Pye in the Face

I’m starting a new blog (as much as I am growing to hate that term) for work which I want Google to find - so I’m linking to it here. You know the drill by now. Within a few months it will become a wealth of search engine marketing and search engine optimization information. So if you care, stay tuned.

Back to the word ‘blog’ and its origins. The term stems from a mish-mash of the words “web” and “log” which when used together was how folks referred to online journals, once upon a time. Google’s Blogger (which I use here - but will soon replace) has made it so easy to have your own ‘blog’ that I’m seriously waiting for my grandmother to send me her URL. I’d guess that www.dontbecheeky.com would probably be her first choice. Or maybe something along the lines of www.getthosedamnsquirrelsoutofthebirdfeeder.net. Regardless, I am in mourning for the medium. Johnny and Janey Everyman are doing to the blog what the white man did to Jazz and hip-hop. Speaking of which, have you heard Kenny G’s new version of Straight Outta Compton?

The following text is a letter my friend Steve penned to the Boston Globe this morning. I had thought of mentioning something similar here on the blog last week, but this speaks volumes and I’m glad that I waited. It is really horrifying (there’s just no other word for it) to think that most major media outlets are downplaying what is happening in Iraq right now because it hurts their agendas and conflicts with their leanings. Have a read:

“I’m utterly disappointed with your coverage of the Iraqi elections. I arrived yesterday, to my adopted home town, fresh from a business trip that afforded me the opportunity to see how Europe, Central and Eastern Asia report upon these crucial Iraqi elections. I rushed down the steps of our triple-decker in South Boston, keen to hear how the elections had played out.

While your headline declares “Iraqis flock to polls” your accompanying editorial misses the point - by about a half century (since the last free elections). Your affront continues, like a toothless pup, at the ankles of the birth of a nation’s independence. Your partisan journalism is found to fail the international fabric of Boston.

You may want to take a note from your column on the Gilette merger, “… as Boston, which once called itself the Hub of the Universe, now finds itself playing second fiddle to cities such as Cincinnati, Charlotte, N.C., and Toronto. I believe your once great news source, is now solidly Bush league, restrained by overt political blindness.”

I couldn’t find the editorial Steve is referring to, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where it’s likely coming from. “Yeah, free elections and Democracy are great and everything, but Bush-bad-lied-Haliburton-no WMD-drunk daughters”. The article was also summarily buried in favor of a story about illegal Guantanamo tribunals and has now dropped somewhere below the piece about whether or not Johnny Damon should cut his hair before his book tour is over. I wish I was kidding. Regardless of what you believe, whom you support or where you stand on issues of the day remember - always consider the source.

It’s DougandDoug’s world this weekend, folks. I’m just a squirrel tryin’ to get a nut. Tri-Con’s piroutte through anonymity has been a strange one - but no more strange than the DVD he took part in a few years back - Foul Wind. The premise is thus: Ron Jeremy narrates a series of flatulence-related segments, tied together by clips of dudes busting off in stripper’s faces. Hey - whatever floats your boat as far as I’m concerned. You twisted bastards.

Have a look at the clips available here. You can even see Doug hanging out with the hedgehog himself during one of the samples. This has got to be right up there with clown porn as the most disgusting sexual fetish I’ve ever heard of/something I’m going to try immediately.

Appetizer: If you had a free subscription to any mag, which would you pick?

Didn’t we have an extremely similar question just recently? Yawn. No matter, I’ve changed my mind. It would be a disturbing hybrid of the new hardcore version of Hustler and Tiger Beat.

Soup: If you became famous, what would you choose as your stage name?

I’d use my real name. I have a blog - obviously I’m not too concerned with anonymity. But let’s talk about porn star names for a minute. Chime in with yours: you remember the drill - your first name is your first pet, your surname is the street you grew up on. That would make me “Apple Island View”. Not so catchy in the light of day. I think I’d go with Dick Hertz.

Salad: What ingredients make an awesome salad?

