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Note To Self: Frig Off.


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I’ve been like that little Dutch boy with his finger stuck in the dyke for the last couple of weeks. Yeah, yeah – so you’ve heard. I’ve done it to death. We get it, Pye. You’re busy at work. We know. I’ll bet you didn’t know that I’ve been coming up with some interesting methods of keeping organized as a result. I bet you also didn’t know that she gave me a ride on her Harley after the Indigo Girls concert.

I’ve tried Outlook tasks and meeting reminders. I’ve tried BaseCamp. I spent an hour on the phone getting a Salesforce plugin demo. I read Covey. I started getting to work earlier and staying later. I began delegating things I wouldn’t have dreamt of letting someone else do a month go. And then do you know what I did?

I went to CVS and bought a little maroon notebook. And now everything is fine.

People are wired differently, and I suppose when you’re in the eye of the storm you really learn a few things about yourself. What I’ve learned is that I benefit greatly from writing down every little thing I have to do over the course of a given week, because otherwise it may slide off the plate. And I mean everything. I’ve got potboilers like “haircut” and “cat litter” in there at the moment. We make my grandmother do that so she’ll remember to take her medication, so I’m not exactly over the moon about my new solution. Or not being able to steal my Grandmother’s medication anymore.

So if the next time you see me I’m jotting stuff down in a little notebook, and I tell it’s for impromptu Haiku, I’m lying. I’ve probably just reminded myself to flush the toilet.

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You Don’t Know From Busy.


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I have never experienced a blog lull of this magnitude in my 2+ years of writing. I hate the “I’ve been so busy” excuse with a passion. You know the one I mean. That annoying cop out that some people feel absolves them of any and all guilt, regardless of what they happen to be apologizing for. It’s just before “Whatever” in the short list of Manchurian Candidate-esque trigger words that will one day land me in jail for murdering someone with an air conditioner.

“Say, weren’t we supposed to get married last weekend?”
“Yeah, sorry I got really busy. So, did you see Grey’s Anatomy?”

I am not going to rattle off all the hectic stuff that’s going on. That would be about as interesting as Grey’s Anatomy. So please just empathize a little bit with your old pal Dave. I’ll wander back soon.

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September 11th. Recognize.


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I’d love to have a moment of silence today, as I usually do on September 11th, but I’ve already been deep in the middle of an entire week of silence, apparently. Life gets in the way but I shall return to the blogging fold, more prolfic than ever, this week.

In the mean time, please read this. And never forget it.

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Don’t Believe The Skype.


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Actually, believe it. Skype lets you make free calls in North America with just a plugin microphone for your PC or laptop. Vonage costs $30 a month. Again, Skype is less functional but free. You can even call people’s actual phones from your computer. One of the reasons I talk on the celly so little is that I hate holding the tiny things in my big monkey paws. Skype allows me to chat away for free while I’m hacking away on the idiot box as per normal. So I am attempting to adopt the technology and I encourage you to check it out too. If you become, or already are, a user – I can be reached at the username Pyeman73. What’s the matter, you can’t call nobody?

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Back To The Motherland.


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Not that I spend a lot of time blogging on the weekends due to conciousness issues, but the head’s up is I am off to Canada until Monday night. Building headaches have been driving me squirrelly as per usual, and although it’s poor timing being September 1st and all (as everyone moves in/out on this date) I am frigging off and becoming incommunicado for the next 72 hours.

You’ll be fine without me. I’m off to drink Canadians on my folks’ new pontoon boat. And drive 20 hours – so feel the sudden burst of jealousy quickly fade away. There’s a True Value down the street if you need lightbulbs. I don’t do lightbulbs.

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The Reluctant Matchmaker.


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Congratulations to my friends Emily and Nick who got engaged last night – and that brings me rocketing into a post I’ve been meaning to write for a while. I seem to have developed a knack for setting people up, or at least being a peripheral catalyst in them getting together.

Nick and Emily are both former roomates of mine. Meredith and Seamus, also a building related connection, are getting married in June. Neither of those introductions were facilitated for the purposes of dating, though. I am a non-deliberate matchmaker. You could sell me a hot dog in Faneuil Hall next weekend and then probably meet the woman of your dreams in line behind me. Granted she’d be slathering mustard all over a footlong and drooling after 3 shots of Jaeger at Ned Devine’s, but Cupid doesn’t worry about overserving.

We’re talking about marriages here, not dating, which is why I thought it worthy of note. I don’t like to introduce people, because I’ve seen it go so horribly wrong many times in the past. The worst is when someone sets you up with a complete ditch pig because you’re then forced to ask yourself why the mutual friend went so far out of their way to connect the two of you. Is this what they think your league is? “Not to be a dick, but your friend has ridges on her back and I think I see a tail poking through in the back. Either that, or she’s crapped herself“. And then you get a little offended/hurt/a condom.

