Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor | Pye in the Face

Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

Archives for November 2004

Loving Lowell: Pixies Countdown Commences.


in Musical

The Pixies land at the Tsongas Arena in Lowell tomorrow night, and I’m so excited I could just… buy some crack. What the hell else are you supposed to do in Lowell? At least they have the Lock Monsters, because there damn sure won’t be any Bruins games this year. My friend Chris is a goal judge for the Monsters, so maybe I can get a good seat behind the penalty box at one of the upcoming games. And some crack.

But back to Los Pixies. This should be a very different experience from when I saw them on their warm up tour back in April. They’ve been on the road for nearly 9 months straight now, and have managed not to kill one another, so I imagine it’ll be a tight, memorable set in front of their hometown crowd. I’ll give you all a full, geeky report on Thursday – but stay tuned for some Thanksgiving photos and stories tonight. Pixies dork, out.

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Friday/Sunday’s Quizzlet: Better Late If Ever.


in

Appetizer: How much money do you plan to spend this holiday season?

I have gifts for a few of my little cousins that I forgot to take with me to Toronto last year. I’m hoping they’ll still be into them, and I can pass them off without having to buy new ones. Although when I was a runt, my parents were lucky if toys held my attention for more than a few days. SeaMonkeys and Star Wars being the obvious exceptions. Some things keep you unhealthily fascinated longer than others. Now won’t you please excuse me for a moment while I go feed ‘Jaws’ and ‘ Orca’ – and then dust my Yoda puppet.

Soup: What was the last television show you watched, and was it good?

There’s an English show I love called Little Britain. It just finished its second season on BBC, and I’ve downloaded and watched all the episodes from a great site called UKNova. It’s a sketch comedy show featuring many recurring characters and is absolutely beyond funny. I’ve also become hooked on the Most Haunted, which I made the mistake of watching alone this morning at 3 a.m. – if you don’t count the Thai prostitute. But she was only still here because she was dead.

Salad: If you had to paint your living room, what color would you choose?

Someone dumped a glass of red wine all down the wall of my apartment’s spiral stairwell while I was away in Concord. So this whimsical question is a reality at the moment. Unlike the Thai hooker. She was Malaysian.

Main Course: Name something clever you have thought of inventing.

The lukewarm reception of my last invention has discouraged me for the time being. Apparently gloryholes are frowned upon in government buildings. Who knew?

Dessert: List 3 things you would like to receive as gifts this holiday season.

You’re very thoughtful, quizzlet. I didn’t realize we’d been familiar long enough to actually exchange gifts. You need only look at my Amazon wish list. Or certain boutiques in Chinatown.

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Gobble Gobble: Turkey Day In Concord, MA.


in Consumables

No word of a lie, this may be my favorite day of the entire year – The night before Thanksgiving. “T’was the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house. Not a creature was stirring, especially not the headless turkey thawing on the counter.” I typically travel out to Concord to hang out with my high school buddies. Tonight is always a ridiculously fun marriage of old friends, nostalgia and alcohol abuse on a level that might make W.C. Fields wince and check into a clinic.

And it doesn’t stop there – Thursday morning is the football game: My alma mater, Concord-Carlisle High School, against the evil and incestuous Bedford. Fans supporting both schools cheer from the sidelines and the gridiron is ablaze with questionable sportsmanship while the vast majority of the Concord kids who swore the night before that they’d “go to the game this year” sleep it off somewhere else.

As for the horn of plenty/cornucopia stuff, I always eat at my buddy Jim’s house. This year we’re attempting to deep-fry the turkey, which is apparently all the rage. Speaking of raging, I’ll be standing about 20 feet behind Jim with a fire extinguisher in one hand, and a Bud Lite in the other. I was told by another friend last night to use peanut oil and to make sure the bird is thawed before firing it into the fryer. I should probably call Jim and make sure he knows all of this so I don’t show up at his house tonight to find Joan of Arc waiting for me.