Cheese, cheese and cheese. I don’t care if it’s gorganzola, feta or even something you picked out from between your toes. The Cobb, the Greek - all lovely. I often carry bricks of gouda over to friend’s dinner parties in case they’re not hip to the practice. And when I tell them I’ve got a little gouda in my pants, they look at me with sad eyes and say, “please leave now”.

Main Course: What do you like most about your current job?

The ability to make or break online businesses based on my skills. SEO skills, Bowstaff skills, etc. We do more of the making, and less of the breaking, thankfully. We’re a small, cohesive unit who can have a massive impact on anyone who signs on. The marketplace is becoming flooded, however, and I fear it is not to last. And Yetis.

Dessert: Who is your favorite instrumental musician (not a singer)?

I’m gonna run with this one a bit. There have been 3 extremely influential guitarists in the past 20 years that I want to mention. The first being The Edge from U2. Like the band or not, when he plays you know it’s him - and it’s extremely hard to find a signature sound on an instrument that exists in such abundance and is so widely used across all musical genres. The second is Johnny Marr of The Smiths for much the same reason. Marr forever changed the way in which a generation of subsequent strummers approached the insturment. Extremely complicated chord progressions and rhythms. Marr’s anithesis, Joey Santiago, is my third choice. He is the polar opposite of Marr - came onto the scene with only a few years of experience under his belt, technically a very poor guitarist. But the fearless sounds that he managed to make have yet to be duplicated, although many have tried. Find the songs ‘Something Against You’ or ‘Vamos’ by The Pixies, lock yourself in a dark room and then crank the volume up to 10 if you don’t believe me. You know what? I am going to blare them both right now.

Triconi and Krintzman, a.k.a. Doug & Doug, have their new Southern Comfort TV spots airing twice this weekend during the two showings of Me Myself & Irene on FX - tonight and tomorrow at 10pm EST. The jist is, they’re scouring the seedy depths of New Orleans during Mardi Gras seeking SoCo’s secret recipe, and all sorts of funny hijinks ensue.

If you haven’t already, visit their site and watch the two hilarious videos they have posted. Then click here to see Tri-con manhandling my cat. And if you’re in watching TV tonight or Saturday, tune in and catch the spots. It’s a great movie, and the multiple ads are spaced out throught the two-hour slot. Good luck boys! This could be the start of something big. Or at least a crate of free SoCo, which Krintzman would likely prefer over Playboy bunnies anyday.

When Janet told me that her New Year’s Eve Blind Date was a bit of a pig, I just thought she meant he was portly. Or perhaps went for tongue during the midnight kiss. Boy, was I WAY off.

I know, I know. You can’t judge a book by it’s cover. I’m sure porky keeps his sty clean, is an effective truffle sniffer and never, ever, squeals like Ned Beatty. I too have picked up a few pigs in Pho over the years - who hasn’t - but they always had hearts of gold. And were men.

I finished another website last night for my friend, Angelo Rizza. He’s an excellent hair stylist and colorist who works in Boston and New York City. When he’s working in Boston he can be found at Avanti Salon on Newbury Street. So, if you’re in need of an excellent Boston hair stylist, visit the site and give him a ring.

OK, now you’re asking yourself “Dave, did you fall and hit your head this morning? Where the hell are the hooker jokes?” the answer is “yes” actually. But that has nothing to do with why I’ve just sung the praises of Angelo for an entire paragraph. Or suffocated a hooker.

Here’s the way search engine algorithms are playing it these days: they give incredible relevance to your ranking based on incoming links to your site, and the keywords contained in those links. So, if I build a website for a Boston hair stylist, and I want it to be well ranked for that keyword phrase, I link to it from external sites using those very same words within the hyperlink. You dig? You still reading?

So now Google, which spiders my site daily, will follow the link, find the new site and then add it to it’s index. Some people pay me a lot of money for advice like that (or my company, I should say - I still can’t afford good snow boots). So if you wake up in a sweat tonight, wondering why you obsess over reading my site everyday - now you have an excellent way to justify it. Free SEO advice/dead hooker jokes always keep asses in seats.

