Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Today, I quadlined, all according to a late-breaking plan. Quadlining is not rollerskating. The 100mm jumbo wheels and rear shock absorber constitute a different sport. The Pants Emergency came as a surprise. The Pants Emergency Despite my lack of gym bag, I could not be detered. I saddled up in a pair of chinos. And smooth sailing until my belt malfunctioned. Then the dire portion of this segment commenced. Andrew-Star : Not as Customer-Service Oriented as Tracie-Star I dialed Tracie-Star, but the line was busy. Tracie-Star had successfully come to the rescue during a recent ill-fated attempt to get to Chatham vis a vis back roads. So I tried Andrew-Star on the cell. Originally, I had three requests: Headphones Water Pants (that stay up) My priorities straightened themselves out by the time Andrew-Star picked up and I forgot about requests 1 & 2. Andrew-Star refused to come over and skate with me, claiming that he was "packing for Mexico" but this was after he already to

My car registered the outside temperature at -46° F yesterday morning. Thankfully, it warmed up to -34° by the afternoon. I had not anticipated the freakish thermometer plunge. On the other hand, you have different fingers. No, on the other hand, the cold snap curiously taxed my new non-aluminum deodorant. Using deductive logic, I concluded I must be suffering from freezerburn. I'm quick like this. Generally, I leave the house with both feet inside my shoes. technorati tags: audi , A4 , thermometer , deodorant

As if bird flu and ticks weren't enough, along comes even riskier business. Danger, Will Robinson Our backyard is perilous. Everyone recognizes the need for caution. The next door neighbor helpfully informed Tom that if we needed the name of a good landscaping service, he would be happy to step up with a recommendation. He concerns himself with our safety. Warm fuzzies all around. The Scene of the Incident The mulch heap is hairy. Three years ago, we bought a lot of mulch. We still have it piled up in the driveway. I was trying to get rid of it. Actually mulch something. That's when it happened. Whilst shoveling, I ran across a large white larvae with a red head. Special Squashing Technique I employ a sophisticated strategy for eradicating pestilents. I pick up them up and throw them onto a hard surface. Then I smash them with a shovel. It has always worked well. Except this time, not so lucky. Like a Powdered Chocolate Munchkin Mucilaginous larvae juice squirted out all over

"I'll tell you what I'm good at. I'm good at giving Alex a voice. This is what he is saying now: 'Yeah who needs to sit on your lap. You with the computer. Type type type. Even though the computer is nice and toasty. Here I am stepping on your track pad on my way to sit on Tom's leg. Cuddle up with his knee cap.'" technorati tags: cat , pet , animal

Socratic Irony happens on the most garden-variety days: "I have photographic memory." "Really? You mean eidetic , right?" "Huh?" "Eidetic memory." "Photographic memory. That's what I have." "'Photographic memory' is slang. The official name for it is 'eidetic memory.'" "Ohhhh. Yeah. Right. I forgot that." technorati tags: socratic , Irony ,

Mom throws in her two cents on how to safely transport Alex, our agoraphobic maniacal freak of a cat, to the veterinarian. You better concoct a wily plan. You're not as speedy as that cat, so you'll need to outsmart him. technorati tags: Family , Cat , Veterinarian

One year ago, Alex had an appointment with the vet at 9am. Tom and I were naive. We did not anticipate Trouble. 8:00 am : We chase Alex around the sofa. Tom grabs Alex and tries to jam him into the cat cage. Alex is a blood-thirsty razor-clawed scrapper in the face of adversity. He spread-eagles his legs, giving himself the circumference of a manhole cover. 8:15 am : I put on my blacksmith gloves along with a full-face shatter-resistant helmet. We wrestle the cat into the cat cage. Alex has puffed himself up so his fur stands on end. He is a dragon in a catsuit. 8:30am : We haul Alex, incarcerated in his cat cage, out to the car. Alex howls a rock-anthem length compilation of ten decibel caterwauls that unroll into wails and finish on notes of pathetic desperation. 8:35am : Alex flings himself against the sides of his mobile jail cell. He is a wildman. The whole cage skids around on the backseat under the force of his body blows. 8:40am : Tom breaks out in a rash. He is allergic t

Alice has it going on when it comes to being lowered from the rafters in a hula hoop dangling from a rope. No fear of heights, that one. I'm talking about careening down a rabbit hole before jetting off on a daring, madcap, bouncy fandango based on Lewis Carroll's books, Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. And it all looks very hard on the knees. On Saturday, in Philadelphia, in celebration of my BIRTHDAY, Tom and I walked a sneaker-worthy distance, in the rain, to see the play Lookingglass Alice produced by the Lookingglass Theatre . The Lookingglass Theatre is not a Theater, but an actor troupe begun by David Schwimmer. David used his bar mitzvah money for the startup twenty years ago when he was in college. Then he left to pursue less dangerous avenues of income generation. I read on the NPR web site that the actor troupe found an unemployed circus performer to ante up some tips on high altitude drama. I would assume this was after David Schwimmer left the