Friday is always one of the classes’ 10-yr reunions. Mine was back in 2001 and this year it’s my sister’s. Most of the C-town contingent heads into Boston regardless of whether they’ve got a reunion or not. I crashed the class of 1992’s event with about 10 guys in tow and we had a great time. But we’re a little long in the tooth to do that anymore. The class of 1994’s event is being held at Monster and Bobby’s favorite bar, Vinalia. The bar will be firmly closed to them, as they’re not alumni. So if I do end up attending, it will be because I was summoned there by a hostage negotiator.

Have a great holiday, everyone. I’ll be back on Friday or Saturday with some silly stories or maybe a Boston Police report scan to share. Until then, gobble gobble.

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30 Tall Tales #5: Eye Bet You Won’t Eat That.


in Consumables

Money is a wonderful motivatior. An evil, corrupting, soul-stealing motivator. We all got up at the crack of dawn this morning and spent the entire day in the same 2 square foot area, didn’t we? And the older you get, the more prone you become to the horrific influence of filthy lucre. I learned this in practice when I was around eleven years old – as I went from staunch refusal, to willing participation, in a little under a year. Hold on and let me explain… this doesn’t involve digital rape of any kind. Just Greek food. And yes, I know the two are usually synonymous.

Red Snappers are a type of fish found in various areas all over the world. They’re a very popular food source due to their unique texture and ample size, (God if I had a nickel…) and are treated as endangered in countries that care. They’re huge – the largest ever caught was over 50 pounds and they’re the ugliest form of aquatic life this side of the giant squid. Or Michael Moore in a Speedo.

The kid holding the red snapper isn’t me, so I attached a sweet shot from Sears Portrait Studio in the hopes you’ll be able to picture what I looked like circa the tale I’m about to tell. Alternately, you can imagine the kid holding the red snapper at about 15 pounds heavier and wearing nothing but Star Wars Underoos, and you’ve pretty much got it nailed. My Mom, Dad, Sister and our old family friend Terry Jackson were supping at the best Greek restaurant in Montreal – Molivos. I always loved it when we’d go out for Greek, because my seafood aversion was in full swing by 1985 and there were always plenty of other things on the menu. My parents would be happy because of the plethora of seafood available, and I’d be in fried cheese/hummous heaven.

About 3 bottles of Kourtaki into the meal, my Dad and Terry began to pick on me. A ginormous red snapper had just arrived at the table, and they started berating me for not wanting to try any. As I stared into the cloudy, dead eyes of the steaming snapper Terry must have noticed a visible shudder of revulsion. “You’re such a little wimp. Try one bite.” To which my father added “Don’t waste your breath on the little chicken. More for us.” Terry wouldn’t give up, and pretty soon he had a forkful stabbing towards my face. “You couldn’t PAY me to eat that ugly thing!” I whelped. Terry looked at my father and a most treacherous smile began to creep across both of their faces. Terry produced $20 and my father quickly matched it. $40 is a fortune to an eleven-year-old kid, a huge score, and suddenly the small nibble of white meat didn’t look all that terrible. “OK!” I recanted and reached for the fork.

“Oh no, kiddo. It ain’t gonna be that easy if this much money is involved.” They both simultaneously surveyed the aquatic corpse. “You’re going to have to eat… the eyes!” My mother and sister gasped in horror as my dreams of a lifetime supply of Popeye Candy Cigarettes and Fun Dip came to an abrupt halt. The red snapper’s dead eyes resembled poached eggs, and I felt saganaki start sloshing around in my stomach as I tried to imagine eating them. I curtly told my antagonizers to forget it, and decided I’d rather put up with their taunts for the rest of the evening.

But a child’s motivations invariably change as they get older. When I next saw Terry about 9 months later, he was visiting us at our home on Springhill Drive in Lorne Park, Mississauga – and I had a new friend. The just introduced Nintendo Entertainment System. The retsina was again flowing, and I could see a red snapper smoking on the BBQ. I waited until after dinner (until they were good and drunk) and then casually mentioned the Montreal incident. “I’ve really regretted not taking you guys up on that bet. But I could have never eaten those gross eyes.” Terry fell right into my trap. “David, let’s make it $50. Gordo – cough it up“. Next thing I knew, there were five $20 bills fanned out on the dining room table in front of me. I looked up, smiled, and I’m pretty sure my father flashed a “we’ve just been hustled” look momentarily over his face. I grabbed a butter knife and began scooping the gelatinous white blobs out of their sockets.

