone?
Bees.
They're disappearing from their hives across NA, and now across Europe. No one knows why. See wikipedia.org/Colony_Collapse_Disorder or something.
But no one can find the bodies.
And now it's pretty fucking obvious what they're up to. They're tired of the country and its laid-back pace. They've been behind the smoking bans, because they need a place to live. They're meeting somewhere (Underground? I don't know.) until our bars are crisp and clean and smoke free. And then it'll be time.
Time for the Urban Swarm
Details to follow.
Smoking bans are going up all over the country. Approximately 50% of all Americans are in some way affected by a state-mandated limitation on where they can smoke tobacco products. The trend isn't new, but the scale is growing exponentially. Just ask my roommate.
Charlie (right)NY city has one, California (the state, mind you) has one, Seattle has one, Pittsburgh has one. These bans affect bars, restaurants, and any enclosed public areas primarily in cities.
Sure seems excessive. Sure seems like somethings up. Someone is whisking the smoke out of the steel and stone pillars of man's accomplishment faster than bees out of North American Hives.
Wait a Minute.
ClarityWho hates smoke more than anyone?
Bees.They're disappearing from their hives across NA, and now across Europe. No one knows why. See wikipedia.org/Colony_Collapse_Disorder or something.
But no one can find the bodies.
And now it's pretty fucking obvious what they're up to. They're tired of the country and its laid-back pace. They've been behind the smoking bans, because they need a place to live. They're meeting somewhere (Underground? I don't know.) until our bars are crisp and clean and smoke free. And then it'll be time.
Time for the Urban Swarm
Details to follow.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Scribble Journal Excerpt:
Sci-fi action thriller, in which humans and computers must team up to beat Chessmasters from outer space.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Wave of the Future
So, my dad's car died, and so he is replacing it. He called to tell me that he was getting a hybrid, but I don't think Yia Yia (who is in Pgh at the moment), will be very pleased with his choice:
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
The 180?
I'm fed up with all this unhealthy nonsense. It's nonsense! Starting today, I'm giving up cigarettes, and I'm giving up dairy. Big Tobacco and Big Lactation have had me by the joes for too long. I don't make drastic attempts to change my life that often, so I'm pretty sure this one is going to stick unless something huge comes along.
...Oh my Goodness!
...Oh my Goodness!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Travel Tip
Well, last week's trip sure was a blast! I practiced plenty- but I sure wasn't ready for how much I was going to be carrying my saxophone case. Three airports, boy were my hands sore! Thank Goodness I remembered to bring a tote lozenge.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
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