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Crazy Mardi Gras Party Developments!


in

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!

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30 Tall Tales #6: Vermont Academy Tomfoolery.


in Reminiscent

The previous article on the Vermont Academy reunion really got me thinking about those strange days, and I realized that there are a wealth of stories which combined would make a great Tall Tale entry. Memories that grow dimmer and dimmer with each passing year – and it’s been 13 already – so with no further adue…

I was 17 years old, fresh after graduating from public high school – only to be dropped right back in to do my senior year all over again. This time with the added bonus of getting used to living away from home for the very first time. It was called a post-graduate year and was a way for me to trade my time on the VA football field for a partial scholarship and the opportunity to get my grades up (way up) in order to get into a better college. It was also called ‘what I had to do in order to avoid spork vivisection by my father’ and, in spite of the remote location, strict rules and rigid schedule – was still a very favorable alternative. Don’t let the Baby New Year photos fool you.

The number of people I still keep in touch with whom I met during that one short year is testament to how formative it was. Every single one of the PGs were stuffed onto the same floor, and we were all former public school party-monkeys flailing to adapt to our new life in the gulag. Up at 6… 8 hours of class… 3 hours of sports… 3 hours of study time… bed. Each and every single day – including Saturdays. We could be expelled for smoking, dipping, drinking or fighting – usually with just one strike. As most of us excelled in all of the above, it took a lot of getting used to and all we had for amusement was eachother. There were many friends made and many, many mischievious evenings born of our collective boredom. Idle hands… the devil… you see where this is headed.

I could seriously write a book about my time at VA but for our purposes here I’ll just touch on a few of the more memorable moments. And it will be hard to pick and choose. To really do this justice, I’ll add one or two stories a day for the rest of the week. I may add new unrelated articles on top, but will keep updating this one – so check back if you dare. I mean ‘care’.

Lessons in Leaners
Many of our more creative moments stemmed from the fact that we could get kicked out of the school for so much as belching at an inopportune moment. If, God forbid, revenge needed to be meted out on some disrespectful 4 year student it had to be done very anonymously. There were three particularly memorable reprisals that I want to share. The first involves my least favorite floormate, Eric. Eric liked make a lot of noise and keep me awake at night. A skinny little soccer player, he also liked to flaunt the fact that I could do absolutely nothing about it should I want to remain enrolled in school and out of juvenile detention.

The dining hall served Chicken Cordon Bleu about once a week, or ‘exploding chicken’ as we affectionately called it. When you sliced into the breast, which was stuffed with cheese and ham, a hades-hot stream of molten provolone would shoot out and burn the back of your hand (or worse). But I didn’t plan on burning Eric – No, rather I recognized the true reprisal potential of poultry. I ate half of my portion and then stuffed the remainder in a napkin before returning to Slum 3.

Eric was a soccer player and had a very expensive pair of cleats that he was quite proud of. Soccer season had yet to begin, and I knew that said cleats sat unused and out of mind in his closet. We weren’t allowed to have locks on our doors (leading to many thefts by the extremely dodgy and maladjusted 4 year students leading in turn to many of the described revenge tactics) so I waited until Eric went to the bathroom before striking. I kneeled down inside his closet and quickly jammed handfuls of chicken up inside the toes of both his beloved soccer shoes. I returned to the empty hallway and went back to my room – the perfect crime.

A few days later, Eric and his roomate were sleeping in friend’s rooms, as the vile stench of rotting chicken had driven them out – despite their best attempts at locating the source. About 5 days went by before a janitor thought to examine the shoes. Suspecting ‘foul’ play we all got a good talking to from our dorm parent Mr. Shapiro, who knew full well that Eric’s frequent annoying behavior had left him with the equivalent of a bullseye painted on his back as far as the PGs were concerned. The event, like the stench, blew over fairly quickly after that and Eric started keeping to his end of the hall after lights out.

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Vermont Academy Reunion In Brookline.


in Heartwarming

Back in October, Wardy organized a Vermony Academt reunion at a Vietnamese restaurant in Brookline. I’ll update this entry with more details after I talk to him as I can’t remember what the place was called. It was multi-year, so classes from 1992 all the way back to 1942 were represented. I met a lot of great people whose names I really wish I could remember now. If it weren’t for these photos that I just found on a CD while cleaning my room, I’d continue to think it was all a dream stemming from bad pork.

First we have myself and the illustrious Billy Kelleher, who lived across the hall from me on the 3rd floor of Alumni Hall – or Slum 3 as it was affectionately known – in 1991-1992. Billy and I were both ‘ringers’ brought in as post graduates on scholarships to play sports. Billy’s hockey talents far exceeded my fruity meanderings on the football field, and he went on to captain the Dartmouth team for several seasons. He currently lives near me in the North End, and we get silly a few times a year.