Laid out side-by-side on a coffee saucer, they didn’t look quite as threatening. I was followed over to the kitchen sink by Terry, my father and about 4 other dinner guests. I filled the biggest glass we had with water and grabbed the first eye. It came apart in my hand, and I saw to my dismay that while the exterior was eggish, the core was a rock hard little marble. I slapped a greasy hand over my mouth, swallowed, gagged and then chugged the water. The second eye went down in much the same fashion. I turned around triumphantly to a series of pale faces – but mine was covered in an enormous smile. Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out was coming out the next week.

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New Years Eve: Oh, It’s On Now!


in Heartwarming

I haven’t worked out the details yet, but there will be a New Years Eve party at the Sidebar. I’m going to keep the cover as cheap as possible. None of this $80 a head bullshit. There will be a DJ, champagne and attire will be casual. If you’re looking for a ridiculously fun and low maintenance NYE solution – save the date. I’ll put an Evite together when I’ve settled on the particulars.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Blues Brotherly Love


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: What do you think is the perfect age to get married? To have a child?

No one has any business getting married until they’re at least 27 or so. See the world, meet some people and as cliched as this sounds – ‘find yourself’. I’ve had a pretty wild life so far, and have been lucky in terms of travels, relationships, friends and adventure. I am faithful that the rest will fall into place by itself. When it does, I’ll be comfortable and ready – with no room for regrets in my head full of fevered, debaucherous memories. In reality, I’m probably going to die alone at age 52 beside a trunk full of pornography.

Soup: If you could change occupations, what would you want to do for a living?

I probably should have been a police detective. I have this ingrained sense of right and wrong and although it veers disturbingly in certain areas, it has served me well thus far. I don’t shirk when I see a dead body, I look good in bad suits, I already consume unhealthy amounts of coffee and donuts and can readily repeat the statistic “more (police) cars were destroyed in the making of the Blues Brothers than any film in history”. Wouldn’t you feel safer at night?

Salad: What does the color green make you think of?

Menthol. A couple of years ago I had a strange phase. I was given a can of menthol shaving cream and things just snowballed from there. I started buying skin lotion with menthol. Then I got some face cream with menthol. Then I bought a bottle of mentholated schnapps and woke up suddenly in an ATM vestibule. I knew it had gotten out of control when I bought a carton of Newports and then smoked the whole thing at the Dudley T stop in Roxbury.

Main Course: Has something happened over the last year that you didn’t expect?

My expectations have been exceedingly low in recent years, so this could be any number of things. Vanilla Coke was an emotional moment for me, for example. I’m certainly glad that the Eastern Seabord hasn’t been reduced to rubble by now as I’d predicted. I feel obliged to ask Mr. Al Zarqawi – ‘Can’t we all just just get along?’ Barring his answer being anything other than ‘Hammala! Hammala!Hammala!’ Or ‘Allah akbar’, I say we make Fallujah the new ‘Silicon Valley’ – or ‘smoking crater of hot sand’, to be more specific.

Dessert: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

Maybe I should switch to a quiz that isn’t written by a woman? Nah, I’ll be a good sport. Her name was Suzanne, and it was 1986 – so I would have been 13. This was my first real kiss. The earth moved. I’m talking boobie-grabbing, tongue and all while I had her propped up on a dryer in my friend Chris‘s basement during a birthday party. This girl moved fast – she was 15 and already in high school. I won’t go into any more detail because my mother reads this, but let’s just say it was a very interesting 3 months. God bless ya, ya feckin’ cradle-robber, ya – wherever you are.

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Moonbat? Thy Name Is Carolyn Parrish.


in

The Moonbat ain’t so virtual anymore. I wrote about this horrible and embarassing Canadian Liberal MP cunt’s antics back in August. Now Paul Martin has sacked Carolyn Parrish from the caucus for stomping on a George W. Bush action figure on national television. This got into the Drudge Report down here in the states, and has been an enormous ostrich egg in the face for the Prime Minister – and ME. Yet another nationally publicized anti-American instance I’ll have to begrudgingly explain to my Yankee friends.

