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Friday’s Quizzlet: Unrelated Trainwrecks.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: Name one thing that made you sad this week.
Let’s just say, I’m likely funeral-bound tomorrow and we’ll leave it at that. Safe trip, Mr. H.

Soup: What was the last object (not person) you took a picture of?
Before we left Canada last weekend I took a photo of the deck stairs my father and I built together. It was nice working with the old man on something after so many years. I don’t think my parents realize how much having this house means to me. The fact that they’re already talking about how much they can sell it for was my first clue.

Salad: Who do you talk to when you need help in making a decision?
I try to make good, quick decisions and then stick to them. I loathe prolonged indecision and I try not be guilty of it myself. Another personality trait which was forged working in student bars. But a good one, as opposed to the penchant for drink and the encyclopedia-esque knowledge of hip-hop lyrics. One quick unrelated thing – watch this. And here’s another bunch of gallery additions.

Main Course: If you were a weather event, what would you be, and why?
I’d be a Willow Wisp. There was a strange cartoon I used to watch when I was a kid about this group of animals that lived in a forest. One of the characters was Willow the Wisp – and I eventually asked someone and figured out what the heck it was supposed to be. It’s like a bog gas pocket that burps up from the ground when it gets cold and many people throughout history have mistaken them for ghosts. And Michael Moore.

Dessert: Suggest a website that you think your readers would enjoy visiting.
I link to interesting sites all the time. As do all “bloggers” – so this may be the most redundant quizzlet question to date. Can’t you ask me more questions about movies, you silly little freak? Sigh… Let’s divert this question to the readers. This should be a trainwreck of inappropriacy if ever there was one.

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Axel Foley? Shiiit, Negro – That’s All You Had To Say!


in Movies

I was about to write another scathing, vagrant-slagging tirade after reading this awful article (so much for moving to the ‘Couv), but I’ve already done it to death. “We get it, Dave – you’re an anti-homeless crusader for the greater good“. Luckily something else triggered a sudden fit of movie fanboy nerdery and you’ve all been spared – for today, anyway.

Albeit from the Sun, this article claims that wunderkind Quentin Tarantino has been talking to Eddie Murphy about directing him in… wait for it… Beverly Hills Cop 4. Samuel L. can take over as the always-angry Chief Todd, and Travolta can enhance the old Paul Reiser role. Uma Thurman will cancel out any need for Brigitte Nielsen, and Rosewood and Taggart will have their revolvers replaced by Desert Eagles. Come on – it’ll be fun, motherfucka.

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Apathy Trumps Empathy Every Time.


in

As I cut across Boylston street this morning on my way to Park Plaza, I noticed a man making strange gestures and swearing to himself while staring at the ground. Had it still been this past weekend, I’d have just said “Good morning, Dad” – but alas, the old man is 350 miles away. So I knew I was about to cross paths with yet another of Boston’s lost souls.

He was weaving erratically back and forth across the sidewalk, scattering frightened oncoming pedestrians like a beaver barreling through bullrushes. I slowed my pace down to try and anticipate the best way to pass him without a cootie crossover, and as I focused my full attention on the man I realized three very alarming things. The first was that he was only wearing dirty socks on his feet. The second was that he was wearing blue hospital pants. The third was that we were less than a block away from the New England Medical center.

When I sat down at my desk a few minutes later, I looked at my telephone and thought about dialing 911 to report a possible escaped mental patient. But then I realized I was in the epicenter of the metropolitan liberal stronghold that is Boston, MA. And that he’d probably gotten $6 in change, a cup of soup and a handjob off an Emerson student by the time I’d reached my office door.

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Waste Not, Want Nautilus.


in Movies

Back in October, when I was in the throes of a self-imposed, month long sobriety experiment – I stayed in on a Saturday night and wrote a strange article about Disney’s old school 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea Ride. When I re-read it now, it’s quite funny and definitely the work of someone who is pining for a lost childhood memory. And definitely not used to being sober on a Saturday night. Regardless, I read this amazing article yesterday about a sub-wreck that’s been rediscovered off the coast of Panama:

“A British explorer has found an early submarine that he believes was the inspiration for Nautilus, Captain Nemo’s vessel in Jules Verne’s novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea.”