So I stay away from it. But if you want to meet that someone special come hang out in my orbit for awhile. I seem to have some sort of accidedntal magic power. And obviously the other major dating bulletpoint to take away from this is don’t crap yourself in line at the hot dog stand outside of Ned Devine’s.

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Can You Watch My Dog For A Second?


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I am pleased to announce that I now have my own Watchdog Blog. For those of you scratching your head, here’s a definition:

“Watchdog journalism refers to forms of activist journalism aimed at holding accountable public personalities and institutions whose functions impact on the social and political life.”

So thanks very much, Jason. The world needs to stay current on how frequently I mention Eric Bana on PITF. We can sleep soundly now. I hope to see you at the lake this weekend.

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Wednesday Wadio: Porno For Pyros ‘New Rising Sun’.


in Wednesday Wadio

When I was living in Mills Hall at Guelph, back when it was still an all-male residence and absolute zoo, I had a videotape of the then fresh Woodstock 94 concert. This was my favorite clip, and I can’t count the number of times I watched it whilst polishing off 18 packs of Arctic Wolf with Nick Gordon and Steve Barry. Porno for Pyros was Perry Farrel’s dalliance in between Jane’s Addiction tours – and for the unfamiliar he’s the guy who perfoms the Entourage theme song (a 2002 Jane’s tune). So this is PFP at Woodstock 94 performing ‘New Rising Sun‘ which is a little known Jimmi Hendrix song, and it was an homage to the original concert.

Perry starts the song, the last in their set, by toasting the audience with a bottle of red wine which I’m sure was among several he had that day. A marked improvement from heroin, at any rate. I can’t believe this was 12 years ago now, and I hope you enjoy the dreamy way in which they cover this tune and completely hypnotize everyone in attendence. Again , not with heroin for a change. I remember looking obsessively for an audio recording of this for years afterwards, and now so many years on it’s as simple as pasting a code snippet.

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Empowered. Passionate. Dave.


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A fellow blogger makes a nice TPB related comment about some of my fruitless Squidoo work. Thanks, pal. Here’s a link right back at ya. But he’s right – I’m going nutty at the moment in antici… pation. Doyle has just suggested a Season 6 marathon at my place in the North End on September 9th. So who is in? Pepperoni, Bacardi, chicken fingers (the $8 kind), Jiffy Wine, pickle chips and slow-fried baloney sammiches will be served. Come help me horrify my new roomate.

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Dogs And Cats Living Together – Mass Hysteria!


in Movies

This is crazy-go-nuts week in the North End. As soon as St. Anthony’s Feast ends, people start moving into the neighborhood as their September leases begin. And with them come all kinds of service personnel with the accompanying trucks – movers, painters, cleaners, rug shampooers, handymen, etc. The blocks are like one big, mean Rubik’s Cube – Person A screams at person B to “move their fucking car”. Person B moves it 2 feet so person A can get by, then moves it back just as person C arrives and the process begins all over again. Remember, these streets were made for horses. And that’s just what they’ll do. One of these days these streets are going to horse all over you.

OK – something else that comes to mind. Remember in Ghostbusters 2 they find the pink slime that reacts to human emotion? It apparently decided to build up under New York City in an old subway line because of all the attitude and distress located in the Big Apple. Somebody open a manhole cover on Hanover Street, pronto. This is obviously why they all blew up last year – forget that natural gas leak theory. We’ve been blaming NStar when we should have been blaming frigging Vigo. We may be in serious trouble – I need only quote the 20th century poet, and fellow Boston native, Bobby Brown for a more romantic explication of the situation:

Too hot to handle, too cold to hold,
They’re called the Ghostbusters and they’re in control.
Had ’em throwin’ a party for a bunch of children,
While all the while the slime was under the building.
So they packed up their group, got a grip, came equipped,
Grabbed they proton packs off their back and they split.
Found about Vigo, the master of evil,
Try to battle my boys? That’s not legal.

Indeed, Robert. Indeed. Listen, if anyone sees Gozer trying to order a puttanesca at Il Panino Express, get me on the phone. My sister had drinks with Aykroyd once, and I think I may be able to get his number.

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What is Web 2.0?


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I really want to share some of these amazing new “Web 2.0” sites with y’all readers. If you’re uninitiated, Web 2.0 is defined as sites that “let people collaborate and share information online in a new way.” You’re all familiar with MySpace and YouTube – but they’re just the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg is large, and hidden mostly under the ocean of wet webiness or something.

This is the ultimate Web 2.0 site list in existence, and here is a great Web 2.0 ranking list by marketing guru Seth Godin. Some of the sites I’ve been enjoying are Squidoo, Digg and Del.icio.us of which I’m attemptimg to learn the benefits as they relate to search engine marketing, SEO and SMO. I’ve just bought a desk microphone so that I can begin playing with Skype, and Wikipedia is an incredible resource that you may have already come across. But again – large piece of dangerous ice just out of eyeshot.

