11 thoughts and lessons to go with your friday morning everything bagel

1. It's never a bad idea to show up a little bit late to an office party. Missing out on 1 hour of a 2-hour open bar could be the difference between waking up a little parched but memory-intact and guilt-free, and waking up suicidally depressed and terrified to face your peers.

2. The Knicks are fun. It's official. I am looking forward to going to see them get torched by LeBron next week.

3. Restaurant Week is a good thing and it's worth taking the time to make a reservation or two.

4. Speaking of restaurants, I for one support the calorie counts that now appear on all NYC restaurant menus. That shit is useful. Just like the Board of Health Grades out in California.

5. One more on this tip: there is a bar/restaurant across from Blue Ribbon Bakery on Bedford and Downing Street. I think it's changed ownership and name a few times over the years, and I think I've been to each of its incarnations. I don't know what it's called now, but I stumbled over there for late night eats after our holiday party on Tuesday and the food was spectacularrific. I probably would have enjoyed shoe leather at that point, but still.

6. I am pretty sick of the Obamas as celebs. Like, why is he on the cover of Entertainment Weekly? I am enjoying his presidenting, however. Should I be scared about this?

7. In March 1987, just a couple of months after I had almost failed out of high school, I somehow convinced my parents that it would be OK for me to take a week off from class so I could go down to Daytona Beach with three friends and party with the college kids on Spring Break. We had fun, although nobody so much as kissed a girl, which was kind of an accomplishment, considering THIS was the official anthem of Spring Break Daytona '87. Wow. Cocaine is a helluva drug.

8. Bruce Springsteen is playing the Super Bowl. I'm pretty neutral about this. It's like Prince or Tom Petty; it will be professional and fun and there might be a surprise or two. I'll watch it. You know what's an underrated Bruce song? I'm Goin' Down. I like that one, it's catchy and funny as hell.

9. Sickness. I finally got my winter sickness. Phlegmy and sore throated and shit. I'm ready to be done with it. I'm ready to be done with winter. I'm ready to stop wearing a hat.

10. Blagojevich. Despite crsmal's attempts to tell me I look like this ugly joker, I am not convinced. Nor do I know how to say his name. But I like the way it looks on paper. It looks like the sound you'd make if you got a completely sudden and unexpected case of projectile vomiting while you were in the middle of calmly giving someone directions or something.

11. If you could go out for five beers with anyone in the world, who would it be?

the inauguration so nice, they performed it twice

So Tuesday there was that whole inauguration shebang. Pretty cool. They inaugurated the hell out of that one dude. Then they went back and inaugurated him again in private just to make sure. Now he's got the grim task of fixing all the broke stuff. Probably too much to fix in 4 years, or even 8, or maybe even 100, but I think he'll leave the place better than he found it. Just like when a friend from out of town comes to stay with you, that's all you can really hope for.

During the inauguration, a friend's status update on facebook said something like, "Bush begins drinking again in 10, 9, 8..." I had this image of a bad SNL open where Obama is delivering his speech, and there is a dramatic pause in the speech, and then you hear the unmistakable pop of a beer can being opened. All eyes turn to Bush, who's sheepishly slurping the excess foam off the top of a can of Coors Light and says, "My bad, Barack...keep going man." Then as the speech continues he gets more and more rowdy. Tune in Saturday and see what they come up with.

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town...

Or actually, earlier that morning...my sis and her husband and my pop's lady friend completed our mission of spreading my pop's ashes off of the Morton Street Pier, as he had wished.

First of all, the Morton Street Pier is really parallel to Christopher Street, if you're looking for it. It's been completely redone and it's now totally spiffed out and I'm sure in the summer it's jammed. But it was pretty empty on Tuesday, just a couple security guys reading books and trying to stay warm in little Parks Department one-man motorpod things, and the occasional jogger or strolling couple.

