Archives for February 2005

I promised my roomate I’d Tivo the last episode of the bachelorette for her while she’s working. I’ve had it open on my monitor tonight as I’ve been working. And it’s been painful. And I feel a strange urge to crank up a showtune while drinking carbonated mineral water which I don’t fully understand. But it’s almost over and I can honestly say – I want to watch Jennifer Schefft die in a boating accident.

She rejected not one, but two proposals tonight. “I want you to know that I was fully committed to this. I want you to know that.” She’s used that phrase 14 times tonight. She’s a shallow, self-centered sow who likes herself an awful lot. “You’re wonderful. You’ve been great to me throughout this whole thing.” The fact that the two dejected bachelors are sitting beside her on the couch right now as opposed to urinating onto her face in tandem is a tribute to their restraint.

Thankfully, someone in the studio audience just stood up and asked her “Without sounding harsh, what is it going to take for you to be satisfied?” (Bear in mind she rejected someone on the bachelor before she was given this, her own show). She declined to answer that, and the next three questions she was asked. She’s truly awful.

If it’s bothered me this much, I have to assume that the legions of loyal women viewers who watch this show must be disappointed too. And that I’m gay. Somewhere, a casting agent is losing their contract with ABC.

“I hate to advocate weird chemicals, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone… but they’ve always worked for me“.

I was a little sad when Hunter S. Thompson killed himself a week ago. Discovering his books and essays while in University was an eye-opening and welcome break from the conventions of my American lit classes. Thompson made it clear to me for the first time that when it comes to writing and journalism, there really are no rules. Narrative, wordplay – you can bastardize it all, find your own voice and still wind up with something both entertaining, unique and if it’s called for – informative. It also doesn’t hurt to scribble while under the influence. Which is a relief, as I currenly have my pants around my ankles and a Wild Turkey IV pumping into my right arm.

Thompson remains original, even in death. He often expressed his desire to have his ashes fired into the sky by a cannon, and to honor that wish his family has sent out a nationwide call they hope the rare breed which are cannon-owners will heed. Move the snow-blower out of the way and dust off your best Civil War replica boom sticks. Hunter needs you. And just what do you get if you agree to help fire Hunter out of your cannon? Why, the honor of firing Hunter out of your cannon, of course. Anyone who agrees to make the trip, cannon in tow, will be financing the trek themselves. I paid $8 in shipping for a miniscule phone battery last month. So best of luck to the fortunate volunteer. They also have to win an essay writing contest and entries must be exactly 100 words in length and sent via snail mail.

My apartment is full of all kinds of crap I’ve collected over the years. But alas, a cannon is not part of the clutter. So as my own personal tribute to Thompson, I fired open a bottle of Retsina and forced 2 of my friends who’d never seen it to watch Where The Buffalo Roam on Saturday night. Bill Murray’s hilariously accurate portrayal came to pass after he befriended Thompson in the late 70s and spent a lot of time with him at his Owl Ranch in Colarado. It’s said that it took Murray months to get out of character and he ‘continued to act Gonzo through the beginning of the next season of Saturday Night Live, to the consternation/annoyance of cast and crew members’. But at least he has never been Al Franken.

I love having a site like this – interactive, current, communal – but this stress exists to come up with good content each and every day. I know I’m not the only one who suffers from this fun new bloggy plague. If a site ceases to be ‘sticky’ people no longer show up every day to get stuck. Some days, I’ll post 3 or 4 different articles like it’s nothing. On others I could be channeling Steven King, who could write 16 pages about a popcorn kernel, and wouldn’t be able to think of a single word. It’s easy when you have a sports or political blog because there’s always fresh fodder for your typing fingers. But when your common thread of choice is simply humor – ’tis a whole ‘nother ball game. Still – Pye In The Face has been going strong for 9 months and 300 posts, so I’m still a ‘functioning’ ____ (insert my new medical condition’s name).

There’s also this other annoying distraction that keeps me from musing more during the work week. It’s called a job. Before I get back to it, however, I feel the need to coin a phrase coming on. What could one chisten ‘the stress induced by pressure to come up with blog content’? I await your suggestions.