If I had to pick one that’s been flying under the radar I think folks will want to check out, it’s Meebo. If your company has a firewall, or IM applications have been disabled by your network administrators, stick it to them with this “web based IM that lets you log into your IM networks from any computer with a browser and internet connection with no firewall issues. It employs technologies that make it act more like a desktop application, which dramatically improves usability.” Improves, usability – yet is shockingly detrimental to office productivity. Still, very neat.

The internet is still in its infancy, and it’s only going to get more interesting and fun. This really is a great time to be alive, and I hope you click through and check out some of the next wave in web functionality. Even if it’s just so I don’t look like as much of a toolshed.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Greek Demons and Scary Spice.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: If you could have a subscription to any magazine, which one?
I really like the British version of Loaded. It’s hilarious and extremely risquee. I used to buy them every month when I lived over there, and my favorite feature was called Porn-a-Likes. Readers would send in porn photos with ‘actors’ who resembled famous celebrities. Burt Reynolds was a frequent staple, as were various members of the Spice Girls. I think I once masturbated to a Scary Spice lookalike until I realized it was actually Terrence Trent D’Arby.

Soup: Describe your living room (furnishings, colors, etc.).
Filthy, yet large and extremely comfortable leather couches that used to be white. A tower of DVD shelves and the accompanying television and player. 2 PS2s and a big stack of games. Actually, this is a little silly. Click here if you’re really curious, and then immediately re-shuffle your life priorities.

Salad: What does the shape of a circle make you think of?
A flaming, stinking demon-infested vortex leading to the 12th sub-level of hell, donuts.

Main Course: Name 3 things in your life that you consider to be absolute necessities.
Food, water and shelter don’t count anymore? Alright… British television, Greek food and hockey. Strike what I said earlier about the re-shuffling. I’m obviously living in a glass Tudor mansion.

Dessert: What was the last really funny movie you watched?
Midnight Run was on a couple of weeks ago, and I watched it in its entirety even though it was edited-for-TV and I own the DVD. That’s a little strange. Regardless, it’s an under-appreciated classic which proved DeNiro had frightening comedy chops over a decade before Analyze This. Charles Grodin is also perfect as the mob witness Bobby is trying to take cross country. “Jack, you’re a grown man. You have control over your own words.” “You’re goddamn right I do, so here come 3 words for you – Shut the fuck up.”

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Wednesday Wadio: The Last Stand Of Shazeb Andleeb.


in Wednesday Wadio

“Being killed does not make someone Notable.” – Wikipedia

I saw this performance when it first aired in 1996 after the Cult of Ray came out. Frank Black and his annoying unwelcome twin, former MTV Matt Pinfield, chat mindlessly and strum respectively. I always wondered what this song was about, and dug this performance, so it seemed like opportunity knocking when I found it on YT. I also saw Frank live at the Beachcomber in Wellfleet Friday night, so all these factors collided into the first in a series of new and impwoved Wednesday Wadios – which will continue to ripple into the ether, like the opening chords of Hermaphroditos, week after week.

Shazeb was apparently an immigrant from Pakistan who moved to California with his parents around 1992. From the FrankBlack.net forum:

“Shazeb Andleeb, age 17, attended Narbonne High School in Harbor City, California, where he was kicked and beaten to death in the hallway on May 18, 1995. Renee Nieves and Christian Bremmer (Both 18) were two students who took part in the beating.” A forum member tried to make a Wiki about Shazeb, but it was deleted by the admins because being killed does not make you important. I can’t say I disagree with that, but I’m glad to have finally solved the mystery after 10 years. And, as Frank says in the video clip, Shazeb spoke 5 languages. That alone might just be worthy of a Wiki. So I hope the Wiki man lightens up in between games of Unreal Tournament.

Frank plays the guitar like Neil Young – crazy adept knowledge of the most obscure power chords with an almost mindless confidence behind them. He also loves to alternate between minor and major, and will frequently announce the change while he’s playing. I have seen him do this a few times live, and Friday was no exception. “OK, I’m gonna play you guys a song now that doesn’t depress you by ending in a minor“. I wanted to tell him I really didn’t mind. Not even remotely.

Speaking of remote, did I mention where we frigging were? Big surprises for me at the Comba were a version of Western Star which flowed seamlessly into the Pixies’ Where is my Mind? – but the real treat was getting to see an acoustic version of Massif Centrale, which has flown to the top of my favorites in the last couple of years. Screaming “That’s the sound… of your love behavior” with a Harpoon IPA in my hand and the completely inaudible sound of the waves licking the shore just outside was an experience I won’t soon forget.

Watch the clip and then have a look at the Frank Black at the Beachcomber (a pause for SEO) gallery. I desperately wanted to get a photo with him, and upon entering the bar I saw him to my left playing Sopranos pinball with some yunguns. I chickened out, but really didn’t want to be ‘that guy’. Anyhew, I’ll wrap this up lest I begin to sound like I’m lusting after Lance Bass or something. I tend to only write anonymously on the TigerBeat or Out forums when I do that.

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