We found a good spot and opened the bag. I didn't take any pictures of it. My brother in law reached into the ashes and spread some over the side to check their dispersal capability, and seemed satisfied. Of course, I had assumed we'd just hold the bag out into the wind and shake it until the ashes were all gone, but once he reached in we all felt like it would only be right to take a barehandful for ourselves. So we all reached in one by one and said our little private somethings and heaved the ashes over the side.

The Hudson looked cold and unwelcoming. I can only assume pop wasn't feeling anything.

Finally I took the rest of the bag and shook it all out over the railing. It was probably about two pounds of ashes, and although quite a bit dispersed into the wind, a lot of it just kind of plopped down on the side of the pier and sat there, a big grey blotch in the snow. I'm sure my dad would have gotten a laugh at the un-poeticness of that moment.

The ash dump mission was an overall success, although it didn't provide me with the kind of instant closure I had hoped for. And it wasn't as emotional as I thought it would be. If anything, it made me realize how much I've locked off my feelings about his death, about the fact that he's not coming back, about how sad it all is. I guess I'm just not prepared to deal with it yet and I've become kind of robotic about it as a result. At some point it's gonna hit me again, the way it did when it first happened, and then maybe I'll come to a better understanding of what it means.

***

Unrelated:

1) How are there people out there who still look up to Lance Armstrong? I guess it's OK if you admire him as a cancer awareness-raiser, but as an athlete I consider him as tainted as Barry Bonds. How does he escape the public criticism?

2) The NBA and the Knicks. Kind of a strange season overall, I have no idea who I think is the strongest team. If I had to pick an eventual champ right now I'd say it'll be the Lakers. I like the direction the Knicks are going, they are actually watchable. I like that they got rid of most of the douchewads, and I think LeBron is going to fit in beautifully. Although if you're him, are there any players on the Knicks who you're genuinely excited to pursue a championship with? Maybe David Lee. But overall the Cavs have more useful parts than the Knicks, and the Knicks have a year to change that.

3) I have been getting some awesome spam email subject lines lately, I really should have been saving them. Instead I will share this comment that accompanied a dunk video on yahoo:

damit nuts all up in your mouth like some chicken head at the club at 4am

4) Finally and most importantly, I need a new cute phrase for when there are multiple haloscan comments. I am OK with 'awkward silence (0)' and '1 honest cop', but the ideas for multiple commenters have been completely eluding me. Help me out.

time for decisions to be made

"You may not agree with some tough decisions I have made," Bush said. "But I hope you can agree that I was willing to make tough decisions."

This is such a perfect way to close out these awful 8 years.

I'm trying to parse this. Is he saying, "I'm sorry, but at least I tried" or "Fuck you, people. This job is harder than a motherfucker"?

Like, don't all presidents make tough decisions? Even the decision not to act -- say, when facing the opportunity to start a misguided war -- is still a decision, yes? Is he saying, "At least whenever an opportunity to do something -- anything -- came up, I went ahead and did it"? Which is probably accurate, but is that something to hang your legacy on?

I think what he is basically saying is:

"I'm sorry I fucked up the world, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to fuck up the world."

Which you can't really agree or disagree with. Let's see how Bush's logic stacks up when applied to other people.

"You might not agree with the tough decision I made to call a time out when we had none left, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions."

-Chris Webber

"You might not agree with the tough decision I made to cheat on you dozens of times with various high-priced hookers, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions."

-Eliott Spitzer

"You might not agree with the tough decision I made to give in to my homicidal desires and shoot people in the face on the streets of New York, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions."

-David Berkowitz

"You might not agree with the tough decision I made to destroy your financial future for my own benefit, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions."

-Bernie Madoff

"You might not agree with the tough decision I made to borrow your car without your permission and drunk drive it into a telephone pole, but I hope you'll agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions."

-A Million Teenagers

The point is, everybody makes tough decisions every day. You're not judged on whether or not you make them. You're judged on the quality of the decisions you make. For a president to offer this up as some kind of self-endorsement is just astonishing.

Basically:
I did stuff. Pretty awesome, right?
-GWB, on his presidency

In other news...

