Pye in the Face

I’m zipping along the tracks on the 8:45 out to Fitchburg. Jim is picking me up in Lincoln, after which we’ll spend another in a long line of evenings getting silly at the Red House. Saturday, we’re all headed down to Newport for Harko’s bachelor party. Golf in the afternoon, and Foxwoods in the evening. Gambling and golf are two things at which I most certainly do not excel, and I fully expect to return to Boston Sunday night with a sore back, a light wallet and a stab wound. And a new stripper girlfriend who is extremely mad at her father for something.

Jeeps the train’s speaker is friggin’ loud. Maybe I shouldn’t have sat right underneath it. Must be great for the hearing impaired, though. And perhaps even better at actually making healthy people hearing impaired. I have noticed many such trade-offs during my strange life so far. Like that one about tits and bulls.

You know what this laptop needs? A video game. I need to find a decent distraction for these long periods of internetless travel. Maybe a Tetris clone or one of those Nintendo emulators where you can play old cartridge ROMs on your PC. Yep - me, the open road and Rush N’ Attack. A winning combination if ever one existed.. Unless of course I ever plan on sleeping with a woman again.

Appetizer: Name 3 people whom you admire for their intelligence.
The Hanson brothers. Mmmmmbop? Try evil geniuses… bop. Notice how you never see the three of them and Al Zarqawi in the same room? I rest my case. And I like those Trivial Pursuit guys, too.

Soup: What’s the last food you tried that you really didn’t care for.
Tombeno made me try a bite of this ridiculously huge lobster when we were in Montreal. I wanted to be a good sport (he was so excited). I wanted to be open-minded and adventurous. But I ended up retching and gagging as soon as my teeth sank into the minging, fishy mess. What is it about seafood that people love so much? Please explain this to me. If I were frigging shipwrecked, I’d still be wandering around the island looking for a burger or chicken fingers off the children’s menu.

Salad: If you could rename your street, what would it to be called?
Pyeton Place. With less beehives. Okay, you got me. More beehives.

Main Course: When was the last time you were genuinely surprised?
At my inability to write anything funny today. IPA is my kryptonite, apparently.

Dessert: Share a household tip.
Mold always grows on the lower windowsills of my building in the North End. Said sills also happen to be my bedroom. Now… whether this is due to the proximity to street level, or my Dahmeresque disposal methods, is beside the point. Regardless, Clorox bleach kills mold dead.

Perhaps you’d like to listen to me blather on about A&E’s The First 48 a little more? Fantastic then. As I’ve already mentioned, it’s basically CSI in the real world - cameras follow around seasoned homicide detectives as they bag dead guys literally, and then bag bad guys figuratively. I can’t get enough of it, and as I devour episode after episode On Demand as I try and get to sleep each night, I’ve slowly become sort of an authority on murder best practices. I’m going to condense a few time saving tips I’ve collected should you be contemplating the premeditated slaughter of another human being. Whatever I can do to help.

1. Try and stick to the prostitutes. The majority of the unsolved murders seem to be unfortunate streetwalkers whose families just assume they’ve been croaked anyway. “You found her dead in a ditch? That’s too bad, because her father and I always dreamed she’d end up decapitated and stuffed in a footlocker.”

2. Burn that shit. I mean seriously. When these cops find a corpse that’s been torched, they don’t know where to begin. No fingerprints, no DNA no driver’s license, no dice.

3. If you have an accomplice, be sure to kill them too. Maybe not right away, but do your best to get around to it. They’ll get arrested for something else and no matter how insignificant the charge (think jaywalking) they’ll flip on you for the previous murder. Like a flapjack.

I could continue, but I don’t want to be perceived someone who is sick, deranged and potentially dangerous. I am only trying to help those who truly are - get a leg up. Even if that leg used to be attached to a sex worker.

“Bastard pop is a musical genre which, in its purest form, consists of the combination (usually by digital means) of the music from one song with the acapella from another. Typically, the music and vocals belong to completely different genres. At their best, bastard pop songs strive for musical epiphanies that add up to considerably more than the sum of their parts.”

