Okay, For Real This Time.

I'm really tired.

First of all, I'm at the office at 7:45, which is crazy. Adam Sandler said it best in Big Daddy, the good thing about being up this early is you can catch some breakfast. And seriously, I haven't actually eaten a breakfast during the breakfast time in probably seven years. Sandler was referring to McDonald's, but I'm referring to Food Exchange. Why I'm here this early is really none of your business, sucka. So, stop the asking. I will say this, Daybreaker kicked a little ass. And that is all I will tell you.

Okay, I'll stop beating around the bush. I lost Lopez last night. There, I said it. I lost him. I'm sorry. I'll buy you a new one. He supposed to meet me out at Piano's, but in a mad dash we left and if you don't already know this, I'll just tell you. Cell phones have a better chance of transforming into Optimus Prime than picking up a signal when you need it. Which would have been last night. So, I woke up this morning with six messages on my phone. I think maybe one of them made sense. But, the overall tone was that he was, uh.... well.... wondering where I was. So, Lopez, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you tonight. Promise.

I had to share this with you guys:
If you're ever sitting on your couch on a Friday night thinking that there's got to be more out there. You know, people having more fun than you.

Last Night's Party

There are.

I'm not really sure what this is about, but I think it's safe to say that sometimes I think we all have a night like at least one of those. Unfortunately, we're not that hip. But, the whole face licking thing? Yeah, that's us.

A Turn for the Tired.

Boo-yah-ka-sha!!!

Severe Lopez Advisory:
Word on the street right now is that there is a Choad on the ground. Last night at something like 10:00 or 11:00 pm the Chinaken touched down in NYC. Right now, I'm awaiting some sort of contact. While I wait, let's talk about something here. I've thought a bit about what I should do with Lopez during his stay here. How is Lopez going to influence this city? Here's my run down.

• Thanks to the hipster culture in this city, Lopez will be able wander freely through the Lower East Side wearing his favorite Blurple shirt and start a revolution. A year from now, we are going to see the rise of Blurple as "the new black." Julio will have a Blurple RL Polo Dress Shirt, Johnny will have a Blurple Mock Turtle Neck, and Hart will have a Blurple Ski Mask.
  
• One thing that Lopez has to be aware of is that NYC is not Westport. If you're standing in line to get into a place, two things are apparent. One is that you're probably at a velvet rope type place. If they say they're not letting you in, move on. Because, two, the bouncers are the size of Lou Ferrigno with that disease that Rocky Dennis had. If you swing at them, they will crush you.
  
• Not many Dolphins fans here, so leave the MARINO jersey in the case.
• NO ONE here has heard of Cabela's. Maybe one or two people. I've been met with some interesting looks when explaining Cabela's to people. It goes well until I tell them it's by the NASCAR speedway, from there I'm usually asked to leave. Point is if anyone asks where you work, tell them you're a bounty hunter. Not that Cabela's sucks ass, it doesn't. It's just that you have four days here and you don't want to spend all of it explaining Cabela's.
  
• Good News, Lopez!! It's nearly impossible for you to get another DUI here!
  

Alright, Jaime. Be good.

Tonight, Tonight.......
As much as I love the Scroatpez, I can't start the safari tonight. We have all weekend. Tonight, I'm going to this place called Piano's (never been, hear it's nice) to check out my room mate shred and drop science on the MIC. But, by Maggie's accord, she doesn't "shred", even though it's my opinion that even if you just play rhythm, kick some shit over like the kick drum or your bass player, and people will think you're fucking nuts. Okay, I'm not sure what it's like. But, I've found that the less someone talks about their band, the better that band is. And Maggie hasn't said much so I'm pretty pumped to hear it. You can check out the site here at www.daybreakthis.com

That's all I got for now, bitches.

Uno.
_ag

Elbow Rubbing

I'm not a big celebrity watcher. Ignore my subscriptions to People, US, Entertainment Weekly, and Swank. In Kansas City, I think the statistic is something like you have more of a chance of dying of contracting Scurvy and being pecked to death by a Condor than seeing someone famous on the street. Paul Rudd excluded. I've run into a few here. I don't outwardly search for them, they come to me.

Richard Lewis:
Last Saturday, I was leaving an awesome exhibit at the Chelsea piers with Sarah, the rebel Art Director at Outdoor Life and Richard Lewis walked past us. It wasn't anything crazy. it was just funny because we were talking about seeing famous people on the street like ten minutes before. You may remember Richard as the confused Jewish guy on any show/movie he's ever been on. More specifically, from the much over looked and justafiably so TV series, "Anything But Love." He was Marty. One of the leads? You don't remember do you? That's okay, I had to look that up because I forgot, too. More recently, he's been on Curb Your Enthusiasm. A show where the actors are being themselves, which is bullshit because in real life Richard looked like the crypt keeper escorting a girl that the naive side of me says was his daughter and the other side of me says..... well.... fair play to you, Dick.

