Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor
Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.
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.
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.
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.
Two Mondays ago Tiernans had it’s annual staff appreciation party and Monster and myself were asked to join in on the festivities. That is to say, I was asked and Monster was allowed to come so long as I was with him to babysit. Any of you who were at my last Cinco De Mayo party know exactly from whence this probationary period stems. You guessed it – extreme violence.
Pistol Pete Massa was there playing the guitar and singing, and towards the end of the night encouraged some of us to get up and try our hands. That was all the motivating Monster needed, and he quickly ran up on stage to treat us all to an unprecedented 3-song-set!
With a tear in my eye, and just a bit of preliminary vomit in my throat, I watched transfixed as Monster gave us one for the ages. The breathtaking trainwreck included the Gambler, Southern Cross and quite possibly the most dreadful rendition of Country Roads in human history. Bravo, buddy. That was truly some funny shit.
So – like I said before, eh? – we’re hanging out at the friggin’ Apartment 58 nightclub right over Frank & Stein’s in Guelph and Gooch disappears into the bathroom. Which he’s been known to do. Holy fuck. Anyways, Gooch comes out of the bathroom like friggin’ 9-O and starts talkin abooot some new fangled christmas drink or something. So he goes “lemme through to the bar, eh?” and we stand back while he orders 7 kife Candy Cane Martinis. Fuck right off, eh? And… scene.
After I drank the thing and resisted the strange urge I suddenly had to slap a cock against my forehead, we all agreed that they were quite tasty. And you thought you had to be German, homeless or both to enjoy the mentholated madness of peppermint schnapps.
That’s it. That’s the story. I thought these photos which Art sent me today were funny and needed an excuse to fire them up. Not all my tales will be winners, folks. Possibly even somewhere less than half. But I keep them coming, and nobody’s got a gun to your head.
I built DougAndDoug.com for my friend Doug Triconi and his comedy partner Doug Krintzman a year or so ago, and it’s about to have a bunch of new content added to it. The duo has been trying to break into the bigtime for years now – producing their own videos and performing live stand up routines in Los Angeles on a regular basis.
Have a look at the hilarious short films The Search For 5 (the boys set out on an action filled quest for a missing porno tape) and Small Town Antics (Triconi is torn between robbing a house or making a sandwich) in Quicktime on their site right now, and stay tuned for their latest odyssey in the coming weeks. You can say you “saw them here first”. Alternately, you may wish to say “What is this awful hack shit?” You be the judge. I think it’s brilliant stuff.
Actually, I never really set foot in Toronto over the holidays. I just like the song. OK – I did pee on the side of a KFC off Dundas St. while my sister asked for directions inside. So technically, I set foot and also set a little urine if we’re splitting pubic hairs. But I did hang in Burlington, Guelph, Grimsby and Hamilton for extended periods of time, and took a few photos along the way.
Janet and I coughed our way up to Kingston on the Wednesday making the trip in about 7 hours which isn’t bad. But it turns out we didn’t need to pick up my mother’s car as we’d originally thought, so we could have gone Northwest through New York State – straight to Toronto – and saved ourselves a lot of time. So that kinda blew. Coupled with the blizzard that descended for the final 4 hours of the eventual 12 hour trip, it definitely blew. Goats.
The photo of Gooch and Art on the left was taken at the Albion in downtown Guelph. I recognized a guy I lived in residence with ten years ago, and also a T.A. that I’d had for a short-lived psychology course. It was very cool to return to the Royal City after such a long hiatus and recognize people I knew – but that was just the tip of the iceberg. On the right we see Jim, Art, Gooch, Myself and Lynn. This photo was taken at Frank & Stein’s where I eventually ran into another Mills boy and Tonizzo who used to work for me at the Bullring. I hadn’t seen him since the final night of exams in 1998 so that was a tsunami from the past. Don’t cringe – I’m topical.
Christmas day I posed proudly in my new jumper with Beatrix the cat. ‘The Bix’ is Janet’s roomate’s and we had to bring her with us because she’s still young and not very well behaved. Kinda like Janet’s roomate. Bix was fun to have in the car though – her fur improved windsheild visibility much faster than the defrost button. From there it was on to Uncle Richard’s for the annual Pye gathering – and as usual it did not disappoint. Most kids are bummed when they get clothes for XMas, but Seth found his robe a whole lot more interesting when I told him it made him look like Muhammad Ali and then taught him a few pugilistic poses. Then I slap-boxed the shit out of him because he’s only 8 and I knew I stood a good chance.