I’ve heard several of these so called Jay-Z “mashups” - Jigga meets The Beatles, J-Hova meets Linkin Park, etc. - but the best so far has been Zigga Jizzy Ho-Ho coming face to face with the Grateful Dead in the 13 song album “Jay-Z’s Dead”. The potential for patchouli and bling jokes here is so tremendous that I’m left speechless, but have a listen on Radio Pye and see if you’re struck with the sudden urge to bust a cap whilst playing hackey sack.

The meld of Scarlet Begonias and 99 Problems is my favorite tune, but other notables include Dirt Off Your Shoulders/Friend Of The Devil and December 4th/Dark Star. I’m not a huge Jigga fan and I’m only beginning to dip my toe in the Dead after years of violent resistance, but I think these conglomerations are extremely cool and I can’t wait to see what they come up with next as more and more underground DJs get into the ‘mix’. Hah, you see what I did there?

Have a look here for more examples - including KRS One vs. S Club 7, Jet vs. Christina Aquilera and Eminem vs. a slew of popular T.V. themes. Meanwhile, I’ll be here in my apartment making a 3-foot Hennessy bong.

You know what I’m talking about. Living in a desolate cabin in the woods sans electricity or running water. Screaming at chirpy squirrels whilst dropping grumpys in a rusty bucket. Shooting rock salt out of a World War I era shotgun at anyone who gets within 25 feet of my humming hovel. Peace, quiet and exceptional filth.

“It was this lifestyle and the actual cabin that his attorneys would use to try to call his sanity into question during his trial. It was a defense strategy that Kaczynski said naturally greatly offended him.”

Offend away - because while I fully realize I have been truly blessed with a great many friends, this summer is running me ragged. And it’s only going to get more hectical. Weddings, bachelor parties, trips up North… pretty soon I’ll be living in the aforementioned cabin because I’ve spent all my money on nickel-plated cocktail blenders, hotel rooms and plane tickets - and not because I decided to “drop-out” of proper society or corrode conformity. Either way, I’d best get used to the idea.

Has anyone been to this new place Chunky’s? I guess the two-word elevator pitch would be “Indoor Drive-In”. There’s one in Pelham and one in Haverill. I’m seriously considering getting a dog team, a compass and a flare gun together to see if I can go find one of these joints. It’s like Chuck E. Cheese with a DUI.

Well what we do here at Chunky’s is pretty amazing. First, we seat you at a table in one of our spacious cinemas. Depending on the cinema your movie is playing in, our tables are designed to accommodate 2 to 8 people. Your leather chair is the driver or passenger seat from a Limousine and will have one armrest, recline, and is on wheels. Your waiter or waitress will take your order so you don’t have to miss any of the good parts! Our menu selections currently include beer & wine, soft drinks, and a variety of pub-style food selections. Most theaters will open at least an hour before the movie starts. You may also order throughout the movie.

Is it somehow intrinsically wrong that I really want to go see Wedding Crashers at Chunky’s? This seems like a great idea that would be very popular in theory - so why does one need a sherpa, a Mohican scout and a divining rod in order to get out there?

Appetizer: If you could make an even trade for any car, what would you drive?
I gave my car to charity a few years ago. I never used it, and it was dilapidating rapidly. Wow, that was fun to say - rapidly dilapidating. I live about as downtown in Boston as you can get and can walk to work. But a new car is definitely on my horizon. If I traded in what I have now (nothing) for the equivalent, I’d obviously end up with a ‘72 Gremlin or a uni-rickshaw.

Soup: Take your phone number and add each number - what’s the total?
Let’s see here. The total is… carry the one… the total is a total waste of time. Which is perfectly at home here on Pye in the Face, but this is not your best work, Quizzlet. For shame.

Salad: When were you last outside, and what were you doing?
Two hours ago I was walking to work across Boston common in a black, long-sleeved button down and jeans. It’s casual Friday, afterall. Unfortunately, it’s also mid-July and strolling through Beantown is like being on the surface of Mars in a fur-lined snowsuit. So I’ll be hitting the gym for a shower in the not too distant future. It’s quite Presidential to walk into your office and then spend the next 30 minutes sweating all over interns, though.