My mother has had a Shit List for as long as I can remember. She worries over it. Polishes it to au courant . Keeps it lock-tight and ready in the holster. As of 5/10/07 : 5pm : My Mother's Shit List Paris Hilton. (What an idiot. She should go to jail. Could've killed someone. Driving drunk for Pete's sake.) Karl Rove. (That Machiavellian puppeteer. He's got his hand up George Bush's ass.) Tom Cruise. (Leprechaun. Know-it-all Leprechaun.) The President of Giant Foodstores. (Not carrying Kashi cereal is the last straw.) Noel Ballentine 'Scheister Doctor.' (And most doctors, for that matter. All the same. White-Coat-God Complex. Doctors.) Happy Mother's Day, Ma!!!!!

Competition smacked fierce at the recent Lip Syncho De Mayo throwdown held at Heezie o' Tracie/Andrew. From corruption of minors to headfur, lacy pants and faggamuffinry, the silent singers busted moves of many colors. Based on the fanatical audience response to their rendition of "Polka Your Eyes Out" by Weird Al Jancovic, Andrew and Marc have decided to take the act on the asphalt. Inevitably, they will be interviewed by the local media across the nation. Because I am full-on charitable, I have agreed to be their press agent. In this capacity, I have prepared a list of crib note responses to the questions the two Boy Wonders may be asked by disk jockeys and other broadcasters. This way, the dialogue will stay on track: Thanks so much for having us on your show. What was your favorite part of our performance and why? That's an interesting question, but I'm sure your audience is more curious about whether you think we are more talented than The Henry Rollins Band.

New Jersey Devilman Half and Sprint Triathlon , Cedarville, NJ. My brother did the Half Iron: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run. I spectated. And took a few notes because the day was ripe with possibility. Before I detected the nefarious goings-on. THE POSSIBILITIES Opportunities for Bookies promoting Games of Chance . I'm going to make a fortune next year. On occasions when the Sprint route diverged from the Half Iron route, high stakes wagering could add some auxiliary excitement to the event. Given the absence of signs or obvious directional assistance of any kind, athletes less skilled in orienteering had equal odds of picking the correct route. Additional game tables could be set up near most of the unmarked and unmanned turns on the course. A Chance to hone my Math Skills. 500 racers. 6 porta-potties. Probably plenty but I was never good with fractions. I was surpised to find the toilets filled to the brim. In the spirit of adventure, they had been set up on a sligh

Tom and I got awesome with our peeps at the Pluckemin Inn this evening. Christine has fabulous molars. I know this on account of her Super-Sized Perma-Grin of Love. She introduced us to Dan, "The Flame." They move in together June 1. Melissa confessed that she dislikes orange beverages. She enjoys a pellucid refreshment. Kerry heard about an afterparty and suggested we grab a couple of forties and head over. I found this surprising since she gets up at five in the morning. Yeah, ok I made this up. Except the 5am part. I'm saving the Kerry News for later. Leah was impressed by my Pleatherberry . She mentioned her boyfriend Greg has a Burberry so he can check his email on the fly. All the chavs are jealous. Greg blew in from Manhattan, taking a detour off his whirlwind Burger Tour. He logs his Burger Ratings in an official Burger Spreadsheet and plans to write a humorous but yet serious article for a food magazine revealing his Burger Analyses. Everyone can hardly

Today I ran out of gas. Luckily, I have honed some pretty substantial skills in the art of rolling. My practice began after I realized my car could get at least forty miles per gallon vis-á-vis minor alterations to my driving practices. For example, coasting up to stoplights and careening down hills without braking to achieve maximum distance on the green power of momentum. Save the Earth! Since the commencement of my conservation campaign, I have noticed an increase in proximate incidents of road rage. Probably coincidental but worth mention for the purposes of statistical transparency and accurate reporting. Which I am well known for. Admittedly, I grew cocky. The little low-gas warning light showed up while I was driving through a cow pasture in Titusville, NJ this morning. I have always considered the low-gas warning light somewhat of an alarmist. So I drove the whole way back up here and then took a tour of East Hanover. I only made it half way home. At first, I thought the sputte

Three is a lucky number, so here's the third in my triptych on Tom in 2007. Tom does not like the nickname "Flatty." Tom would be upset if mistaken for a woman, but not if mistaken for a Sherpa. Tom is not confident he could pull off a credible British accent. Tom is a proponent of naming his soon-to-be born nephew "Richter Richter" in the Welsh tradition of the double name. Although he feels the first name should be pronounced "Rich-ter" while the last name should remain "Rick-ter." Tom may possess a token amount of Spidey Sense. Tom gets annoyed if he wants to look at race results on your computer and you refuse, even if you're trying to do something else at the time.