1. I came up with what I thought was a good band name, The Plus Ones. Unfortunately a quick google search reveals that such a band has already been founded, and has already broken up. So I guess it's available.

2. With some sage advice from Joe Monkeyweb, I was able to negotiate my outrageous renewal lease down significantly. They wanted like a 17% a month increase over 2 years, we got it down to 5% over 18 months. Lesson: it never hurts to ask. Our goal now is to live here for those 18 months, possibly one more year after that, and then buy a home somewhere. Maybe BKN.

3. Tuesday is going to be an unforgettable day. The inauguration is going to make me well up, I'm sure. Plus, it is the 1 year anniversary of my pop's death, and we're going to scatter his ashes off the Morton Street Pier that morning (if the NTSB doesn't bust us). Even though he passed away so early in the campaign, pop had already become a total Obama man. While he won't be here to see the inauguaration, it seems fitting that he will disappear into the winds on such a historic day, a day that would have meant so much to him.

4. I can watch dunks all day. This statement was true for me 25 years ago, and it is just as true today.

5. When I was in LA at cW's apartment, I saw a picture on his fridge of one of his buddies, rocking out at some random extravaganza from days gone by. I asked him who the dude was, and he said, "That's my buddy xxx, he died." Apparently the guy was a workaholic who lived an extremely intense life, and he had a fatal heart attack at like 38 or something. It coulda been me, it coulda been you.

That story, combined with the incredible tale of survival on the Hudson this week, has given me one more reminder how quickly it can all end. How lucky we are for each day. How stupid, how ungrateful, we are for spending that day doing something we don't want to be doing. How the below pic should be the baseline for personal satisfaction.

Now if you'll excuse me I have to head off for another thankless work week.

California, I meant to tell you

You looked stunning this Christmas.

I can't stop thinking about you. It makes me sad being so far away from you.

You provided the perfection in what turned out to be a perfect little vacation. Got to play hoops two times with an ocean breeze assisting me on the way to the hoop.

Headed down to San Diego and saw the lights of Tijuana just a couple of Brett Favre heave 'em ups away. Avoided missing the 'last U.S. exit' exit. Ate crappy food at a crappy tourist resort in Coronado Island, but your sunshine carried the day.

Vacation reading: The Tortilla Curtain, and I felt like I was right in the middle of the book. Loved it, but wondering what part of it fulfills the 'comedy' part of the 'tragicomedy' description on the back cover?

Took Amtrak up the coast and spent a couple nights in your L.A. area with pals.

R. Lee Ermey made sure nobody tried anything funny.


One thing, California -- this train ride up your coast is a surprisingly unbeautiful trip. Whatever. I passed the hour and change reading my book and slurping my Bud and rocking out to my favorite tunes.

Got that warm beery feeling with cW and pals on a Friday night. This is as unbeery a shot as you'll see:

Man we must have been funny!

We went to a bar near cW's place called Johnny's. Legend has it that Johnny was a dude who had some money and wanted a bar near his house that he could go to every day. So he opened up Johnny's and said, "This bar will be open from 10am to 2am, every day of the year including holidays, forever." Seems like he's kept his word, and I can only assume it would be 10am to 4am if the City of Los Angeles could ever get around to addressing their bar time problem. Anyway, Johnny's was a fun place, a nice mix of people, including some people older than me, not dead-end old-timers yet, just regular people in their 40's and 50's who like to have a good time.

There was a dude there who was a little rough around the edges, nice but kind of scary, and somehow I ended up talking to him. He said he had lived in L.A. his whole life and that I'd better be careful.

"People will just shoot you around here. Watch your ass when you leave the bar tonight," he said.

Then he explained that he was at the bar with the intention of restoring his name and pride.

"Last time I was here, I got in a fight in front of my girl," he said. "Some guy clocked me, and I didn't respond. I just took it. I won't feel like a man until I find that guy and fight him again."

Good luck with that, I thought as I eased away from him. I wonder if he got his man.