What Matt Drudge won’t tell you is that the TV show in question, This Hour Has 22 Minutes, pre-dates the identical Daily Show and is actually really, really funny. It’s a timely satirical comedy show that’s been shown on CBC since 1990. Parrish overstepped her bounds as an elected official in doing what she did, but Drudge should have mentioned the context. It was a ‘bit’. A foolish and feciscious ‘bit’ which has had significant concequences – but a ‘bit’ none the less. One more time for the cheap seats: ‘bit’.

So, basically this is me demonstrating my oft-mentioned attempts at objectivity when taking in the news on a daily basis. But that handicapped-whore still needs a spork vivisection. Maybe she can get a job on Mike Moore’s next picture.

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Meet The Autorantic Virtual Moonbat.


in

I am posting this wonderful little piece of technology because it’s extremely well done and funny. It also reminds me of talking to some of my more ‘educated’ friends. Whenever I miss my frostback bretheren, or feel a need to have a conversation with an absent Monster, I can now turn to the Moonbat and it’s like they are right there in the room with me.

Here’s how he works. Pretend you’re having a conversation with your favorite Moore-educated, politically open-minded Kerry mourner, and ask him a question. Imagine that you’re in Starbucks chatting over a chai lattes about who you both voted for. Here’s an example you can use: You’re not going to like this, but I voted for Bush because I believe the security of our citizens comes first – regardless of popular international opinion. Feel free to copy and paste.

If you’re a hyper-sensitive intellectual who’s about to leave me a comment regarding how easy it would be to create a conservative/republican version of the Moonbat – or the ‘Virtual Voice Of Reason’ as I’d probably call it – save your breath. Because you’re correct. Now stop whining and design one of your own if you can stop watching The Daily Show long enough. Is anyone listening to me? Shit – what a waste of my time. They’ve all moved to Canada already.

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New Year’s Eve Nonsense – Who Wants Some?


in Heartwarming

Everybody’s good at something. I’ve always had a knack for throwing good parties. Whereas New Year’s Eve has always excelled at sucking. I’m tired of stuffy black-tie events that usually involve more effort than a wedding and are always a lot less fun. I’m tired of slapdash, mediocre house-parties that are thrown together at the last minute because nobody has anything remotely better to do. I’m tired of never having anything good to look forward to when the ball drops – save for yet another ferocious and expensive hangover. So I’m about ready to throw my hat into the ring and organize an NYE party at The SideBar. I also just used the word ‘slapdash’.

But I’m not going to stick my neck out if nobody cares. I want to get a feel for public opinion on this proposed bender before I spend a month and a half working on it. So here’s the deal – I promise it will be fun, and I promise the price will be right. There will be a DJ, food, champagne and I’ll do my damndest to fill the place with lots of people you know. You’ll be able to invite your friends, and we’ll keep the party going until 2 a.m. It’s a convenient downtown location, and it’s right near the ‘T’. And no, I’m not making any money off of this. Chime in below.

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The Big Haunt: Enough Already.


in Heartwarming

I’ve gotten more photos, and more requests for me to post said photos and finally another mild case of writer’s block. So let’s just marry all these unfortunate circumstances into today’s article. Please bear in mind (and I hate to make excuses) that were this a political or sports related blog, I’d have no end of material you can find absolutely everywhere else. No, kids – I try and actually come up with the sort of stuff I myself would like to read everyday. Always funny, rarely narcissistic, never poignant.

Back when I focused all my efforts on my galleries, it was a lot easier to keep everybody happy – I could stuff sixty or more photos onto one page. But those old things took hours to prepare and write. I’d rather do something daily as opposed to once every four or five months. So here’s another staggered batch of Halloween party photos. First off – I had to eventually include one of myself as Julian from Trailer Park Boys. And here’s another photo of Annaleise which, in spite of Venditti, should score high in the ratings.



A picture is worth a thousand words, two failed hand-job attempts and seventeen dutch-ovens.