Kathy’s father, my father and Thomas’ father are brothers. Kathy’s father spent Christmas in Cuba with his new woman, Thomas’ father spent Christmas with us in Grimsby and my father spent Christmas alone in a Trailer in Florida. Well, he wasn’t completely alone. He had a cat and a deep-fried turkey there with him. Gordo, if you read this, you’re coming up next year. Stop being a… turkey. And finally Beatrix meets Gooseberry for the first of many violent, fur-flying encounters. Which was healthy because it kept Goose from attacking my Grandmother for 5 days. Pet/owner Love-hate relationship there. Basically, the cat loves to scratch the Christ out of her at every given opportunity. It’s adorable.
Right. So happy 2005, everyone. My New Years Eve was nothing special so I’ll spare you the details. Thank God the holidays are over for another year. I think I’d find medieval torture less stressful.
I’d like to say it was the presence of my close friends at Joe V’s in the South End. Or the fact that Bobby didn’t show up. But in actuality, it was the SCTV box set. Thanks due to Janet and Adam. Count Floyd be praised.
And another fervent thanks to Katie, who constructed the cake. It had mapley icing, half eaten donuts and Bob & Doug McKenzie on the top. Perfection. Also, Kate and Emily came strapped with a hilarious ‘camel-toe’ themed card and a book I’ve been wanting to read. Nice one.
Have a peek above – Emily looks on in sheer horror as Peter busts out his Hellboy. His horns were courtesy of the parmesan cheese and hot pepper dishes. I sincerely hope they washed those. Sincerely.
When I got home, I found my bedroom adorned with balloons and streamers, courtesy of Betsy and Mardi. So thanks again, one and all, for my SCTV themed birthday. I had an amazing time and was only 3 hours late for work today.
I haven’t worked out the details yet, but there will be a New Years Eve party at the Sidebar. I’m going to keep the cover as cheap as possible. None of this $80 a head bullshit. There will be a DJ, champagne and attire will be casual. If you’re looking for a ridiculously fun and low maintenance NYE solution – save the date. I’ll put an Evite together when I’ve settled on the particulars.
Everybody’s good at something. I’ve always had a knack for throwing good parties. Whereas New Year’s Eve has always excelled at sucking. I’m tired of stuffy black-tie events that usually involve more effort than a wedding and are always a lot less fun. I’m tired of slapdash, mediocre house-parties that are thrown together at the last minute because nobody has anything remotely better to do. I’m tired of never having anything good to look forward to when the ball drops – save for yet another ferocious and expensive hangover. So I’m about ready to throw my hat into the ring and organize an NYE party at The SideBar. I also just used the word ‘slapdash’.
But I’m not going to stick my neck out if nobody cares. I want to get a feel for public opinion on this proposed bender before I spend a month and a half working on it. So here’s the deal – I promise it will be fun, and I promise the price will be right. There will be a DJ, food, champagne and I’ll do my damndest to fill the place with lots of people you know. You’ll be able to invite your friends, and we’ll keep the party going until 2 a.m. It’s a convenient downtown location, and it’s right near the ‘T’. And no, I’m not making any money off of this. Chime in below.
I’ve gotten more photos, and more requests for me to post said photos and finally another mild case of writer’s block. So let’s just marry all these unfortunate circumstances into today’s article. Please bear in mind (and I hate to make excuses) that were this a political or sports related blog, I’d have no end of material you can find absolutely everywhere else. No, kids – I try and actually come up with the sort of stuff I myself would like to read everyday. Always funny, rarely narcissistic, never poignant.
Back when I focused all my efforts on my galleries, it was a lot easier to keep everybody happy – I could stuff sixty or more photos onto one page. But those old things took hours to prepare and write. I’d rather do something daily as opposed to once every four or five months. So here’s another staggered batch of Halloween party photos. First off – I had to eventually include one of myself as Julian from Trailer Park Boys. And here’s another photo of Annaleise which, in spite of Venditti, should score high in the ratings.
A picture is worth a thousand words, two failed hand-job attempts and seventeen dutch-ovens.
Although the whole evening is a little foggy, everyone I spoke with told me that the party was more fun than a bag of wild squirrels. So what’s up with the party animal there on the upper-left? I also have it on good faith that this photo was actually taken before the bash even started. Obviously, that girl never got tea-bagged in college. Then on the right we have the illustrious Gooch – who apparently attended the party as an ex-Mills man who now works for Sleeman. Uncanny, my good sir.