Working from home on Monday was cool. I did enjoy getting to stay up a little later carousing after the Patriots victory Sunday night. And I grew up in Ottawa so this hardly phases me - but fer feck’s sake, Old Man Winter - Give us a chance to dig out at least. In the last three days I’ve ruined 2 pairs of dress shoes. I got a phone call at work from my hysterical 78-year-old neighbor pleading with me to carry her trash to the end of the street. I assume that the alarm going off in my office building right now means snow evacuation and my now having to walk all the way home after just arriving. But let’s get back to North End ‘Snow Rules’ for a second.

1. If you shovel someone’s sidewalk, staircase or entry way, you get to remind them of that fact every time you see them until at least the first snowfall of the following winter.
2. Thinking about moving one of those planters blocking the sidewalk on almost every main street to shovel/plow snow? Think again.
3. If you put your trash out before nightfall, your name will be mud (this actually applies all year round).
4. If you live on a lane, and it’s snowed in, you have to carry all your trash to neutral main street areas.

Stay warm, kids. It’s far from over.

It’s been a long night, but I finally got The SideBar’s new website off the ground. Please click on through and have a look. I’ve convinced the owners to start a monthly lottery to encourage people to register for the site’s mailing list. $50 goes a long way in that joint, so sign up now for a chance to win. The best part is, after you join you’re still eligible to win the lottery every single month going forward. Not a bad deal, if I do say so myself.

There’s a lot of work left to do in terms of content, but I’m getting there and figured it was time to roll it on out to the people (and the search engine spiders). You’ll notice I snuck a lot of my friends onto the front page - Emily, Monster, Bobby, Kyle, Troy, etc. If you’ve got a problem with that, I’d like to suggest a local community college web design course. And suicide.

By now I’m sure you’ve all heard about the wonders of Google’s free service: G-Mail… You get a gigabyte of storage, a 10 MB transfer limit, user-friendly filing abilities and a whole lot more. The downside is, you need to get an invite from someone who already uses it to be part of the silly fun-fun.

I feel like one of those shock-jocks or something but: for a limited time, not valid in New Jersey, Poughkeepsie or Idaho, employees of Pye In The Face and their relatives are not eligible to win (bell rings, whistle blows, prostitute screams for her life) - I have 10 G-Mail accounts to give away. First come, first serve. E-mail or IM me.

With people finder websites you can find people online including finding friends and old classmates that you just can’t seem to get ahold of anymore. You can also find criminal records on just about any person on most people search websites.

One of the first people I met after moving to England to work at The Hind’s Head in 1998 was Tom Adams. I immediately had him pegged as a bit of a ham, albeit a hilarious one, but so many people seemed to come into the pub and recognize him… point… giggle… that I finally asked him what the big deal was. “David, my young Canadian friend,” he began. “I’ve been in the motion pictures, you see!” I learned from talking to other locals that he was most reknown for the string of funny commercials he’d made. Most of them for DFS Furniture. But his most famous spot was the infamous and side-splitting Hyundai ad.

Tom’s career has actually been fairly impressive overall. He played one of the British prisoners in The Great Escape and even has a few lines. He co-starred with Raquel Welch in Fathom (watch the trailer and look for the guy trying to kill Raquel with a speargun) and has been on all kinds of notable TV shows: Dr. Who, Remington Steele and The Avengers - to name a few.

When I left England he came to my ‘leaving do’ and offered some words of wisdom while my co-worker Tim went around videotaping all of the locals. “David and I have spent many long afternoons together discussing his problems… of which there are many.” Funny stuff. But actually I spent the majority of my time trying to keep the pub landlord from killing Tom - as he would hit on his wife incessantly. Tom is nearly 70 years old and still chasing tail like a drunken teenager. Quite effectively, I might add. I hope to go back to Bray some day soon, and when I do I’ll look him up. Or should I say, I’ll walk into The Hind’s.

Kids - switch to Nextel immediately. Can’t stress that enough. More importantly, when did Boston turn into Hoth? The heat is off in my living room, and I’m about to slice open a tauntaun and crawl inside in order to keep watching the Patriots game in relative comfort. Will a TV fit inside one of those crazy ice-hopping creatures? I’ll let you know.

And more more importantly, thanks for all the laughs, Johnny.

