Adventures in why I need a new car

Driving home from the YMCA today, I called ahead to make a request. I requested that Tom find the clear duct tape which I had purchased for an exorbitant $7 at the ramshackle hardware store on 7th Avenue. At the time, I had harbored the mistaken notion that I would use the clear duct tape to repair a ginormous hole in the Flower House that someone, which might have been me, ripped in it during some aggressive weedwacking.

Tom inquired with more trepidation than curiosity as to what the clear duct tape was needed for. I informed him that upon my arrival at work this morning, I had pressed the button to roll up my car window. But instead of it going up, I heard a loud clunk. The noise sounded enough like Henry Rollins that I turned down my iPod and tried again with the rolling up button. The window abruptly crashed down inside my car door.

I cursed like a sailor and jammed my fingers down through the rubber flaps on the door, using all the strength in my sweaty thumb and forefinger to yank the glass back out of the door. I propped it up precariously and it actually stayed up until after work when I slammed closed my trunk and the window violently plummeted back down into the nether regions of my car door. I resigned myself to driving around like my Grandpa Frank with the window fully open and my arm dangling out.

Tom was less resigned to me driving around like my Grandpa Frank with the window fully open and my arm dangling out. He asked me where I had put the clear duct tape and I told him to look in all the places where I most likely would have put it. He has a knack for finding things I don't even remember having. Nonetheless, the clear duct tape never did turn up. So my window is taped shut with regular duct tape. My Grandpa Frank was also a great fan of your regular duct tape. Besides hemming his pants and fixing his shoes, he periodically duct taped large items to the roof of his car for transport.

So I guess I am driving around like my Grandpa Frank.

Because I'm Allergic to Sulfites Like That

On Saturday, we have the fancy wine-tasting party in Sea Girt. I'll be the one in the corner drinking beer and eating candy.

Review: City of New York

If she calls out to you, New York City enchants you like a succubus. Her powerful allure washes over you; it envelopes you; it bewitches, tantalizes and mesmerizes you. She bleeds you of your innocence. She demands mercilessly high stakes and cold flawlessness. She requires relentless effort, expunging the complacent. And you love her even more for it.

Yelp Review of "Just Shades" -- a Specialty Store in SoHo

If you need a lavender 8" x 4" oval lampshade, there's some peace of mind knowing a store like Just Shades exists and they probably have such a thing in stock. So when I saw this review two-star trashing the store on Yelp....



...I realized the dangers of giving computer access to an utterly self-absorbed callow-head. Just in case I ever hack into her Yelp account, I've prepared some reviews to post on her behalf. She probably won't even notice:

Vegetarian Deli - I can't believe they didn't have pastrami. I always get pastrami for lunch and I don't think I'm alone on this. So much for knowing their customer. Three stars but only because the counter boy was cute.

Whole Foods - I had a hankering for dim sum and I walked around the entire store looking for table service and a stubby pencil to write down my order. No luck. Two stars for not even trying.

Starbucks - It sucked. I wanted to buy a windshield wiper blade replacement for my Audi A4 and the barista said they didn't sell windshield wipers. One star for that rat house.

Found! Data for Future Taxidermic Analysis

Date: 5/10/09 20:17

Found: One 3/8" steel ring washer at corner of Wolvenstraat and Hartenstraat, Amsterdam Canal District

Current Status: On dresser originally belonging to Alma Dick, 4 Colonial Court

Date: 5/17/09 19:11

Found: Galvanized hub bolt and washer assembly from undercarriage of large vehicle, in puddle at corner of Madison and 58th Street

Current Status: Top drawer of sideboard, 4 Colonial Court


Date: 5/25/09 17:20

Found: One dime and four pennies, parking lot by jungle gym, Riverbend Condominium Complex, New Brunswick

Current Status: Dime in possession of Nuchie T., four pennies, whereabouts currently unknown.

Right-handed Smithie Glove Problem: A Study

I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous. This way I could kiss the Glove Problem goodbye.

The first underpinning of the Problem is that I like my right hand, my hammer hand, in supple leather that fits like a glove. If I can't get a solid grip, my five-pound Uri Hofi hammer whips itself from my fingers and sails across the garage like a cannonball.

Generally, this never ends well.

The second underpinning of the problem is that I like my left hand in a chubby flame-retardant gauntlet, given that it often finds itself in, on, or about some really hot ass fire.

So here you have it. The Problem, as depicted below. One pair of hammer-handers. Left hand - good as new. Right hand - seen better days. Two pairs of fire-handers. Left hand - seen better days. Right hand- good as new.

Same exact point depicted below, enmass:


I've been scoping around for a lefty smithie over at the swapmeet.

I really took a shine to these new-fangled Kevlar IronClad numbers M&D got me for Christmas. Good grip, good fit. Thumbs up. I think I'm due for a new pair.


A hole is a good sign that something happened that's gonna leave a mark. I plan to let my fingerprints grow back, just to be safe.


A person needs a goodly quantity of handwear because if you dangle your grubbies inside the forge too long, your gloves heat up like convection ovens and things get crispy inside. The discomfort level ramps up from mild to a real sizzler, which is when you have to wrench off the steaming glove and throw it out on the driveway to cool off. After that, you need a fresh, sweetly cool glove at the ready. I go through about a glove an hour.

Check out my rad pile of safety gear.

Guest Post by Pop: The History of "The Tub"

Me in "The Tub."
Me and Nutchie and his wife-beater and sour pudge head in The Tub.

When I was maybe a few years older, I barely remember dragging The Tub out underneath a drainage spout in the concrete wall edging the alley. We filled it up with water during a thunderstorm and practically got struck by lightening. I recall the eerie blue light.

- - - - - - - - -

After 40 years and at least 10 with a valueless-rendering hole in the base, we have finally sucked it up and discarded "The Tub".

Last Monday night after hours of deliberation, Mom and I decided to put "The Tub" out for the trash truck to take. But, the gods intervened and the trash takers did not opt to remove "The Tub".

Perhaps they felt it was not truly trash or they felt it should not be removed from its home, but maybe Stanlissteel, the goddess of The Tubs, made it invisible so it would not be seen to be removed.

The bottomline: after a storied history, "The Tub" lives... for yet another trash day!

Snuff Film at Lip Syncho De Mayo

First I wasn't sure if Marc was vomiting over there in the corner, but when I saw the buck knife, I realized it was just some mischievous harikari. His shaving theatrics and stunning mongoose-like beauty underpinned the entire video sequence. Meanwhile, Janet, wrapped in a glorious white feather boa, egged on the proceedings with some randy episodes of tushy shaking and un-lipsyncmanlike whooping.

Stage right could barely contain MJ Andrew's dance on the floor in a round of downtempo pantomime. First, he's all nooooo, with the head shaking. Then there's some sidebar comments and beer drinking and Kabuki theatre references. Next comes a mimed sequence where he possibly unlocks a door and rides away on a smallish Huffy BMX bike. The grand finale is a bout of one-legged triple PG dirty dancing.

The lead singing trio, Tracie, Heather and Heather's various hand puppets and finger-guns, enjoyed karate high-kicks, surfing, barbering, choking, Charlie's Angels fighter chic voguing, boxing, mini-shopping, the monkey and some kind of dangerous war dance.

All in all, the performance made me weep. I still can't believe the shocking coincidence -- all two video entrants selcted the same obscure song. Great minds think fiendishly alike, Mr. Goodson.