“She was built in 1864 by a visionary craftsman, Julius Kroehl, for the Union forces during the American Civil War. But the boat, called Explorer, was never used in the conflict and was subsequently taken to Panama where she was used to harvest pearls.”

A maritime museum in Canada had a record of the ship’s final resting place, and asked the explorer to check on it when they heard he was in the area. The Explorer was the first primitive sub to have a reversible airlock which allowed crew members to leave and then return to the ship whilst it was submerged. The museum had an 141 year old written report on the demise of the Explorer which detailed the abandonment of the ship and the simultaneous deaths of the entire crew… but it wasn’t from drowning!

“The submarine, which measures 36ft by 10ft, was lying in under 10ft of water off Isla San Telmo, an island in an archipelago known as The Pearl Islands, since being abandoned after three years in the pearl industry. Her crew all died from what was described then as a “fever”, but what was more likely to have been the bends after they regularly submerged to about 100ft to work.”

Read the full article if you’d like. It’s amazing how yesterday’s trash becomes an influencial, modern treasure. It’s also amazing how whomever I leant my 20,000 Leagues DVD to has not yet returned it. Still more amazing is the fact that I just admitted I forget who I leant it to, and thus will never see it again. May ye get the bends, ye scallywag!

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If You Go Down In The Woods Today.


in

Janet and I are headed up North to visit our parents tomorrow, and activity here will be sporradic/incomprehensible at best. I’ll save you the lame excuses about how busy I’ve been, what the blood test results were, my kidnapping by harbor pirates – and just say that as we approach the 1 year anniversary of Pye In The Face, I am enjoying it more than ever. I will return from the homeland with a huge new gallery of funny photos, plenty of new writing material and no doubt some sort of outhouse-induced skin infection. Bear with me during my Chappelle-esque wilderness sebbatical. And someone please remember to feed Boss.

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All That You Can’t Bring With You.


in Musical

Janet and I went to the U2 concert last night – and as usualy those wacky, socially concious, ultra-billionaire micks did not disappoint. I was a bit torn while getting ready for the show as to whether or not I should bring my camera. I live near the Flee… the Banknorth Garden, but it certainly would have been a drag to have to run home to ditch the camera had it been discovered. And it was muggy and rainy here in Boston last night, so a jacket to help the smuggling efforts would have been a bad idea. So, disappointed since I wanted some snaps for my new concert gallery, I decided not to risk it. Here’s Lego instead.

After Tibbets hooked Janet and I up with a few drinkie-poos, we ran across Causeway street through the pelting rain and ran inside the Garden (feels good to be able to say that again). The will-call area was all but closed and we could here the first strains of Vertigo blaring beyond. Luckily the guard let Janet head over to the booths on the condition that I stay by the entrance. There were tons of stragglers trying to get tickets.

When she got to the window, the will-call guy said “Pye! I’ve been waiting for you. You’re with the band!” Janet (her night officially ‘made’) blushed, grabbed the tickets and ran back over to me. We got the tickets from Adam Clayton’s girlfriend, afterall. It’s an interesting story. In a nutshell, Janet knows the girlfriend’s sister. After the equivalent of a cavity search (glad I left the camera at home,) we darted up a long, broken escalator and took our (very good) seats.

I won’t go into detail about the show – you can read that for yourself in a dozen places. What struck me though is that during the slow songs, the once prominent lighter had been replaced by cell phone lights. As “Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own” kicked in little blue, orange and pink LCD displays flickered on and illuminated the place. It was a very cool effect of which I was unversed. But then again I only go to shows of this scale when it’s U2, so why would I be? If you pulled out your cell phone and held it up like that in Avalon or the Orpheum, you’d probably get slapped in the back of the head for your efforts.

