Sunday, May 25, 2008

The Etiquette of Flinging Vegetables

At lunch with the bike club, Dad got some spinach lodged between his front teeth. He chiseled away at it with his fingernail. Finally, success! The spinach rocketed through the air and landed in Scott's coffee. Plunk.

Scott didn't notice.

Dad didn't mention it.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Running with Jennifer

One mumble from Jennifer about maybe slightly possibly kind of thinking about taking up running after Gavin was born and Tom immediately bellied up as Coach. He snapped into action about a half hour after Jennifer's obstetrician gave the all clear on exercise. Coach Tom fired off a series of running route maps, conveniently located around Jennifer's neighborhood and complete with mileage and topography notations.

Tom followed up with advice on proper sneaker fitting and how not to look like a roadnoob. A liberal sprinkling of phone consultations ensued, topped off with the proclamation that his protege would race in the spring. Jennifer was to pick a 5k out of the race forum and Tom would run with her. Wax off, Jennifer-san!

Race day finally arrived last Saturday. The turnout was big. Eric showed up with Nabeela, Adison, Gavin and a Camera as big as Gavin. Donna and Bob were also in attendance. Although Jennifer's First Five Kilometers was, of course, the main event, the secondary event was that Sethie and I would escort Jack and Ella on their first legitimate 5k. (Recall last December when Mary "Rosy Ruiz" clipped the back two off the Big Chill race course, pushing Jack, Ella and a boat-sized stroller across the finish line in a disqualified sub-30.)

As a result of adversities like obsessive-compulsive disorder, leaving late, being pulled over by the law, or maybe just for the sheer drama of it all, the Nutch and Mary squealed into the parking lot after the race had already started.

Because I am magnanimous, I patiently waited for Sethie to assemble the baby jogger. Then we securely strapped Jack and Ella into the baby jogger. When we finally made it over the start line, it was a whole bunch of minutes post gun going off and long after every single runner, jogger, slogger and walker had vanished into the distance. Luckily there were a lot of pokers so we only achieved wildly dead last for maybe a couple kilometers.

Around midway, we eye-spied Jennifer and Coach Tom up ahead on the downside of a big hill. Jennifer looked frisky of foot and very aerodynamic in her new light blue Nike running shirt.

The crowd went wild for Jennifer's highly photographed finish. She commented later that Coach Tom's training had paid off.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Newsflash! Cher Is Really An Indian

If you are interested in the real Cher's indian heritage, click here. What follows concerns a really fucking awesome party:

There was electric in the air at the recent Lip Synco DeMayo competition. Against the backdrop of a construction worker, a grease monkey, a cowboy and a nurse, the Indian was as tall as a five foot five inch tree.

Her headdress was mighty. So was the ensuing rendition of YMCA. It was a hightest fantasmo right through the last verse where the young man does it all by himself and puts his pride on a shelf.

I thought the Indian looked sort of familiar, but I didn't connect the dots until she took the stage again four acts later, this time decked out in a reckless black body suit and platform space boots.

Yes. It was Cher. She is really an Indian. This heritage has never come out, even during the Insider Star Club luncheon at the annual Cher Expo where such intimate topics as Cher's six tattoos have been reviewed in excruciating detail.

Congratulations to Tracie who took the top prize at this year's deadly Lip Synco DeMayo competition.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Wedding Reception Top Music Picks
by Henrik Johan Ibsen

Most partygoers are familiar with the moderately lewd 1969 Rolling Stones song in which singer Mick Jagger boasts of getting forcibly laid by a divorcee in New York City who covers him in roses prior to blowing his nose and then his mind. Whenever asked, I recommend "Honky Tonk Women" for wedding reception set lists.

On one hand, you are cheering about being heaved across a barroom queen's shoulder and taken upstairs for a ride. On the other hand you have just celebrated the sacred vows of marriage and:
  • All the flower girls in their sweet taffeta dresses are shakin' booty
  • The bride's boss, rigged out in pearls and sensible low heeled pumps, sashays through what could only be described as high energy square dance.
  • The bestman is out there boogying with his sister.
  • It is discovered that strappy sandals and ruffled gowns are not the best outfits for grinding.
My other mofo favorite nuptial tunes include: "The Stroke'" by Billy Squire and "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC. These can easily be repurposed for any affair where you might have occasion to dance with your great aunt.

Friday, May 09, 2008

My Birthday Day

At first, I fancied really going back to basics for my birthday. Maybe spend the day fasting on nothing but dark green leafy vegetables and little scraps torn from the bible. It would be all like zen and I would rediscover my inner child.

But then we decided to go to the Village and look at real estate and I glimpsed this in a window:


I think it's some sort of B-movie martian in a decorative saddle. It changed my perspective on the day and I decided to live life to the fullest because you never know when a lead pipe will fall from a scaffold and clock you right in the bean.

We enjoyed five hours noodling around in other people's closets and wrestling with the "why" in the question of The Legion Action Figures Posed in Mock Battle Inside Somebody's Kitchen Cabinets.

Subsequently, it being my birthday and all, I decided I was keen on a delicious snack of my choosing. I had 2.5 cups of coffee, spoonfuls of brownie and a lovely lump of seaweed. Then we spent about half an hour shopping for sectional couches at George Jensen in Chelsea. Because everybody knows when you need a nap, the slick move is to shop for upholstered furniture.

I made several phone calls while testing out a brown leather number. Tom said it was poor form to put my feet up on the coordinating brown leather ottoman. This bugged me because as Tracie pointed out, it is the Week of Stacey-- when the menace is left unchecked but everyone has to smile in wry amusement.

The Week of Stacey: May 8 - May 15. Mark your calendar.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Lip-Syncho De Mayo : Dirty Love Trio Brings A-Game

I don't regularly fling myself around the kitchen to the frantic and thunderous beat of my new favorite earcandy for no particular reason. I am building stamina for the brutal Lip Syncho De Mayo annual contest at Tracie and Andrew's. Unfortunately, such high-level competition requires more than stamina. People come to play.

Yet the voting pool is a fickle fickle mistress. In a shocking turn of events, the Dirty Love number was passed over for a place on the podium.

The routine, which defied all reason and social order, lasted approximately four and a half minutes. Marc presided over the Frank Zappa ruckus with Bacchanalian charm, a fuzzy black headsuit and a dragon air guitar. Claire, obviously corrupted by dangerous peer pressure, sported black tights, frisky gold sandals and a brazen poodle fetish. She worried that her children would find out she was out after midnight drinking beer, socializing and shakin' her money maker unsupervised. She commented, "My kids keep encouraging me to stay home and hang out in the basement playing Risk."

Meanwhile, looking like the love child of a sinister B-movie villain and Gandalf the Wizard in trucker shades, Bill loomed over the high energy dramatics. According to Bill, the bold and provocative number was the culmination of a month of rehearsals, 27 years of late-night guitar playing, and six weeks of lengthy phone conversations with famous local Crunk star, Solja Boy. He noted for the record that he has never eaten a crayon and this has neither improved nor diminished his mad skills in the lip-sync space.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Revenge of the Flower House


So feast your eyeballs on my eight-passenger spinch leaf. Spawn of the Flower House in the middle of the front yard.

(For full appreciation of the scale, please remember Tom has a giant head.)

So let's caucus people. Do we all finally agree that the Flower House is, and always was, a veritable hurricane of inspiration and foresight?