Elka:
I think it was like a month ago I think and I needed a friggin' hair cut. So, I go to this place around the corner from where I work. It's one of those walk in places, so I walked in a got in line. There's only two of us in line and I was standing there with my headphones on, iPod playing. I noticed that the girl behind the counter was done talking to the girl in front of me because she kinda leaned over and looked at me and said something. I didn't hear what she said because she did it so quick and I couldn't hear because of my iPod muffs. I assumed she was wondering what I wanted, so I answered. The problem was that I was trying to wrestle my earphones off, talk over the music, and communicate like a human. What came out of my mouth sounded like a drunken deaf person screaming, "I MEED MAH HAIRCUT." I know I was yelling because my headphones came off in the middle of the phrase and it was echoing off of the walls. Everyone in the place turned and looked at me, including the girl in front of me who turned out to be Elka from The Real World: Boston. I recognized her pretty quick because I always thought she was pretty cute. The girl behind the counter told me that the "stylist" that does guy's hair was booked for the rest of the day. Because the look on my was probably a mixture of shock/embarrassment and the fact that I had just blabbered something about "MAH HAIR" at a high volume, I figure that it was a good time to yell, "MANK YOU," and limp out of the store.

Beetle-Juice
Unfortunately, not Michael Keaton. That would be aweome. I'd make him be the retarded clone from Multiplicity and "It's aaaaaaaa wallet, Steve" Why? Because. I was playing pool at this dive bar by Wall Street. There's a large guy in a cowboy hat saying, "Hello, ladies." Behind him there are two, uh, smaller people. One of them was Beetle-Juice from the Howard Stern show. He gave me the "what's up" nod. I gave it back. That's it. Not a great story, but what did you want?

Another time, I thought I saw MJ23's brother. Turns out, it was an indian and I was on Peyote.

talk to you soon.

Nobody move.

Shaking the dork tree and Tree Bark Toilet Paper:
This last weekend, I was told that having a blog wasn't cool anymore. Even though she was joking (i think?) I have to agree somewhat. It is slightly knobbish. At least when The North End™ started, it had a purpose. Now, it serves a new, less interesting purpose. I just got to New York and I know that some of you have never been. Some of you have been, but on vacation. Doesn't count. No fair. You have to live in P. Diddy's city, in order to be stained by it. I think I'm starting to get dirty and it's starting to show. Yesterday, a guy from work said to me, "New York looks good on you." I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I was a bit Merle Haggard from the night before.

I won't bore you with telling about my first month and half up here. Because, really it was a lot growing pains. Not knowing where the hell I was half the time, not knowing where to go if I needed something as simple as paper towels. I had to resort to doing most of my shopping at Whole Foods, where buying toilet paper when it's made of organic tree bark is painful in more ways than one. I had a lot of time to sit and think about things. You know reflect, get philosophical and stuff. I realized that a lot of you guys are bastards. Kidding, of course. Except Anderson. Anderson truly is an asshole. I didn't realize how much fun you guys were. I took a lot of the stuff we did for granted. So, shed a tear and shut up. I'm done with you. Now you'll sit and listen because I know you have nothing better to do. C'mon, you don't. Admit it.

Still Mexcian, Wichita, or Stuntman:
There are some things that have not changed. I still play poker every week. I still suck at poker every week. I really don't know why I keep trying. I always joked in Kansas City about losing, even though I would win sometimes. But, let's not forget the night that I lost so bad that the check book was cracked. I think Potts and MJ23 have a time share on my soul as a result of that night. Rest assured that I still suck at hold 'em. How I long for a game of Seven-Card-Stud-Follow-the-Bitch-Queen-of-Spades-Kills-It staring at a shirtless Johnny Stunts misdeal. Fuck, a game of Spades would do.

Another thing that hasn't changed is that I can't seem to stop meeting people from the Wichita area. I used to joke that all my friends were South American or from Witchita or both. There are exceptions, but not many. I thought that I literally knew everybody from Wichita. I guess not. The San Francisco bug seems to have bitten Julio because I was informed today that he wants to give my number to a guy that his brother knows that lives in Brooklyn. I'm not making any assumptions. It was just funny when Julio, in San Francisco, IMs me asking if he can give my number to a guy that is trying to make guy friends in NY. Again, no assumptions, just funny. I also met a girl from Derby last week. That's right, the city that Wig built. Thank God, too. Everytime someone said Derby, all I could think of was a drunken Cowboy Don yelling, "HAAAUGGHH!" Thankfully, I have a much more pleasant face to associate with the Derb.


Where Do We Go From Here?
So really, you guys have no reason to believe that I will keep this site as updated as I did way back when. Understand, that I would really love to, but seeing as how I have a job that has a contract on my life right now, I'm going to get busy every once and a while. Why should you come back, then? Well, consider this an on-going postcard. Just because I moved doesn't mean that stupid shit stopped happening to me. I realized this Saturday night when coming out of a club, I walked face first into a glass door. It was pretty bad. Nose, teeth, all made contact. That's when it literally hit me. The show must go on. This time, the pictures will be much better. Trust me.

Cheers,
_ag


Next time on The North End™:

• Rubbing Elbows
  
• How to Lopez-proof NYC
• Brooklyn's Finest