Beantown Buffoonery

I decided to join in with the huddled masses and take a Greyhound bus from Penn Station to Boston, since I haven't felt like a poor college kid with no other transportation options nor been annoyed/wished my nose wouldn't work in quite a while. Luckily I got to sit within earshot of the one girl on the bus who wouldn't shut up. Ever. I don't think she was friends with or even knew the girl next to her, yet that didn't stop her from talking about guys who didn't want to date her, her favorite areas to run, or her favorite topics to talk about. She gave advice, inquired about inquiries and mentioned 25 places she had lived for 3 years or more each. Despite looking mid-20s, she was apparently 80 or older. Normally I'd be fascinated with her Wolverine-like powers, but she was the most obnoxious person on the bus, even speaking with a fake British accent the entire time. For what reason? Who was she trying to impress on the bus?

Everything was made better when my bus finally docked in South Station and a car driven by a yellow labrador named Sahara showed up to pick me up. She was so excited to see me that the next day, at the ungodly hour of 7 something, she evolved opposable thumbs in order to open the door to my guest room and wack everything in sight with her billy-club/tail. At least, that's what must have happened since Chris denied her involvement in this plot. Chris is my old neighbor from Ithaca College and now lives in Chelsea, north of Boston. Along with her limey husband/butler, she is the largest landowner in all of Massachusetts, with four properties in the area, all completely gut renovated and beautiful. After purchasing and moving into the 4th location, Chris and Simon plan to eventually move to Seattle, Washington, where they will make a land grab to rival the Louisiana Purchase.

In between ducking her racist septuagenarian bi-polar neighbor who threatened (promised, really) to knock out Simon and catching a death trap bus with a driver who cursed non stop, spoke to himself, thought the rumble strips were a bus-only lane and tried to sideswipe cars in NYC, I had time to pick raspberries, watch old men in tie-dye shirts hold dance competitions at the Beach Boys concert, travel to Johnny Cupcakes and Harpoon Brewery with Mario and lobster bake.

Dedication to fetching; Sahara the big yellow dog

Sheep eating their natural diet of watermelon and pineapple

I wear my Johnny Cupcakes kangaroo shirt while Mario wears the only Karlos Dansby shirt ever made

Amherst Addendum

The trip to Amherst also taught me a very valuable lesson. Pecan pie isn't as yuck as I thought it was. This means there's not a single pie I don't like. Bakeries, beware.

Amherst Action

Human Dynamo and DJ were chauffeured by me in the manlac Prius to Amherst to visit James (their high school friend and mine since 1st grade) and Laura, his wife, this past weekend. Highlights of the weekend included HD using his pirate strength to hammer softballs over the fence at Smith College, venison burger bbq, ice cream at Herrell's, a night of Redneck Life, and blueberry picking, where Laura demonstrated her migrant worker abilities, picking 10 lbs of blueberries in the time it took me to pick less than half. That's ok though; since HD and I are roomies again, we walked away with over 10 lbs together. Due to the fact that we both love blueberries, we decided to put blueberries in our blueberries so we could eat blueberries while we ate blueberries and eventually converted those 10 lbs into blueberry crisp, blueberry lavender ice cream, blueberry lime salsa, blueberry papaya muffins and blue blueberry blueberries. Surprisingly, we didn't get sick of them. Blueberries, like me, are quite versatile and unbelievably delicious. Oh, also, it was great to see Laura and James.

HD steps up to bat; getting attacked by his own glove



Matt realizes spending hours in the sun without sunscreen is a bad idea; I got the St. Ides "gamepiece"

Playing Redneck Life; Laura showing off her picking skills

James, the blueberry monk of Amherst, with his preciouses; HD has James' shirt

Bountiful bounties

We Like You Very Much, Come Work For Us

I'm not sure if everyone has heard, but apparently we're in some type of recession or bad economy currently. I figured this out on my own after seeing just about no jobs to apply to, and getting rejected by all the ones I did. So I did what any photographer struggling to get by would do, and sold my soul to work for a children's portraiture studio. Irvin Simon, a well-known school portrait company that had taken my camp photos as a youth, was looking to hire photographers. Job requirements included knowing when to give a child a cheap plastic comb to fix his hair, making sure the child looked as uncomfortable and unnatural as possible, and being mildly to completely uninterested in all the proceedings. I applied for the position and received back the good news that they were "impressed with [my] resume and or resume." Excitement flooded me, as I was impressed by their clear commitment to handwriting and carefully screening all their emails. I called and left a number where they could reach me, but perhaps I didn't stress that I was a qualified applicant (I own a car).