Main Course: What’s your favorite restaurant, and what do you usually order?
I have a bunch, and I’ve already mentioned Greek Food below, so I’m gonna go off on a tangent and talk about Gagsters. I drove over to the American side of Niagara Falls to hit this place about 7 years ago, and it’s been on my mind fricking daily ever since. Huge, delicious square pizzas that can feed 6 people, tasty towers of Buffalo wing baskets with the best sauce I have ever tasted (so you know it’s vinegary). If you’re ever in the neighborhood (East Market Street) get your fat ass in there and make it a little bit fatter.

Dessert: Name 3 things in which you occasionally indulge.
Greek food is God. I will snarf down Saganaki and Dolmadakia like a blistered, twitching crack whore. I also have a weakness for NHL 2K5 and Hogan Knows Best at the moment. And here you thought I was going to say ‘crack’ or something. “Say your prayers, eat your feta and stay out of the meth labs, brother!”

Modern fingerprint technology, ultra-violet light and DNA evidence assist in the capture and conviction of a decent percentage of today’s criminals. But all of these practices would be nothing without old-fashioned police legwork and intuition. Take little Patty Trimble, for example. He had Ohio’s finest running in circles whilst in pursuit of him for the inhalation of harmful intoxicants. Through a combination of a full neighborhood canvass, an anonymous tip and that frigging thing they do with the superglue on the car windows - they eventually got their man.

Listen - I’m no Lex Luthor. But Patty, if you don’t want to get arrested for huffing spraypaint - maybe don’t show up three times in the same day to buy a can at the local Dollar Store store blathering incomprehensibly and looking like the lovechild of Craig T. Nelson and Golddust next time. I’m just sayin’.

Reaction to the Quotelets was fast and fierce when I started them a few months back. Recently though, the participation has petered out and I can’t help but think it’s because I’d never conceeded defeat. I am happy to announce that I’ve finally been unsurped, and I’m hoping that fact will breathe some life back into these little interactive literary bastards.

Way to go Keo - although only a handfull of us will get the joke, and I am not going to explain it to the rest of you for fear of being convicted of a hate crime, it was fricking hilarious and I’m officially giving you the conch. Your name has been added to the new current champ listing on the left, and I hope you stay there for many weeks. Send me a photo and I’ll add it too. And to the rest of you - this can be a lot of fun, so let’s keep ‘er going. Bragging rights get me out of bed in the morning.

I have been listening to these guys incessantly for 2 days now after a friend suggested I check the scene. “For Real” off Okkervil River’s 4th album, Black Sheep Boy, starts out quiet and measured, turns into a screaming spittle-fest fairly quickly and then gets all kinds of Neil Young on your ass during the denoument. Their other album I have heard, Don’t Fall In Love With Everyone You See, had me appreciating the country-esque more than I ever remember having prior, and I love the move they seem to have made into less Oakie rockingness. Texas by way of New Hampshire.

I’ve added the song to Radio Pye, and it’s the first tune that will play when you hit the zap button - until next Wednesday, that is. If you like what you hear, visit their website - and check back in a week for another widiculous Wadio Wednesday. Since you can only listen to, and not download, these songs, I hope to avoid jail time at least temporarily. Enjoy the audio while you can.

Hardly a sudden passing at 91 years of age, but I’d still like to tip my hat to Geraldine Fitzgerald who passed away only this morning. You’ll remember her as the Grandmother who faked her own death and left son-in-law Rodney Dangerfield 40 million if he could sober up inside of a year in one of my top 5 favorite comedies, Easy Money. If you have never seen this flick, we now live in an age where ‘Tivo’ is a verb, so make some time and watch it.

Of course, while a part of my cherished canon, Mrs. Monahan is hardly the role for which she’ll be remembered. Her appearences in Wuthering Heights, Dark Victory and an Orson Welles production make Easy Money look like… well, Easy Money. But she had a great sense of the comedic (she also played Dudley Moore’s Grandmother in Arthur,) and I wanted to wish her a safe trip down the pearly pike.

Few things are more embarassing in life, that don’t involve black latex body suits, than navigating to a crappy site - either carelessly or because you were misled - and then having a loud midi version of ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ start playing in the middle of your crowded office. So for this reason I have stayed away from ever lacing any of my web pages with audio. But I’ve rethought my position somewhat after discovering RadioBlogClub. Streisand, however, can still suck a big tide prince or whatever.