A great show, and I’m glad I finally had an excuse to spend a night at the Garden. With hockey off the menu this year, up until now it’d been a choice between basketball, Disney on Ice or Motley Crue. Only combined would the three fully substitute for the glaring lack of violent Canadian dirtbags on skates that I miss so very much. I’m not sure where all the cornrows and bling would fit in, though.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: At The Movies.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: What is the Total number of DVDs you own?
About 200. I could have many more if I borrowed and burned – but I like collecting the real deal – jewel box, cover art and all. The format will be around for a long time, so it’s a good investment which I enjoy hoarding.

Soup: What is the last film you bought?
Dog Day Afternoon. Pacino playing gay back when it was more likely to ruin your career than get you an Oscar. Of course, he also did Cruising shortly after. It was also one of only 5 movies that Johns Cazale (Fredo) made before he died of cancer. What a run the guy had though – if you’re only going to make a few movies in your lifetime, make sure The Godfather and Deer Hunter are on the list!

Main Course: What is the last film you watched?
I saw Revenge of the Sith last weekend, but wasted 3 hours downloading and watching Hostage Wednesday night. In retrospect, I should have my genitals held hostage in a tight, painful metal cuff of some sort as pennance.

Dessert: Name five films that mean something to you & why.
I have to get to work, but you can see full write-ups on all five on my old site by following these links: Rushmore – Goodfellas – Waiting for Guffman. Add Blade Runner, Raiders of the Lost Ark and Blazing Saddles to the list as well. If you need to ask why, it’s because you’ve never seen any of them. Have a great long weekend. I’ll be sleeping.

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A Face Only A Tourist Could Love.


in

They got me 3 times this morning during my merry jaunt to work. The first was at the end of Salem Street – “Hi, how do you get to Haymarket from here?” she asked. “Easy… follow me.” I’m not sure if she did, because I walk at a pretty fierce clip and her short little self likely had to break into a trot to keep up. I hope she didn’t scuff her walker in the process.

The second inquisitor got me as I was crossing Government Center Plaza. “Helloooo…” the bearded-wonder said in a strange, sing-songy voice. “Do you have the time?” I rolled up my sleeve “It’s 10 past 10.” I told him. “THANK you.” he said, and then looked at his female counterpart in such a satisfied kind of way that she must have tried to warn him not to approach me for fear of a beating or a bum rape or something. I refrained from asking him if was true Al-Zarqawi had been wounded, and if there was an address to which I could send a bouquet/Patriot missle battery. As I was late for work.

But she’d be the exception to the rule. Because every summer, as the tourists descend, I may as well have an “Information” sign strapped around my neck. As I’ve said before, I kind of enjoy it. Because the inquiring mind’s level of politeness dictates whether I send them to their intended destination, or whether I send them into the Combat Zone. It’s fun for so many reasons. Especially if they have small children with them.

“Excuse me sir, can you tell us if the information booth is around here somewhere?” two little old ladies asked me as I was walking through the common. And I was quickly reminded of another reason I probably shouldn’t be representing Boston in the face of tourism. “Yeah… see that little building with the turquoise trim? Between those fucking pine trees there?” Their eyes widened, and I actually felt bad. I swear profusely until I’ve had my first coffee.

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And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead.


in

I just took a gander at the 10-day weather forecast for my favorite zip code, 02116. They are predicting rain all 10 days. Why did I move back from London again? Walking home from work late last night, I was blown around Tremont street like a rag doll – normally I have to pay good money for that, and it happens on Washington Street. My Putnam umbrella acted as a parasail as I tried to find a comfortable medium between remaining dry and being pulled straight into the grill of a utility truck.

This morning, as I walked back to the mines, devastated umbrellas lay strewn about the city – everywhere. Like scattered corpses in the wake of a holy crusade. If that comparison sounds over-dramatic, that’s because it is. But I must have counted 20 dead little soldiers between the North End and Copley. So I want to share a little secret of mine with you, faithful reader.

I have a friend, let’s call her Yuki, who works for Putnam. About two years ago she overheard me complaining of an unfortunate umbrella-blowout I’d suffered on a particularly windy walk to work. She proceeded to tell me about the Putnam umbrella (not to be confused with an escrow company), which is so well made that when it’s plastic spines are blown inside out – it can be easily popped back into it’s original state. These buggers are rugged. Rugged buggers.