What a wonderful Saturday in human history. Not only is the big Mardi Gras party tonight, but the new fish tank is up, running and populated! Monster and I drove to the Galleria this morning and stocked up on supplies. I got a new light, food, 2 underwater Mayan castles, a net and even a new scratching post for the Boss. And what of the fish, you ask? You’ll remember earlier this week I was all excited about getting to choose what sort of fish I wanted. I even asked for suggestions. It turns out, the nice lady at Petco told me what sort of fish I had to buy. And they’re scarcely bigger than ants. I was disappointed. I’ll explain.

“You’re going to start off with three Tetras.” The lady turned her back to me and walked over to the tank she had in mind. I immediately balked – “I am? These guys are miniscule. May I ask why?” She didn’t appreciate my questioning her ultimate fishy wisdom. “Because. They’re hardy” came the strained reply. Obviously she meant that the little buggers were resilient, and a good way to kick off a new tank and balance out the PH levels before introducing more delicate additions. “What, like they solve mysteries together?” That got her laughing, and she ended up being quite helpful in the end. As opposed to the fat twat I initially took her for.

So she gave me three Tetras to start off with. Any more than three fish introduced at a given time can cause toxic shock to the rest of the community. They’re tiny (for scale see the one circled above to the right in front of the sacred Mayan temple) and indistinguishable from one another – so I’ve decided to call them the Hansons. Hopefully they won’t wrap foil around their fins and bash new fish into the glass. All in all, I think my little ecosystem is off to a ‘swimming’ start (LOL, ROFL, ROFLPM!) and I’ll keep you updated when I add new citizens. Cornett, Jodice and Jim will be here in half an hour for the party pre-game – at which point the Hansons won’t be the only residents of the apartment up to their eyeballs in filthy liquids.

It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome Cole Thomas Peden into this crazy world of ours, and it’s a better planet for having him. Best wishes to Steve, Jen and their new family. “He’s honestly a wee miracle,” says the proud new Dad, and apparently Jen is taking to motherhood “like a duck to water”. I’m not sure quite how Steve is taking to it, but I’m going to use this opportunity to drop in my personal favorite “like a fat kid to a Smartie“.

He was born at 4pm on Valentine’s day, and weighed in at 7.7 lbs. I fully expect Cole to be running his own print shop by the time he’s old enough to fire his maiden paintball. Nice work, kids. I look forward to meeting/scaring the heck out of the little guy. Yes it’s true, babies love me. And be sure to click here for a Pye in the Face exclusive – Cole’s very first music video.

As you know, I’m throwing a Mardi Gras party this Saturday at Tiernans. Read my previous related article or visit the Evite for more information. I want to give everyone an update on some breaking special arrangements and surprises just in case you’re still on the fence about whether or not you plan to attend/binge drink.

First and foremost, the Corona girls are definitely coming. They’ll be running around in their skimpy little tanktops promoting Corona Lite and buying a whackload of it for party guests. They’ll also have giveaways, brand schwag and large breasts. In addition to my DJ who’ll be spinning from 9-2, a well known WBCN personality is coming down in the station’s Hummer to give away a bunch of very cool prizes and run some Mardi Gras themed contests. The station is also running 4 radio spots between now and then, billing the event as ‘WBCN & Corona’s Late Mardi Gras Bash’. I am billing the event as ‘Pye & WBCN & Corona’s Late Mardi Gras Bash’ since it was my goddamn idea, but who has time to be petty on a night like this is shaping up to be? I’ve been told that they’ve spent 10K on the event to date – so get your fast asses down there for a great time and some free goodies!

Janet sent me a photo of her sledding this past weekend up in Vermont. She looks like she’s having a great time, but I’ve been sledding a time or two in my life and can’t help but notice a few key elements seem to be missing here. I used to tear up Nashawtuc Hill in Concord with my Super GT Snow Racer. Damn straight. They called me ‘The Avalanche’. They also frequently called me “Hey big, drunk 16-year-old who is far too old to be sledding – you’re hurting our children”. Which I never thought was that catchy.

Now, if Janet had said to me instead that she’d been lying in a snowbank while up in Vermont, I wouldn’t take issue with this photo. Is this the training hill? Do they take a couple of dry runs across a parking lot before working their way up to an incline of some sort? Will they actually give her a sled next weekend? Yes, the sledding’s changed a lot since I was a lad. But not the drinking.