Since the radio doesn’t start playing unless you turn it on, I feel much better about exposing you to my utterly illogical taste in music. If you don’t want to soak up some of my favorite all-time-tunes don’t switch the gaudy frigging thing on in the first place. However, if you’re curious about any of the music I talk about here on Pye In The Face, a free sample is just a click away in the left hand column. With no further ado - I give you Radio Pye.

The songs load up quick, and the quality is great. I wish the little bugger fit the column better, and I have yet to painstakingly try to match the colors to the rest of my template, but it works like a charm and I’ve uploaded about 20 songs so far which you can turn on and cycle through by hitting the “Zap” button in the upper-right hand corner. I’ve talked about Stompin’ Tom, The Doves, The Gorillaz, The Pixies, etc. and they’re all broadcasting live here 24 hours a day. I’m going to introduce a feature where I add a special song to the playlist every week and then introduce it into the lineup. And, whenever I mention a song, a speech, a comedy clip, etc. in a blog article - I’ll add it to Radio Pye so everyone can follow along. And also don’t think for a moment that I harbor any confusion over whether or not I’m the only person who gives a shit.

This radio plug-in may be gone tomorrow depending on the reaction (and more importantly its strain on my bandwidth) but you never know. It also might become a popular staple. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think/how much you want for those pictures of me in the bottom half of the catwoman costume.

What a silly, slovenly adventure we had. I am in desperate need of sleep, but I wanted to get the carefully-edited gallery of multiple omissions up before I signed off - as I know there are many people who couldn’t be there who are more than a little curious. I will let the pictures speak/slur for themselves, and add some descriptions over the next week.

I will say this however - there were no assaults, deaths, arrests or witnesses to speak of. Doug had a great time, and all of his groomsy-bachelor minions did too. I could live in Montreal. I’m not kidding… I could get in a UHaul and move up there tomorrow. If I had one single solitary red cent left for the rental fee. And to think - I still have to get to Vancouver for the wedding. Anybody wanna buy a cat?

To say we’re having fun up here in Montreal would be a gross understatement. And it’s definitely been gross. I’ll go into carefully-proofread detail upon my return. Bachelor parties are supposed to celebrate an impending wedding, not keep it from ever happening in the first place.

And if you’re in need of a severe belly-laugh (you’ve been warned,) I’ve got just the thing. Ladies and gents, please enjoy this new trailer for The Wedding Crashers I created with our old pals Jason and Doug edited in. This is possibly the most amazing marketing ploy I have ever seen. Now, back to the debauchletness.

I’m not going to be around a computer, or even resonably coherent enough, to mark the imminent and incredibly unlikely one-year anniversary this Saturday of that strange collection of vowels and consonants that is Pye In The Face. I started this site to learn about blogging as a marketing tool, and simply fell in love with the medium. It’s probably just thinly-veiled narcissism, but I’ve enjoyed entertaining my friends, old and new, for the past 365 days more than you can imagine. I’ve met many people, sparked a wealth of petty debate and spread around a font’s worth of useless knowledge that has hopefully made each and every one of you smile somewhere along the way.

In the past 12 months, 25,750 unique visitors have read my 436 ridiculous articles 78,932 times. I’ve been called an asshole, a pervert, a neo-con and a ‘beautiful man’ - albeit only 3 times in the same sentence. My only running theme is attempted humor, which makes the site a little hard to palate for the masses - but to be honest that’s the way I’d like to keep it. I can think of few things more appropriate than to now recap a few of my favorite moments that you may have missed the first time around. And the award goes to:

- Best unsupervised fight in the comment section.
- Most overtly nostalgic.
- Weakest attempt at keeping the blog apolitical.
- Best appearance on Comedy Central.
- Most meanspirited celebrity rip.
- Worst blog entry ever.
- Best Tall Tale.
- Best Quizzlet & Quotelet.
- Worst attempt at one-upping me.
- Best attempt at one-upping me.
- Best comment by a famous comedian.
- Most incoming links from other sites.
- My favorite Boston-related article.

I’ll leave it at that. For those of you who visit the site daily, it’s been a real pleasure. I’d like to invite you all to share your disgust, praise, favorite articles, etc. in the comments below - especially if you’re one of my loyal readers who never utters a peep. I know from my server logs that there are about 50 of you - who are you people, and what am I doing right?