I now own two, both courtesy of Yuki, and I love them. They keep all of my broad bod bone dry, and can fend off the mightiest gusts Beantown can muster. I can’t stress this enough – make friends with a Putnam employee immediately. Use them, sexually or otherwise, to get an umbrella. But get an umbrella/handjob, you must.

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The Lovely, The Talented – Gallery Bertinelli.


in Pye in the Face

There are hundreds of pictures on my hard drive, spanning years, with more in production all of the time. Gallery creation is a time consuming and miserable process, so I’ve always been on the lookout for a solution – and I think I’ve found it. Back in the david.pye.com days I’d make the photo pages manually and write all of the captions at once which would take an eternity. So I abandoned it in favor of the blog format, much to many of your chagrins. Well I’m bringing it back so we can have the best of both worlds! Introducing the all singing, all dancing:

Pye In The Face – The Gallery!

It slices, it dices. You can vote for your favorite photos, leave comments, upload your own pictures, search and much more. I spent last night uploading and categorizing a ton of old photos from past Thanksgivings, concerts and parties. There will be more on the way as I find time. Have a look – I bet you’ll get a kick out of it.

If you’re a frequent reader/contributor, please register in the gallery section. It takes 5 seconds and you’ll only have to do it once. And – if I can get passive aggressive for a moment – it would be nice if you could all contribute. Comment, send photos, get interactive. If you were there, sound off. If you have pictures you’d like to see added – email them to me. Enjoy, everyone.

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A Rather Engaging Evening.


in

Friday night at the Ritz, Wilma and Dick Triconi hosted a wonderful engagement party for their son, Doug and his lovely fiancee, Cara. I haven’t had that much fun in a very long time. Cara is originally from Calgary, and her parents flew down from the Great White North for the occasion. Simply put – they had no idea what they were in for. But Camp friends met Concord friends met relatives and the evening was a great success.

But the soiree was not without its scandalous elements! Not to take anything away from Doug, but at 2 a.m. that very morning at Mohegan Sun – Al and Rachel got engaged! No one even really knew they were dating! So congrats to you crazy kids as well. They gave me their blessing to blogify their formerly secret love. And before you ask me which trailer park they’re thinking of moving to, they were at Mohegan for Rachel’s birthday. It wasn’t hand-picked by Al as the perfect proposal place. Although let’s be honest… no one would be too shocked, budday! Double down and let it ride. Whoops! You just did.

My favorite part of the evening was the end of Doug’s speech – when he screamed “Sexual Chocolate” and dropped the microphone on the floor. The angry DJ didn’t calm down when we explained Doug’s reference (“That’s a $150 dollar mic , man!”), but the Concord contingent were howling. The “8-ball of Viagra” joke Doug aimed at a table full of his elderly relatives also met with furious laughter, as did Kingman’s tie.

See the full gallery of photos (so far) here. I installed some great new software over the weekend. You can leave comments and captions and even vote for your favorite pics. What you have to do (unfortunately) is register via the link the top of the gallery page (takes 2 seconds). Then you have the option to comment on all the individual pic pages once you’re logged in. Sorry for the extra hoop to jump through, but it doesn’t take long and you only have to do it once.

I realized that in all the excitement I’m a complete spaz and didn’t get a single good photo of Cara, so please email me all your snaps – there were plenty of Pye In The Face readers in attendance with cameras, so don’t hold back. I am talking to you, Stacey, Rachel and Mary Beth. Let’s get a fun gallery together with lots of captions and comments which I can then forward to the happy couple. I need your help, kids. EMAIL me your pics!

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Once More For The Cheap Seats: Click The Fucking Ads.


in Uncategorized

Do you like what you read here everyday? Am I on your favorites menu? Does your employer inadvertently pay you to laugh at dead hooker jokes? Have you preempted an important conference call for Friday’s Quizzlet? Then click some of the ads you see in the left hand column every once in a while. Shameless.

Liken it to throwing a rupee at a Calcutta beggar who has just beaten his Grandmother unrecognizable for your entertainment. It pays for hosting. If you want to make an omlette, you have to beat a few East Indian senior citizens unmercifully.

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