If you’ll allow me to get all Ansel Adams for a moment, here are two entries from our black and white contingency. First, Bryan and Betsy experiment with a position from Michael Hutchence’s Joy Of Sex. While Wicked Mardi and her biatches are just a little too cool for costumes on the right. But then who wasn’t at that tender age? I just wish she’d stop calling me “Uncle Dave”, is all.
Pyeman73: So I’m at the Tap.
Anonymous (my sister): right now?
Pyeman73: No. It’s 11:30 in the morning. I was at the Tap.
Pyeman73: Bryan’s bartender buddy was feeeding us beers.
Anonymous: yick
Pyeman73: Bryan gets up to go to the bathroom. I catch this guy’s eye who was like 10 feet away.
Pyeman73: Scummy black guy. About 25.
Pyeman73: Comes over. ‘What are you looking at me fo’?
Pyeman73: ‘Is you gay?’
Pyeman73: And these two white chicks he’s with are sneering at me like backup dancers.
Pyeman73: So I put down my beer and go: ‘Buddy – are you looking for a fucking problem?’
Pyeman73: And the chicks go pale and drag him out of the bar.
Pyeman73: Do I look like a sissy or something?
Anonymous: you are 30 and hanging out at the tap
Anonymous: you deserved it.
Fair enough.
Festivity photos keep rolling in like severed heads. So take a break from CNN’s election coverage – and wondering how you might look in a turban – to dig these latest shots from that oh so ridiculous evening.
First up we have beauty and the beast. Anneliese and Bryan square off for the best costume credential and both score big points for different reasons. Bryan looks exactly like the character he’s portraying: Ricky from Trailer Park Boys. Huge credit goes to Betsy who dyed and styled his hair. Whereas Anneliese looks exactly like what every man in attendance wanted to take home and rub peanut oil all over. Like I said – both winners in their own way.
And here’s another interesting paradox. People of Herb‘s distinguished ethnic background make unlikely Klansmen. And as for Adam – people who look so comfortable in hot gay biker attire are unlikely to finish the evening beating the living ladybugs out of some clown in my living room. Never judge a book by its leather chaps.
Nicole and Paris turned heads as their alter egos Brittany and Becky licked the frick out of anything with a pule. These two lovely lasses are big Boston bar fans, and it was good to have some regulars representin’ at The Haunt. It was also good not having to worry about anyone blaming me for stealing wallets.
OK – back to all the fair and balanced election coverage. Be sure to look for more party photos as the week progresses. And a certain Fendi purse.
I work with a young Indian lad named Nakul. He’s become a great friend and I like to get him and his wife out of the house whenever possible, as they’re new to Boston. He took a bunch of photos at the Haunt Saturday, one of which I’m posting here. He just told me this was the first hard alcoholic beverage that he’d ever had in his life. I am now officially a corrupter.
When I worked with a large group of Indian programmers 4 years ago, we used to take them out all the time and had great fun together. And I know they were very thankful to have a local who tried to include them in his debauchery. But now I’m a little torn. I feel like I’ve just ridden into an Apache village circa 1682 with a pony keg of Schlitz before trading it for Manhattan.
Actually look at him. Hard hooch and big old fake angry titties. He looks as happy as a lark, and I guess I should lighten up. So welcome to the liquor, Nakul. It’s a fickle friend.
The Haunt went off without a hitch. Mostly. There was a loud late night ass kicking in the North End and many subsequently pissed off neighbors, but we squashed it sufficiently and everything’s cool now. And I feel much better about it knowing that the guy fully deserved to get trounced like you read about. I’m not going to get into it here. Let’s just say – don’t hit on a gay biker’s girlfriend.
Then there was Dave, the kissing bandit, mercilessly terrorizing the female population of the bar. Look, let me offer you all some advice: if you’re going to have a party, and put lots of effort into organizing it, make sure you’re actually going to be able to remember it the next day. I am forced to cut myself some slack, however, due to the fact we all started drinking beer right after the parade we missed because Venditti wanted immediate breakfast. Sox parade + Halloween Party + 8 visiting Canadian University buddies = FUCKING MAYHEM. That was, bar none, the worst hangover I have ever had, and a friendly reminder of why I stopped drinking.
So here’s where you can help me out, dear readers and party attendees. Send me your photos. I want to get a big whack of them together and post the best ones here. I am getting rave reviews for the party so far so I’d really like to get a sense of what it was like to be there. Even though I was. I also want lots of photos for the SideBar website that I’m currently building. Send me any anecdotes you have too and I’ll tie all of the material into a funny article you can enjoy with family and friends for generations to come.
Thank you all for coming, and I’m glad everyone had such a great time.