The Year of the Prius

When HD moved back to Brooklyn, he needed to buy a car to get allll the way out to the magical kingdom of Parsippany, NJ. Due to his eco-conscious conscience, he ended up buying a tricked-out 2006 Prius. It came fully loaded with:

• A completely useless rear camera, for those times when turning your head around is just too much of a pain
• An annoying beep beep beep back up noise, usually made by large trucks that people are worried about being run over by, rather than 100 pound cars that fold up into your pocket
• Enough compartments to keep me occupied for about an hour in the car
• A tiny tv screen who's only channels are the "how many tiny cars of energy have I generated" and "am I using battery or gas right now" channels
• A manly lilac paintjob, or "manlac" for short

Bluberries and Things

Blueberries have been slow to ripen this year, due to the excess rain and light beams from one of Saturn's moons

My one remaining apricot was decently delicious

Clematis making itself right at home

American Sweet Pea will eventually produce pods that you don't want to eat

Carrots

Pulled up a carrot today, even though I should have left them in the soil longer. I couldn't resist. Once I pulled up one, I needed to pull up more to satisfy my curiosity. None of them were really ready. I could tell from the shape that they're getting blunted by the soil. Will have to add more sand and peat moss to the soil for next year. Some green beans growing and some blueberries are ripening, but only the carrots and some lettuce have made it inside so far.

From top to bottom: Scarlet Nantes, 2 Purple Dragons

African Street Festival

I love me some sorrel, plantains, black seed soap and bake, so I met up with HD and Kool Redd at the International African Arts Festival at Commodore Barry Park for the last day on Sunday.

HD looking suave shoveling jerked chicken into his mouth

Koolredd says no snitching rule isn't even suspended on major holidays

Happy Birthday Sis

Happy birthday to my younger, and only, sister who just hit the quarter-century mark. However, since she's half-alien, that's really only like 15, which is how she's forever memorialized in my mind.

Knicks Punk'd You!

In what could only be an early April Fool's joke or a possible prank from Punk'd, the New York Knicks traded Quentin "Roundface" Richardson to the Grizzlies for Darko Milicic. Despite being a non-playing member of the under-20 Championships team, Darko's stock rose when, at age 16, he joined Yugoslavia's top club team and proceeded to put up quite earthly numbers against middle-aged men and 7 year old boys. His competition most likely resembled the crowd at my local Turkish family-style restaurant. Drafted as the number 2 pick in the 2003 NBA ahead of Carmelo Anthony, Chris Bosh, Dwayne Wade, Shaq, Michael Jordan, the 1st round pick in the 2004 thru 2009 drafts and you, he has so far not lived up to expectations. All that is reckoned to change under Mike D'Antoni's "pretend you're European" offense, which either makes this a shrewd move by Donnie Walsh, or he really is a mole man like I suspected and living underground since 2002, when Milicic was an intriguing prospect. Oh Knicks, you got me again!

Strawberry Hunter Prime

Last Saturday, despite the overcast conditions, my family and I decided to trek out to the barren wastelands of Long Island to an organic strawberry farm. Yea, I'm calling you out, LI. You used to be a farming community, full of fresh produce and vineyards. Now all you produce is strip malls, pre-fab suburban communities with identical houses and these guys. But I digress.

I have an unusual allergy to strawberries, in that I can't eat them fresh without getting hives. Or I assume I still have it, as I was told about it when I was 4, and decided trying to disprove the theory while not inside a hospital was a bad idea. Towards this end, my mom forced me to wear plastic gloves that were 3 sizes too small to pick the berries. My mom quickly ran through the whole patch, declaring there were no strawberries anywhere except where she stood, and she may have knocked over a tiny child for picking berries in her area. My dad just took photos while my sister picked strawberries with decent acumen. I, never having seen a fresh strawberry before, was a little perplexed, but quickly learned how to hunt these clever creatures. Everyone had their quart buckets overflowing for hours as I quietly and deftly moved among the foliage, stalking only the most prime and delicious specimens for my bucket. I conscripted my sister as my assistant/co-host of my self-produced imaginary tv show, "The Strawberry Hunter." There can only be one.

Larry Larry Quite Contrary

How does my garden grow, you ask?
CHECK IT OUT FOOL!

Raised bed, made out of chopped down Alianthus, or tree of heaven, an invasive species.

Blackberries growing along the wall; being pollinated by a bee

Clematis Etoille Violette; blackberry blossoms

Zucchini blossoms close after the morning; orange day lillies, another invasive

Sugar snap peas growing along a trellis I made; asparagus turns into a tiny tree

Lavender

Me vs. You

I finally found someone I could compare myself against favorably pretty much every time. That's right, baby Maren, I'm calling you out. It's really your mom's fault, as she started bragging about how you were 10 pounds when you were born. Me? I'm 200. Solid muscle. That's 20 times your weight, baby Maren. TWENTY! What else am I better at than you?