That’s Doug Rumsey on my right, another former Slum 3 boy. Doug is a successful model whom you’ve probably seen in AT&T Wireless and Gap ads. And lookie here! A quick web search reveals that he is also a Vermont Stud, which I will be sure to tease him endlessly for the very next time I see him.

Q: Since you said you weren’t shy, where’s the strangest place you’ve had sex?
A: Wow, that’s very personal, so how about I tell you about a kiss? I kissed someone underneath a waterfall in the Virgin Islands. There’s just something about the ocean and the water.

Oh my God you’re so busted, Rumsey.

The headmaster, Jim Mooney, asked me if I’d like to visit VA sometime soon and do a Q&A with the students about what I do for a living. It would take place at one of the morning meetings where I’d stand on stage in front of the entire school like I did several times 13 years ago. The faculty would want me to talk about online advertising. But all I’d want to tell the kids about is the silly shenanigans we got up to when I was a student there. I’d like to do it eventually, but first there are several statute of limitation laws I’m going to have to look into.

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Going Sledding? Try Using A Hill. And A Sled.


in

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.

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Way Too Excited For Fish.


in

Nick finished moving in yesterday, and the fishtank has officially arrived! I am far more excited about this than anyone should be, and I have to assume I’ve become a bit too complacent and easy to please. Next I’ll be writing about my undying devotion to 2000 Flushes toilet pucks. Regardless, we’re setting it up today so the tank has all week to get itself up to speed. Apparently you’re supposed to leave it for a week before adding fish or something. Nick’s the one who read the fish book, not me. Of course Nick is also the one who killed all his existing fish during the move, so it might be time for me to lead an investigation into our new marine life’s habitat like Richard Dreyfuss. I’ve already talked him out of dropping in a toilet puck.

I thought as sort of a fun little Monday exercise you all could give me a few tips, pointers, fish breed suggestions, name ideas, etc. And please don’t say ‘Nemo’ or ‘Jaws’. I’m currently planning on naming all of the fish after famous drowning victims. We’ll definitely have Jeff Buckley the Guppie, Natalie Wood the Fantail and Mary Jo Kopechne the Bubble Eye. When the tank is set up and populated, I’ll add some photos here. I’m thinking me, with my shirt off, covered in peanut oil.

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Blogger Gets Their Shit Together.


in Pye in the Face

Blogger has finally developed a better way for people to post comments – and in doing so has rendered the hack I installed last month for the same purpose completely inoperable. I’ll have to make some changes to my template code over the weekend to get comment functionality back up and running, but it’s good to see they’ve finally started developing the application again. Here’s hoping category tags are right around the corner!

In the meantime, keep your silly thoughts to yourself. Or save up a bunch of them and just ejaculate all over the site Monday morning. Actually, on second thought don’t do anything remotely akin to ejaculating anywhere near me. Thank you.

UPDATE: All fixed! Comment away! (That means you, P-Cips. And yes, you’re a geek.)

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Trailer Park Baby New Year.


in Heartwarming

My father sent me these photos a couple of weeks ago. I chuckled, shook my head and then vowed I’d never show them to a soul – for fear that such strange nuances of my ancestral lineage may one day exclude me from public office. Now that I think about it though, I’ve pretty much ensured as much all by my lonesome. Still, I figured I’d keep the snaps to myself for fear of embarassing the old man in public. You can see why for yourselves…

The photos were entitled “babynewyear.jpg” so I can only assume the stories I’ve heard about my Dad being the Trailer Park’s resident Foster Brooks are true. Gordo is basically the wind-up entertainment for this portable Floridian community. Kudos to him for enjoying his retirement, however disturbing it may be to the rest of his kin. He makes a superb baby new year, and it looks as though there was at least one costume change involved as well.

But then I got word that he had actually been checking the blog on a regular basis, and was miffed that he had yet to be featured! The old man reads my site? Jesus, that changes everything. Actually, we’re talking about Gord here. I don’t need to change a thing. And since we’re on the topic, I’ll share my favorite exchange with him from last summer:

“Hey Dad – I didn’t know you liked Mike’s Hard Lemonade.”
“Well, actually I enjoy a nice bottle of it every night while I watch the sunset.”
“You know what it is, right?”
“What?”
“Malt liquor for chicks.”
“Fuck off.”

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Please Excuse My Pubes.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: What do you want for Valentine’s Day?
Receiving something on Valentine’s Day means that you have a significant other. Which I do not. Nor am I particularly shopping around at the moment. Sorry ladies, but you’ll have to get your daily dose of indifference elsewhere. I can, however, always count on a Valentine’s card from my Mother. I believe she may be trying to creep me out enough so I’ll get married. It’s working.

