Some Junkies Have the Worst Luck!

There are a a lot of addictions. You've got the major ones: namely, drugs and alcohol. Then you've got the lesser ones: choco-holism, shop-oholism and a stronger than normal fondness for argyle. Robert Palmer famously sang of being "addicted to love" - an addiction that led to his untimely death in 2003 (although the press reported the cause to be a heart attack).
But of all the addictions, gambling has to be the shittiest and least gratifying. Think about it - if you're addicted to crack (and if you were honest with yourself, you'd realize that you are), it sucks - but you do what you need to do and you get some crack and you're set. (Most crackheads get money through one of the "3 Bs" - Breaking & Entering, Blowjobs, and Bake sales)
Bottom line, though their addiction gets fed....for, like, 8 minutes - but that's not the point.
With gambling, though, the pay-off isn't gambling, it's winning! So, unlike crack, where you KNOW you're going to get high after you smoke it (trust me!), when you start gambling, there's no guarantee you'll win. So for a gambling addict, not only aren't you getting your "fix," you're losing money the whole time! It's the double whammy!
At least with my addiction to Freecell, the only one losing money is my employer. And that kid I hustled and eventually strangled.

It's a Hell of a Town!

As I was walking towards the subway turnstiles yesterday, I saw this black butterfly floating around, maybe 15 feet ahead of me. As I got closer, there was a guy walking towards me and the butterfly actually landed on his shoulder, right on the strap of his messenger bag. It lingered for a second or two before flying off again - and while the guy was completely oblivious to the whole thing, an MTA worker standing by him freaked a bit, because, I guess, it flew pretty close to him when it took of.
And I thought it was really beautiful and cool - because I couldn't remember if I'd ever even seen a butterfly in N.Y. before. And I felt that way for about a nanosecond, before I had my Crying Game moment of realizing that although I hadn't seen black butterflies in NY before, I HAD seen plenty of giant flying cockroaches. And I got the fuck out of there without even looking back to see if that massive roach was devouring that transit worker's face.
And I realize that the subway experience is basically a combination of the worst parts of urban living and the worst parts of nature. Where else can you can get attacked by a guy with a knife AND a cockroach the size of a bowtie.
On the plus side if that happened, The Post would have the delightful headline, "Mugged and Bugged!"

Important Spam!

I got a spam today and the subject line was "We Cure Any Desease!" And what's great is that although they're clearly the finest minds in medicine and have achieved a truly miraculous feat, they're still just no damn good at spelling. This morning, when they had their huge breakthrough and finally found the cures for ALL of the world's diseases (I'm guessing lyme disease was that last hold-out), someone probably suggested they spell check their announcement before mass-mailing everyone on their email contact list. And the head scientist of this think tank slammed down his beaker, dramatically whipped off his glasses and said, "Damn it, there's no TIME! People are DYING!"
Oh, and be sure to check MySpace for the solution to that world hunger thing. Exciting times, people!

I want to write TV theme songs!

I was thinking about the theme song for "Happy Days" and it's got to be one of the all-time stupidest. Think about it - "Sunday, Monday - Happy Days! Tuesday, Wednesday Happy Days! Thursday, Friday Happy Days!"
That's catchy and all, but all it's saying is, "These days of the week? They're Happy! The next days? Happy too!"
And it's even worse if the "Happy Days" in the song is just supposed to be referencing the title of the show. It's like a retarded kid who loved Happy Days rewrote the "One Two Buckle My Shoe" song. Just try plugging in the title of another show and you'll see just how dumb and generic it is. I like these ones:

Sunday, Monday _________

"Who's the Boss?"
"Facts of Life"

"Charles in Charge"

"L.A. Law"

"C.S.I."

"Primetime Live"
"Dr. Phil"

Grab a TV Guide and get crackin'!

Can I die a young genius?

I turned 27 over the weekend - which means that if I want to be remembered as a gifted, tortured genius, I have to die in the next 12 months. Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Basquiat and Jim Morrison all died at 27 . Their work broke major ground - until they turned 27 - at which point their coffins broke major ground. The only problem is, I'm not a daredevil, I don't abuse liquor or drugs, I'm not having tons of dangerous sex (although my technique has been described as both clumsy and awkward). So my end will most likely be of the Mama Cass-choking-on-a-sandwich variety. So, start hoarding my work now - and try to contain your excitement when you see me going into Au Bon Pain.