Appetizer: What is one quality you really admire about yourself?

My mother is a pussycat, while my father is a bit of an arsehole. I was once an even mix of the two personalities - each type has its own pros and cons. I was a tender and sympathetic young lad, but 3 high schools in 4 years changed that dramatically. In University I hovered somewhere in-between, but the past 5 years of inner-city living have pushed me further and further towards the dark side. I guess I admire my ability to embrace and appreciate the need to have a balance of good and evil in your personality. It’s essential for self preservation - and reminding yourself that while showing young girls your boxer shorts on the street is pretty hot, it can still get you arrested in most states.

Soup: What kind of shampoo and conditioner do you use?

PineSol and Ajax. Alternately.

Salad: Describe your favorite movie scene. The one that gets to you every time.

There are several. The scene in Goodfellas where Liotta’s voiceover starts talking about how Jimmy has just decided to kill everyone involved with the heist. There’s a slow motion zoom on DeNiro, leaning against a bar engulfed in cigarette smoke while Sunshine of Your Love plays in the background. That always gives me a chill. Then there’s the scene in Blade Runner where Roy saves Deckard from falling off the building and then sits down in the rain to give him a strange Nexus 6 soliloquy: “I watched seabeams glitter in the dark off the Tanhauser Gate…” You don’t know what the hell the dying android is talking about - but you’re transfixed none the less. I could give you ten more. And then act them all out with legos.

Main Course: If you were a veggie, which one would you be, and why?

A brussel sprout. Because I’d have a much longer life expectancy.

Dessert: If you took a trip within 100 miles where would you go?

To my buddy Dave Vadenais’ restaurant in Sturbridge. A ‘friend’ and I went up there about a year ago for dinner, etc. and had a delicious time. Amazing food, super atmosphere and a great excuse to get out of the city. Also a convenient, out of the way town in which to bury said friend in a shallow grave when the date turns sour. Dave, what did you put in that salad, you silly goose?!

Some people who blog in Boston do little else but bitch about the T. I have refrained thus far, as I only ride the detestable subway when it gets cold outside. But baby - it’s cold outside. So as it happens, I have a gripping tale of lust, agony and deceit to share with you from this morning’s commute. Translation: strange smells, mental illness and filth. Or ‘business as usual’ as most regular riders would agree.

Look – and I shouldn’t have to come out and say this - please don’t break wind on the T. Unless you have a syndrome of some kind or a severe digestive dilemma - there’s just no excuse for it. No one has ever had to bust ass so badly that they can’t hold it for a few stops. When I walked onto the train at Haymarket this morning, the warm, slimy gust of methane that greeted my sinuses made me feel like I was stepping into a cattle car for a 3 day ride to a gulag somewhere. It smelt like a goddamn pig farm - who are you people? Here’s an idea, save a cork from your next vino purchase and plug yourself up anytime you need to leave the house. Oh, and my new Nextel makes a loud fart sound whenever someone texts me. In that context, it’s perfectly acceptable.

After I found a spot leaning against the wall, a small man with a beard and glasses loudly slapped the wall beside where he was sitting, got up and rushed of the train just as the doors closed. Maybe that’s some kind of OCD, maybe he was high-fiving the car due to an impressive travel time or maybe it was even a little fresh with him. I really can’t say. But I will say this - find him and lock him up immediately. To my left was a scrawny, herion addicted looking chap with a Great Gatsby hat, beard and so many earrings that I felt a sudden need to inventory my tackle box when I get home tonight. He was drawing a floorplan in a small notebook and when the train stopped at Park Street, he started cursing and waving his hand up and down. Then he turned to the horrified woman beside him, smiled and asked to get past her. Needless to say, she obliged. Then he stepped off the train and broke back into his cussin’ and blindin’ as he walked along the side of it. I have to assume that the floorplan was actually a few ideas on how to feng shui his padded cell when his day pass expires at 4 p.m. today.