Soup: If you could change the color of something you own, what would it be?
I’d love to change my white leather couches back to white again. They’re comfortable and I love them, but they’ve been through the wars. Many scuffs, stains and general wear and tear have left them looking like giant eclairs covered in ants. Like gym socks stuffed with tennis balls and then rolled in jimmies. Like rolls of toilet paper stamped on by boots covered in nutella. Like a single section of a pan flute, increased 300 times by some sort of raygun and then hacked at with a shovel. You know what I’m talking about.

Salad: What’s your favorite day of the week and why?
Friday – hands down. Around 3 p.m. I get the angel and devil duking it out on opposite shoulders. The angel knows that if I go straight home after work and behave, the weekend will be productive and relatively inexpensive. The devil likes to remind me that although I’ll wind up broke, sleep all day and possibly wet myself – I’ll have a damn good time doing it. I recently paid for the angel to attend debate classes, and it’s the best money I ever spent. You’ll find me tonight, for example, playing video games or watching Tivo’d episodes of CSI. That sounds pretty pathetic to the casual observer, but believe me – I’ve lived a wonderful, wild life thus far and I’ve decided to start picking my battles more carefully. So be sure to come see me next weekend when the angel will be away visiting relatives in the outfield.

Main Course: What excuse do you use most often?
My father was always after me about the importance of not making lame justifications for things. Some of my friends still impersonate him by saying: “You know what those are David? Those are excuses!” He was relentless, and to this day I know intrinsically when I myself am about to make one, and the lame excuses of others stick out like sore thumbs and drive me mad. “I’m tired”. “I’ve been really busy”. And then there’s the catch-all that the British use: “I can’t be asked”. I can honestly say that a make a bare minimum of excuses for myself, and I certainly don’t have one that I use most often. Except that particularly effective one involving pubic lice.

Dessert: Name something or someone you feel sorry for.
I hate to patronize people, as I’m no bargain myself. I guess the easiest answer would be victims of the recent Tsunami in Asia. They never stood a chance, they never saw it coming and they certainly didn’t deserve it. That was some biblical shit, man. Oh, and Jan Michael Vincent.

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Quite Possibly The Greatest Quote Ever.


in

Pound for pound, Winston Churchill can lay claim to the best collection of soundbytes in human history. But here’s a little gem I’ve had hanging over my desk for the better part of a month. It really tugged at my regret-strings when I accidentally read it while perusing Rob Riggle‘s website (he’s my favorite new SNL castmember who also happens to be a decorated Marine,) and I wanted to share it with you. Translation: another busy day here at work with little time for blogduggery.

“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan, ‘Press on,’ has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race”

– Calvin Coolidge

I really do read this every morning before sifting through 172 emails whilst murdering a sweet cheese croissant. That actually sounds like a boxer’s nickname. “No one reminds me more of a young Joe Louis than relative newcomer, Sweet Cheese Johnson”. Anyway, I hope you got something out of it. More toilet humor/less quotes from dead Presidents tomorrow. Promise. “Sweet Cheese! Hit him where it hurts!”

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Why, It’s Silly Kitty Photo Day!


in

There’s a small percentage of my readership who appreciates gratuitous animal photos. They’re also probably the same segment who enjoyed all the baby photos from last week and are also chicks. Since I’m too busy today to write anything noteworthy, and as a sort of antidote to all of the breast jokes from the Mardi Gras Party piece, I give you Silly Kitty Photo Day! And probably a violent bout of nausea.

First, I offer up photographic evidence to support the popular conspiracy theory that James Earl Ray did not act alone. I’m also simultaneously supporting the probability of me getting stabbed to death behind a liquor store in Mattapan.

And finally a police photo documenting the sad reality of the Iams/Purina cocktail – or ‘speedball’ as it’s known around the scratching post. The real tragedy is, this victim was only 4 weeks old! Awareness begins at home beside the litterbox.

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Mardi Mardi – We Likes To Party… Gras.


in Heartwarming

It’s been 3 months since the Halloween bender, and I’m gettin’ all itchy for another par-tay. I don’t think it’s a personal hygiene issue. But rather a desire to rage against the dying of my New Years resolutions. Actually rage towards would be a more accurate description. Join me, won’t you?

Unless you suffered a head injury in a snowmobiling accident over the weekend, you’ve probably surmised that it’s a Mardi Gras theme. Just what does that entail? Glad you asked. We’re going to have Eric the DJ spinning until 2, the Corona girls wandering around encouraging debauchery, some door prizes courtesy of a local radio station, a specially themed drink menu and as always there is absolutely no cover! I should also probably mention that it’s Saturday, February 19th at Tiernans.