1. I'm a better photographer.
2. I speak English more good than you.
3. I can walk. WHAT WHAT!
4. I'm a better basketball player than you.
5. Two words: origami swans.
6. I have a better grasp of technology and the internet than you.
7. I can stay awake more hours a day than you. Barely.
8. Two more words: solid food.
9. Ability to use toilet on own.
10. I cry less.

That's all I'm gonna say for now; I don't want you to get a complex. But that's only because I'm more thoughtful and kinder than you.

Wolverine Oranges

Think about it. They'd have sharp claws, and constantly regenerate. You could make UNLIMITED juice from them, I'd imagine! This is what HD heard when I told him I saw the new X-Men Origins: Wolverine movie...which conveniently leads me into a review of the film. You're welcome.

Marvel hasn't realized yet they need to consult Casey and myself before releasing a movie where they massacre our childhood heroes. What the hell are those exo-suits in GI Joe and why is there no Roadblock? Despite knowing there was a hobbit on the Weapon X team and in all likelihood Marvel messed up parts of the storyline, I was excited for the movie. A lot of whiny fanboys were whining that the interesting part of Wolverine's origins is how mysterious and confusing it is, so showing us the origins would foul all that up. Who cares? GAMBIT, YO! And Lynn Collins. Ain't nothing wrong with that! The movie was good, not X-Men 2 good (Colossus, Rebecca Romijn, daaaaaamn), but that all came crashing down in the last 15-20 minutes. List, please!

1. If you have Gambit in a movie, you best use him. A lot. Make him a good guy, make him bust ass, and throw lots of cards. All-american Friday Nights boy was not mysterious enough to play Remy LeBeau. Also, Cajuns have CAJUN accents, and say "mon ami" a lot. Check your facts, Gavin Hood.

2. Deadpool is the MERC WITH A MOUTH. Sewing his mouth shut defeats all that. Giving him Cyclops' eye lasers was stupid and unneccesary, as was Bradley Bolt's stupid ability so he could be controlled. How are they going to make a Deadpool movie, now that they killed him off? Everyone knows you can never ever ever bring comic book characters back from the dead.

3. There was NO reason for Cyclops to even be in the movie.

4. Patrick Stewart looked to be made of plastic at the end. O yea, spoiler alert. Patrick Stewart is in the end of the movie, and not as Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

5. Emma Frost can turn herself into diamond, NOT sequins. She looked like someone bedazzled her.

6. The whole end of the movie was made to spoon feed the viewer, so that everything nicely leads into X-Men 1. I felt the same way after watching the new Star Wars. It's ok to leave some things hanging. We're not idiots.

Paparazzo of Pretty Predators and Plants

For my birthday, my wonderful sister got me a gift certificate to Garden World, a planet just outside of Pluto and the place I'd choose to live, should I ever have to make an exodus from Earth. A lush and green planet, Garden World is home to a bazillion different plant species, from lowly (yet classy) Vinca Minor to huge maple trees, with all manner of perennials, annuals and fruits and veggies in between. There's gardening equipment to help maintain the local population, and all manner of contraptions to lure local birds to your parties. After hours of losing myself in the splendors, I finally settled on a Clematis Etoile Violette, a Reliance grape vine and a tupperware container of ladybugs.

Upon returning to my own home planet, I released the lady bugs in a massive swarm to help me combat my growing aphid problem. After some initial hesitation to leave my hands and arms, they've spread out and laid eggs, which in turn have become larvae, which, like tiny crocodiles devour the aphids and protect my apricot tree. I tried to take pictures of these alien species, but unfortunately, the ladybugs hate paparazzi.

Movin' On Up

After a year and a couple months, James Cash is abandoning our happy home for the chance to live with his girlfriend. He assures me it's not cause she's prettier than me, but I have my doubts. This means I need a new roommate by the end of the month. I'd prefer one with the initials JC, as I've gotten quite used to running around the house singing "James Cash, James Cash, what ya gonna do, what ya gonna do when...," but this appears to be unlikely. While Pris' offer of exiling her messy brother to Brooklyn and the possibility of crazy folks on Craigslist sounds appealing, I've decided the best course of action was to trick HD into moving back in.* Using my wit and wiles like Mr. E. Coyote, I came up with the following great reasons for the Human Dynamo to move back to Brooklyn:

1. He'll have a 40 inch flat screen TV (that is his and he'll be able to share with me).

2. Driving from Brooklyn to Parsippany, New Jersey everyday at 6 AM is fun. Who doesn't like rush hour traffic or rubbing sleep out of your eyes in time to avoid hitting a Miata?

3. Driving from Brooklyn to Parsippany, NJ (and back again) everyday at 6 AM is much more convenient than having his boss pick him up in Jersey City.

4. We'll have two XBox 360's, which means we can play 8 player Gears of War 2 on our new large TV.

5. Everything's in Russian!

6. We can go on double dates with Hasidic twins!

*Second best course. First best was to turn the downstairs room into a grizzly bear or polar bear hangout spot.

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