Then, before we could pull out of Park Street, the T driver got up suddenly, came out from behind her curtain like the Wizard of Oz, looked at the car full of people, said something unintelligible and then walked off - only to be replaced by 2 MBTA cops. They surveyed the crowd, talked to a few people and stayed on board until the hysterical driver returned 3 or 4 minutes later. Did she think she’d spotted a suspected terrorist in her rear view? Can you guess why the cops didn’t stop to talk to me? I was a little insulted as I like to think I look rather ominous when wearing my Triple Fat Goose jacket and Trailer Park Boys toque. Please be gentle and don’t ruin that for me. It’s all I have.

Due to all-around abysmal reception, and a contact within the company (I believe Master P called that ‘The Hook Up’, I’ve switched over to a Nextel cellphone - and I’m really pleased so far. I don’t need to go up to the roofdeck with a coat-hanger and tin foil in order to make a call on a $300 phone anymore. And I can actually hear the phone when it rings as opposed to before when the tone could get drowned out by fruitfly flatulence.

One of the coolest features is the Direct Connect capability, which allows you to use your phone as if you’re speaking to someone on a walkie-talkie. I told my friend Megan (the only other person I know with a Nextel) my Direct Connect number and she crackled through a few minutes later – I may live to regret that. But very Convoy-ish and cool. Who else amongst you has this wondrous capability?

If you’re a friend of mine, and you have a Nextel, leave a comment or send me an email with your DC number. This will be fun, and no - my nerdiness knows no bounds. Nextel - Not just for construction workers anymore. But still fine for serial masturbators and dweebs.

Last week, I suggested that Michael Moore would be perfect to play Clyde the orangutan in a fantasy remake of the seminal Clint Eastwood classic, ‘Any Which Way You Can’. I have since rethought my childish barb and want to issue a full apology to Mr. Moore and any other moonbats who may have been offended by my ignorant suggestion.

My reason for the retraction has nothing to do with a new found respect for the man. On the contrary - I still think he’s an overrated, slovenly mound of stegasaurus dung. I’ve just found a more appropriate part for him, is all. They’ve cast almost every role for the upcoming remake of Charlotte’s Web - that heartwarming tale from our youth (if you’ve never read it then you obviously grew up on the moon). Have a read and see if you can remember what major character is conspicuously absent from the article.

OK - do you see where I’m going with this now? Need I say more? Someone get that fat windbag on the phone and let him know that his dream role is about to be lateraled to Louie Anderson.

I got an excited instant message from my sister last night, commanding me to Tivo American Idol. I immediately remembered why - her and her roomate, Aaron, went down to Washington over the summer so he could audition for the show. Those tapings were edited together into the beyond amusing 2 hour episode which was broadcast on Fox last night.

Aaron is a member of the Boston-based acapella group, Ball in the House, and I’ve seen them perform 4 or 5 times. They’re all really talented - especially Aaron. So when he was cut after surviving the first three eliminations we were all surprised. But after watching the show for the first time last night, it quickly became apparent why he wasn’t chosen. It’s less about talent, and more about your story, your appearence and how you’ll compliment the overall dynamic of the final group that is chosen.

In addition, based on photographs I got from Fox’s website last night, I’ve outlined a few more ways in which to increase your chances of getting chosen to go on to the final round:

First of all, don’t tempt fate. If you tell Simon and Randy that you borrowed bus fare to get to Washington, haven’t eaten in four days all the while smelling like fromunda cheese - they’re probably not going to want to spend much additional time near you, regardless of your talent. Also, don’t fashion kooky clothing in an attempt to better your odds: “Lady in the green t-shirt… I’m guessing… bust.” Some of the contestants get really mad after they’re dismissed and start hurling insults at Simon Cowell. There’s nothing wrong with that - it’s the reason most people watch the show. Listen up, guy on the upper right: if you want to get into a room with him in the first place, maybe don’t resemble Bernard Goetz so much next time.

Speaking of resemblences, a lot of the contestants dressed to resemble their favorite pop stars. There were Britneys, Alishas, Beyonces - I think I even spotted a Stefani or two. But making yourself up to look like your very bestest chanteuse, and then dressing like them to boot, is not a good way to express your individuality or uniqueness. No, that’s actually called ‘Halloween‘. Also, make sure that if you are going to attempt the impersonation strategy, your choice isn’t the principal from the Smokin’ In The Boys Room video.

