Congratulations to Me!

Dee and Marteeeeen had their baby today and that makes me an uncle! Well, sorta, since I don't have any blood relation to either of them. In college, one of my roommates who was probably more needy than the newborn (and definitely drunker) would refer to me as Mr. The Uncle The Larry, and Marteeeeeen and Dee have picked up the coherent part of that and will tell the baby to call me Uncle Larry. Thankfully, baby Maren wasn't born the same day as me, because I don't like to share. In further good news, the baby is really cute, which almost never happens. Newborns are NOT cute. It's a fact. I'm not saying baby Maren is cuter than a bear cub, but she does elicits "aww"s and "soooo cute!" So, well done to Dee and Martin, and again, congratulations. To me.

An Anniversary!

To paraphrase a friend of mine, Friday, May 15th, was the 3rd Anniversary of my turning a quarter century old. Sure, it's a bit wordy, but the math is easier to follow than Foxy Brown's.

This won't be as heartfelt, moving or flattering as HD's birthday thanks, but I just wanted to thank everyone who came out to celebrate my birthday. Thanks to my family for taking me to Otto for deliciousness, and thanks to my friends who came out to Barcade, didn't panic when one restaurant was closed and Havana Outpost was so packed even Marlo Stanfield couldn't get in*, got me multiple cakes, traveled back into the city with me, played cards at a random bar since ACE was too packed, and then, when I was all ready to be an old man and pack it in at 1 AM, ragged on me till we got into ACE and then walked up to Crocodile Lounge for some better times. Three perfect sites in a row on Big Buck Hunter Safari, WHAT!!!

To everyone who feels awful because they weren't able to make it: don't worry, I still love you. And there's always time to buy me a really expensive gift.

*We were lucky not to get shot, since technically we were standing on his corner

Twitterdee and Twitterdum

Maybe I'm a little late to the Twitter-bashing bandwagon, if there is even one. That's because none of my friends do it, unless it's a secret little hobby of theirs, hidden from those who will certainly mock them incessantly. That all changed when someone who I had much respect for (I still have some respect man, come fix my lights!), HD's brother, told HD to check him out on Twitter. On it, he gave up to the minute details of his bathroom habits.

Sure, I have a blog, which means I think I have something important or funny to say, and am vain enough to hope people read it, yet practical enough to know that I can count my followers on two hands. However, I would never be arrogant enough to expect people to care about constant status updates. On the flip side, I don't care about my friends' minutiae, and if I did, we'd talk about it in person or on the phone. Now, celebrities Twitter and get a loyal following. There was a big story about how Ashton Kutcher had more followers than CNN. Who cares? Celebrity or not, there's not a single person on Earth I think is interesting enough to care about following their day-to-day exploits in 140 character-or-less posts, except maybe Jessica Biel in the hopes she'd announce her love of me.

Lastly, do you really have anything important to say if you're doing it in less than 140 characters? Nowadays we need our information bitesize and instantaneous, leading to more stupid stories spreading farther and faster and helping to further moronize America. I had hoped Twitter would be an annoying fad, but unfortunately, like capri pants on guys and Dane Cook, it seems here to stay. Go read a book, learn how to spell, and come up with something of substance

Kooza

While a recent trip to the Ringling Brothers circus at MSG left me slightly underwhelmed and missing Gunther Gebel-Williams, seeing Cirque du Soleil at Randall's Island had me dumbfounded and starstruck. This ain't your parents circus. Well, maybe it is, because my parents took me, so it's not unreasonable to assume your parents might take you. The performers did everything effortlessly, the clowns, with their R-Rated material, were hysterical, and the music and story left the audience with a sense of wonder. There was a guy who rode around on a unicycle while flipping and holding a very bendable woman on his arm, a gymnast who stacked 10 chairs on top of a high chair and held one-armed-stands at each one without clipping a safety wire until the top (because 30 feet up is dangerous, but not 28), and a juggler who's hands were quick like the Flash and would bounce a ball on his head while juggling 7 hoops, just cause he could. He never messed up, which was the most incredible part about it. All the acts were poised, focused and incredibly athletic.

I left the tent with two revelations: I need to date a contortionist (they have NO bones in their body and may be of alien descent, but good god, that flexibility!) and I need to set up my apartment like a circus tent, so that when I raise my arm up, a unicycle, or trapeze set, or blender, or anything I desire will drop down to me.

Pretty Pictures Abound

Sure, American Pie DVD is a little embarrassing, but Belly more than makes up for it

Wisteria, flowers open, colors manipulated. Dance for my, pigments! Dance for your master!

One of the first apricots appears and will be edible in July or August

Tiny red lettuce plants