                Titties ‘Till Fat Tuesday – Get those beads ready, boys.

So bring your beads, Girls Gone Wild camera crews, silly hats, disturbing masks and all the other trappings of a proper Mardi Gras celebration. I get ribbed a lot because I plan for parties way in advance. Well this time around you’ve got a little under two weeks. Get a babysitter, a designated driver, a tetanus shot – whatever you need to get yourselves down to Tiernans for the festivities. You won’t be sorry.

I’d love to see anyone who’s interested at the bender in question, and you can click here for more details. Feel free to add yourself and your friends to the Evite. Come one, come all. Unless of course I owe you money or have at any point impregnated you.

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Patriots and Cheeky Monkeys.


in

I’m happy to report that I managed not to set fire to myself for the remainder of the weekend. I spent most of yesterday working on this boston hairstylist site, and then Monster and I went out to Concord for Jim’s super-duper-bowl-party. About 20 of us ate, drank and were very merry as the Pats secured their… actually I refuse to say the ‘D’ word anymore. People will think I’m one of the Mings or something. Jim’s corn/chili chowder was the other highlight of the evening, as was seeing Jodice’s daughter Nicole – who is the most adorable little munchkin I know. Maybe next time though we’ll find a game to play other than ‘spit in Dave’s face after eating 3 oatmeal raisin cookies’.

Far be it from me to pass along silly internet videos, but this is one Colin sent me that you have got to see. The premise is this: extremely dexterous monkey torments three young tigers in the jungle. They bumblingly try to catch him as he swings down from the trees, pulls their tails and tweaks their ears and noses. The funny thing is, the monkey serves no purposes by risking his life in this manner. He’s just messing with the youngsters. A truly mischievous and cheeky little bastard. Check it out.

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I’m The Firestarter.


in

Life is good this week. My old roomate is out and a new one is on the way in. Everything is back the way I like it, and my pad is once again it’s clean, spartan old self – sans mounds of useless curio crap that left with its owner. I’ve been painting, sweeping, mopping, consolodating, dusting and this place just looks amazing if I do say so myself.

That is until I just set fire to it.

I’m hiding in my room right now as the nasty burnt nylon/goosedown smoke clears. I had a candle near my new $160 jacket which apparently burst into flames simply due to the heat. I was downstairs loading what crap the old roomie didn’t take into the basement when I heard the fire alarm go off. I rushed upstairs to find the entire coat ablaze. A few good puffs from yours truly and it was all over, but my newly restored sanctum has been putrified.

The funny thing is, I heard that Thursday night the old roomate’s new bedroom caught on fire too. Has anyone seen Drew Barrymore walking around the North End?

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Double Secret Probation. And Death.


in Movies

John Vernon, one of the most consistently effective onscreen villains of all time – best known as Animal House’s Dean Wormer – died Tuesday at the age of 72. Born in Zehner, Saskatchewan, Vernon played baddies opposite legends like Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood. He then spent his twilight years doing voiceovers for popular cartoons and video games, working right up until the time he cashed in his chips.

One of his last appearences was for 2003’s DVD release of Animal House, where he participated in a ‘where are they now?’ segment in character as Wormer. I’ve seen it and it’s hilarious. Also funny is that I just watched this movie just last weekend whilst playing ‘Asshole’ with Seamus and Meredith. I laughed for 2 minutes at the quote below, until remembering I was 31 years old and drinking heavily at 3 in the afternoon.



“Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son.”



Then I kept right at it. What would Blutowski have done? Oh yeah – dead at 33. Forget I brought it up.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: The Purple Pyeman.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: If you were a dog, what breed would you be, and why?

My breed would be irrelevant as I’d be constantly holed up under a porch licking myself.

Soup: What does the color purple make you think of?

A crosseyed Oprah Winfrey. A people-eater. Some guy who lived on Porcupine Peak and continuously tried to diddle Strawberry Shortcake. The L.A. Kings. Bondage videos involving testicles and shoelaces.

Salad: Approximately how long does it take you to get ready each morning?

That depends on how many people I have to drive back to the high school.

Main Course: How many cousins do you have, and are you close to them?

I have 7 first cousins and 4 second cousins. My mother was an only child so I suppose that’s resulted in less than most. But when you’re trying to buy their love at Christmas because you only see them once a year – less is a good thing.

Dessert: Take your initials (first, middle, last) and come up with something else those letters could stand for. (Example: SFO = Sweet Funny Otter)

I wish my initials were S.G. and that I had never been given a middle name so that my answer could be Silly Goose! But since that’s not the case: Don Johnson’s Penis. Come on, you were all thinking it.

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