Oh, and while we’re all here - this is the little belch that started it all.

Yep - I’m smoked. Headed to a bachelor party in Montreal early tomorrow morning with one of the craziest groups of guys I’ve crossed paths with since the definitive glory days of the Brampton Posse. Nate, Lance, Tombeno and I are all staying in an Executive Suite at the Godin, which is about as posh as it gets in Quebec. It’s also a little bit like putting a silk hat on a pig. I’ll be sure to get some photos of the room prior to there being an enormous streak of pink human honk across one of the walls.

If this is any indication, this weekend will border on the debaucherous. The emails that have been circulating between the LA crew and the Concord crew have been a network-administrator-with-a-grudge’s dream come true. We haven’t even left yet and I’ve already spent a small fortune. But I think that through a combination of pacing, penicillin and the buddy system - the four of us should get home in one piece. Or at least with all of the pieces in the same car.

Any photos that don’t include either the groom or myself tarred and feathered whilst being spanked with a trout by a midget that looks uncannily like Anna Nicole Smith will be posted in the gallery sometime next week. Until then, you’ll just have to open a window, stay completely silent and listen keenly for my muffled screams.

I’ve never opened Pye In The Face up to a guest writer before, but as the launch of my new joint-venture looms ever-imminent I thought I’d give you all a taste of what’s in store over at GoonBlog.com which launches July 31st. Detroit Velvet Smooth - take it away:

It appears that after a 300 day odyssey, the NHL and NHLPA have finally come to an agreement. The deal they are forging still needs to be approved, but they would be fools to turn this one down as any subsequent arrangement will not be as lucrative. As far as the players are concerned, this isn’t the deal they should have taken. No, the multi-millionaire club should have taken the deal that almost saved the season 5 months ago after Bettman’s initial cancellation. Surely you remember that most-magical ‘Glimmer-of-Hope’ weekend. I spent it constantly looking for hockey-related updates anywhere I could find them. And, of course, porn.

For the owners, this deal is exactly what they’ve been looking for - a salary cap tied to revenue, different arbitration rules and a chance to buy out crappy contracts that messed up the prior CBA. Mr. Holik - pack your bags. This summer will be like the Wild, Wild west on ice and without spurs. There are only 228 players currently under contract in the whole league. That means whatever your favorite team looked like before, it is probably going to end up radically different. The Crosby draft will be July 30th, so any team could wind up with the phenom, for example. The larger question is: does anyone still care? All I hear is about is the NHL is dead, and no one will be back. I call “shenanigans”.

The NHL will relaunch itself this summer. There will be new rules (a proposed ejection for anyone instigating a fight in the last 5 minutes of a game being among them,) new logos, a ton of new marketing and some groveling fan invites to bring us - the long suffering NHL fan - back to the rink. If I may go all Arnie on you for a second - I’ll be back. I will be the first to sign up for the Center Ice Package and the first in line for Opening Night tickets. So, come along for the ride with me. Check in at Goonblog starting July 31st for the latest enforcer happenings, and some general mucking it up in the corners. The NHL! It’s a whole new game.

Thanks for the contribution, Chris. Stay tuned, hockey fans - we drop the gloves July 31st.

Here’s a very timely photo I just got from my old friend Heather. I went to CCHS with her here in MA, but she has Canadian relatives with an insane island-bound cottage North of Sudbury Ontario you can only get to by boat. You can’t get much further North and probably shouldn’t unless you’re mining nickel. I figured I’d share, as it’s a nice, idealistic reflection on how I wish relations between the USA and Canada actually stood.

The Maple Leaf and Old Glory, proudly overlooking a sunset… and some sort of wounded woodland birdlet. Yanks and Canucks living together - mass hysteria. I wish the Liberal Moonbat segment of Canada, and the Right Wing Conservative faction of the USA, could be genetically melded into some semblance of a resonable and measured human being. If we need extra body parts for the effort, we’ll just use some Quebecers. And we also have a lot of very mouthy NHL players who could be put to better use right now. I dub thee effort “Hands Across The Great Lakes” and will remain steadfast in my resolve to not hold my breath for a second until things change.