Those were the major lessons I took away from last night’s installment. A few other quick notes: tell the screeners that you do have a day pass from your respective mental institution - even if you don’t. Be gay. If you have a lovely voice, put on a few pounds - say 400 - just to make it fair for everybody else. Wear your trailer park’s commemorative t-shirt - I heard Paula Abdul grew up in one. And above all else - never, ever, bathe prior to your big day. Good luck to us all.

I don’t know who these cats are, I don’t know where one would aquire that many death-defyingly awful sweaters, I don’t know which Lord of the Rings DVD release they’ve convened to celebrate. Now I know what you’re thinking (Wow, I sounded like Magnum there): “Dave, People who live in glass houses…” - I mean, I did spend the majority of the weekend building websites, afterall. But this photo is absolutely breathtaking.

I have to get to work. I’ll beef this up later with more hypocritical nerd-bashing.

(Time Passes)

It was a long walk to the office during which I came up with a few possible explanations for this photograph. I’ll write them down quickly while my 174 long-weekend emails download. Please feel free to contribute some of your own:

1.) “Yeah we were totally playing. But then Erwald rolled a +6 for invisibility and now we have to pretend we can’t see him.”

2.) A press junket photo from the sequel to Capturing The Friedmans. Capturing The Friedmans II: Let’s stop pretending we come over here for Commodore Pet lessons and start the circle-jerk.

3.) Early auditions for the role of Kip were postponed due to a lack of nacho cheese and steak.

4.) Louis Skolnick’s bachelor party was a bit shit until repeated cart-slot-blowing got the Nintendo back online.

5.) The motion is on the table and let’s put it to a vote: Those in favor of changing our name to the “All New Wil Wheaton Fan Club” raise your hands.

In rare cases, insomnia can lead to surprising productivity. It’s nearly 6 in the morning and I’m still cranking. And cranky.

Let’s face it - one of blogging’s main charms is the ability people have to leave comments on your posts. A little community sprouts up and people can chat to one another or simply badmouth the original author (me). The problem I’ve been having is that until now it’s been quite a task to comment. You had to register with Blogger (Google), log in, provide a blood sample, etc.

As frustrated as ever with the limitations of the pedestrian ‘Blogger‘ software, I did yet another search for a suitable hack that would do the trick. And I finally found one! In a nutshell, you will no longer have to login to avoid leaving an anonymous comment. Just click through to the comments page for a particular article and fill in the form at the bottom. You can even preview your post or opt to have it remember your information. I am psyched - this is just what I’ve been searching for. Well done Ebenezer!

I need to make a few tweaks so it fits in better with my design, but it’s functional as of 10 minutes ago. So I hope that going forward even more of you will comment here on Pye In The Face. I’ve made it ridiculously easy, and you now have no excuse. Unless, of course, you have a life.

I wouldn’t be able to sleep right now if I paid someone to come by and hit me in the head with a snow shovel. Although I’m sure there’s a few people on this planet who would do it for free. So I’ve made yet another tweak to the blog. A “Classics” section, on the sidebar to the lower left, which I’ll update once a month or so. Think of it as a “best of” area where I’ll post stuff I think deserves a second look. Articles can get buried in the archives rather quickly. Some deserve it - some don’t.

In addition to my blogging nerdery I did do some socializing over the weekend. Friday I hung out with my friend Sarah for the first time in over a year. We had a great time leaning against the wall beside the SideBar’s jukebox and exchanging gossip about former co-workers. But I was dismayed to discover that the Tragically Hip song has disappeared. From the jukebox, that is. I don’t think Gord Downie has ever worked at TechTarget. But thank God the nine Jay-Z albums have remained intact.

Then Saturday night I ran into Christina whom I went to high school with. We talked for a couple hours and brutally judged the lives of our many mutual friends. She showed me a picture of her adorable baby son and I wondered for the eighteenth time this week if it’s not time to stop pretending I’m 22. Then I got back to my apartment to find it full of drunk, 22 year old girls - and decided I’ll put off the maturity thing just a bit longer.