Although the whole evening is a little foggy, everyone I spoke with told me that the party was more fun than a bag of wild squirrels. So what’s up with the party animal there on the upper-left? I also have it on good faith that this photo was actually taken before the bash even started. Obviously, that girl never got tea-bagged in college. Then on the right we have the illustrious Gooch – who apparently attended the party as an ex-Mills man who now works for Sleeman. Uncanny, my good sir.

If you’ll allow me to get all Ansel Adams for a moment, here are two entries from our black and white contingency. First, Bryan and Betsy experiment with a position from Michael Hutchence’s Joy Of Sex. While Wicked Mardi and her biatches are just a little too cool for costumes on the right. But then who wasn’t at that tender age? I just wish she’d stop calling me “Uncle Dave”, is all.

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New Features On Pye In The Face.


in Pye in the Face

Since I was apparently channeling the creative talents of Jayson Blair earlier tonight, I thought that any further time spent working on the blog should be devoted to some structural improvements. I found two useful Blogger ‘Hacks’ and have added them to the template. If you care, keep reading. If not, keep reading anyway. If you’ve made it this far you obviously have nothing better to do.

Archive Dropdown Menu:

If you look to the lower left, you’ll see that the archives can now be reached via a handy-dandy dropdown menu. This works double duty – by both saving space, and reinforcing my female readers’ resolve to never date me.

Recent Comments:

Where the aforementioned improvement saves more space space, this next one is simply a colossal waste of it. But we’ll leave it up for a while and see if people actually begin to use it. It’s a list of the most recent user comments since your last visit to Pye In The Face. I hope this will increase the likelihood of people registering with Blogger in order to not have to leave anonymous comments (which drives me bananas with its sheer laziness). But I also think that’s as likely as me seeing a one-legged cat bury a turd on a frozen pond over the coming winter months.

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I’ve Got Nothing.


in

Can you actually write about writer’s block? I’m going to try and find out. Thankfully this doesn’t happen to me very often, as I’m a vertible fricking font of useless information and startling nerdiness. But the last three days have been Sahara-dry in terms of material. For example, here’s a fascinating tidbit to keep you rapt: I’m going upstairs to make tea.

OK – I’m back. Here’s another thing I need to get off my chest: My cat likes to jump onto my desk and stare mournfully at me while I’m typing. Like he maybe thinks I’m writing to the South End animal shelter and pleading with them to come and take his annoying orange ass away. Speaking of the South End, did you notice that I just a) mentioned that I have a cat and b) am drinking tea? I imagine there’s probably a line of sailors forming outside my apartment right now just waiting to slap their cocks off my forehead.

I’m going to fold laundry now. Oh – and there goes the doorbell. I hate being right all the time.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Fancy Lads Love Saganaki.


in Monday's Quotelet

The girl who writes the quizzlets‘ father had a stroke last week – hence the lapse.

I want to thank you all for the very kind comments and prayers that were offered for my father. He came home from the hospital on Wednesday, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and patience!



But she’s back now, so let’s resume…

Appetizer: Name 3 cosmetics/toiletries that you use on a daily basis.

Soap, shampoo and shaving cream. I’m not a fancy lad, by any means.

Soup: Approximately how much exercise do you get per week? What type of exercise is it?

I have a gym in my office building that I get to use for free. So I do. I like to use the elliptical trainer for 30 minutes then hit the weights. The problem is, there’s only one of them in the gym and it’s quite popular. So I figured out, through trial and error, that there’s never anyone in the gym at 3. I ran into this guy I talk to there sometimes in the elevator last week. He says “You’re never in the gym anymore”. I reply, “Yes I am, I just go at 3 now so I can use the machine I like”. So I go in Monday at 3 – and isn’t that cunt in there using my machine.

Salad: Write a sentence including your favorite color and your favorite food.

I get a little blue in the face looking for good Saganaki in Boston. Best. Food. Ever.

Main Course: What famous person/celebrity do you think you look like?

I get Ron Livingston and Brendan Fraser all the time. Which is a vast improvement over Eli from It’s Your Move which I used to get as a kid.

Dessert: Name 2 simple things that never fail to make you happy.

Trailer Park Boys and The Pixies.

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