The next night I met up with another friend, who, completely coincidentally, took me to...Johnny's.
It's a nice place. I tried Absinthe for the first time. These Pabst-swilling Beard-sporting hipsters are enjoying themselves, whoever they are.

But is it the only bar in Los Angeles? My initial study says maybe. You tell me, California.

Went back to San Clemente for the last couple days and spent the final afternoon on the pier.

I just stared out at the ocean and let my mind wander. You're very good at making people do that, California.

I thought about 2008, and 2009. I even thought about 1998 for awhile. I wondered how much I've changed over the years. I wondered how much I've learned.

I've learned that 1% milk is the right choice for iced coffee. Skim is fine for all other occasions.

I thought about the fact that suddenly, my appreciation for Hall and Oates is no longer ironic in the least. They had some great great songs.



I came to accept that I will never be an awesome surfer dude with no worries.

Before I even had time to soak up our final moments together, I found myself back at work in NYC, already a beaten man within the first 48 hours. Where did you go, California? You didn't even leave a note.

At least I still have my lonely Macchiato Egg & Cheese on Ciabatta.

And a black man is about to be President. How about that?

See you this summer.

Hans

on to the nine

"New Year's Eve is amateur night and resolutions are for fools."

-Phil Jackson, 1/1/09

He's probably right on both counts, but to admit it is to give up hope, and I'm not ready to do that yet.

Hope that this is the year you finally found that perfect New Year's Eve Party, where you were the star of the show like you wrongly remember you used to be from time to time.

And hope that writing something down makes you more likely to follow through on it.

I am out in Southern California with the in-laws, so the New Year's Eve party was out of the question. We stayed in and sang karaoke and drank some champagne and kept the festivities under control, as you always should when three or more generations are present. It may sound ungrateful, but I think my heartfelt rendition of "Lodi" deserved an even better score than the 96 I received from the machine. To give the song the proper emotional resonance, I always pretend it is about Lodi, Wisconsin.

As for resolutions, first let's check in on last year's goals. It turns out I didn't really have any, other than a vague desire to live a less passive existence, to take life by the balls for once. As in "Take 2008 and make it my personal joyride. I am going to soak up every moment, I am going to be loose and goofy and full of spice."

Then my dad died on January 20th and the joyride was over before it started. In the end, 2008 was still an interesting year (as are all years except maybe 1997), with some historic triumphs and some cringeriffic disasters. But it was not the enthusiastic victory lap I had hoped for.

I'll take a mulligan on 2008 and push my goal of general fulfillment forward into 2009, a.k.a. the year I finally get my shit together and stop living in nervous anticipation of my next mistake.

In addition to this, I have a few small, attainable, and most importantly, objectively measurable goals for the year.

1) Continue to play basketball often enough so that I slow down my spiral of suckitude. I went back to Laguna for Day 2 and it was so so much better. I didn't feel a day over 50 out there.

I will also try not to get mad when people play in jeans or running shoes. I have no idea why this bothers me so much.

2) Come up with a slang term that catches on nationally. My first attempt: The Business District -- a euphemism for a person's genital region. You can go ahead and use it in a sentence, just to see how it feels. Not bad, right?

3) Get fit.

4) Don't even resolve to get fit in 2010, it's not going to happen.

5) Come to terms with your sexuality. I finally figured mine out in 2008, now it's time for me to accept yours.

6) Write a short story.

7) Think about what I eventually want to do for a living, if it ain't what I'm doing, for a minimum of 20 minutes total. Take at least one tiny step in this new direction.

8) Sing karaoke, with passion and skill, in a bar at least one time.

9) Take care of the kid for a weekend so Ma Bungle can get away and have a special little personal trip all for herself.

10) Patent my iPhone app: "Signal Loss" -- this is an application that, at the push of a button, creates static and simulated audio dropouts, allowing you to say "I think I'm losing you" to the person on the other end of the line. This will elminate the need for other bullshit conversation-ending excuses.

11) Read 25 books.

And do some other shit, too. I'll let you know.