Dinner Theater

I sometimes have the luxury of seeing movies in the middle of the day due to my erratic schedule. Yesterday I went to see a thriller called "Donkey Punch" at one of art houses here in NYC. The guy sitting in front of me was a head case. First he opened his backpack and took out THREE sandwiches, which he lined up on the seat next to him. Then he took out a Big Gulp cup, which seemed to have ice in it. Weird. Then, he took out a bottle of Coke and poured it into the Big Gulp cup. He then placed the lid on the cup, opened a straw, poked it in and drank. He nibbled on the sandwiches throughout the film, and every time a character said something that seemed important, he "noted" it by pointing at the screen for a few seconds. He continued to eat, pour and point during the 90 minute film. And at the end of the film, he left all of his leftovers on the floor.

Hadn't he ever heard of sharing?

Backhanded

I overheard one employee telling another employee at Whole Foods, "I like how you think. I just don't like you."

I assume they will be dating in a few weeks.

Truckin'

You know how sometimes an 18-wheeler will have a ratty stuffed animal pinned to the grill? Well, today I saw a homeless guy pushing a shopping cart with a battered Shrek doll lassoed to the front. 

We do what we can.

Furry

I live in the fur district. The other day I saw a little man in a big white fur standing on the corner hawking the wares of his store by yelling out to a couple of guys walking by, "Get a warm fur coat for your cold women!"

Not sure he was aware of his double entendre.

A Penny Saved

Today I overheard the "local" homeless person say to a guy on line at the deli, "You can't live your life worrying about every penny."

Sometimes, we need to take our own advice. Other times, we should ignore it.

Hunches

On the train yesterday, I saw a very pretty young blonde girl reading. There was something special about her careful choice of foundation and false eyelashes. Her golden locks were frozen into place. And she wore black. She would glance down at her book, and then look up and close her eyes. Then back to reading, then back up to the heavens of the A train. Down and up. Down and up. I had a hunch ... and it was confirmed when I walked past her upon exiting the train. She was an actress, memorizing her part in "The Tragedy of Macbeth."

I'm not so interested in seeing that production.

All Day Affair

Yesterday was the inauguration of Barack Obama, and it was a long day. As the events unfolded on CNN, it was clear that Barack and his family were very busy. Plus, they had to move into the White House that night and sleep there for the first time!

I wondered when and if they had time to brush their teeth in between all those meals. When was there time to take a leak? Walk the dog? Change their Facebook status?! 

I really thought about this. I mean, that family was shuttled around from the wee hours of the morning until way past midnight. From speeches, to ceremonies, to cavalcades, to lunches, to dinners, to balls ... and all that hand-shaking! How does Barack not get a cold? I get a cold if I take the subway on a rainy day.

I don't know how they all made it through that day. Those little freezing girls, Malia and Sasha. The heels on Michelle. So much in and out, running around, and so much to do!

If I have more than three appointments in one day, I have to take the previous day off to rest-up, and the next day off to recoup. If I have a Presidential Ball to go to (or even a BYOB party on the Lower East Side) I need to take the whole day off to "prepare." If I was moving into a new home, I wouldn't be able to sleep the night before 'cause I'd be so nervous with excitement and fear. Heck, if I was being inaugurated into the Presidency of the "Pork Chop Fan Club" I wouldn't be able to sleep the night before. Did the Obama's sleep the night before the big day? How?

And then Barack has the nerve to go to work the next day.  He's just gonna plop himself down at the Presidential desk in the Oval Office and just start working. Just like that! Let me tell ya, if I had a full day like an inauguration day, you better  believe I'd be spending the next day in bed. Not running the country.

You go, Obama! You go! And if you can figure out a way to bottle your miracle energy elixir, please make it available at my local Duane Reade.

Shout Out

This morning, I posted that I had laryngitis on Facebook and that I was on vocal rest. No less than five people called me to see how I was doing. I stopped picking up the phone after the third call. I still can't make a sound, and I would imagine that would make many of my friends very happy.

Milk It

A few blocks away from my apartment is the St. Francis of Assisi Church, so it's not unusual to see a Franciscan Friar in the neighborhood establishments. 

One Halloween, a robed friar rang up my order at the local Barnes and Noble. I told him his costume was very authentic, and he told me it wasn't a costume.

The other day, I stopped into the local Starbucks (only because I had a gift card I had to use) and observed a friar in the corner, reading a book, which is typical. They don't chat much. He was reading "The Mayor of Castro Street." 

I wanted to ask him if he'd seen the movie "Milk", 'cause I've never seen a monk at the movies, especially a gay-themed movie, but decided to order a Venti Peppermint Mocha Twist Frappucinno instead. 

With extra milk.

Rocked?

On the hit NBC show "30 Rock", most of the main characters are played by well-known actors. Occasionally, there are guest stars on the show like Jennifer Aniston, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane and Carrie Fisher. These guests play new characters, not themselves. They are never confused with their real life doppelgangers.

But at other times, the guest star celebrities play themselves: Whoopi Goldberg, Conan O'Brien, Oprah, and even Mayor Bloomberg. They are viewed by the characters on the show as their real-life selves.

This confuses me.

Why don't the characters who work at the very real 30 Rockefeller Center on "TGS with Tracy Jordan" know that they are competing with a very famous sketch show called "Saturday Night Live", which is taped in the same real building? 

Why do the characters recognize Jerry Seinfeld as Jerry Seinfeld when he shows up on the set, but they don't recognize Selma Hayek as Selma Hayek when she shows up?

How can Rachel Dratch (who was on SNL) play several different characters on 30 Rock, but no one on "TGS with Tracy Jordan" recognizes her as the character she played the week before or as "that funny dwarf-gal from SNL?" Nor do they recognize the actor playing Tracy Jordan as Tracy Morgan, whose name sounds an awful lot like the actor who was on SNL?

It's like in horror movies. After the buxom blonde takes a shower in a creepy hotel and hears a strange noise in the closet, she cautiously approaches it -- as if she's never seen a horror movie before. "No! Don't go into that closet! The killer is in there!"

Doesn't matter. Characters in TV shows and movies don't have TV's or watch movies.

And that's a little confusing.

Bad Guy

I'm waiting for my flight home at Tokyo's Narita Airport and this tipsy American guy in the Admiral's Lounge stops me because he thinks I'm the actor who played the bad guy in the Matrix films. I assure him that I'm not Hugo Weaving, but thank him for the "compliment" and introduce myself.

He goes on to tell me about his mother who was a famous dancer with Jerome Robbins, and about his former teen-idol status in Japan, and then he shows me many pictures of his children, who are clearly Asian-American. 

I ask him what he's doing in Tokyo and why he's flying back to New York and he says, "It takes years to exonerate yourself from a Japanese wife who's changed her mind about you."

Not quite the answer I was looking for, but I was suddenly aware that this guy, Cy, would be talking my ear off for the next hour if I didn't exonerate myself from his table. "Sorry, Cy, I have to send an email!"

I'm a bad guy.

Funny how when in a foreign land, I often seek other people to relate to and converse with, but how I did everything in my power to distance myself from any sort of conversation with this lonely man. 

I'm a bad guy.

As I boarded the plane via the business class line, I saw Cy in the standby line. I was sad for him, but relieved that he wouldn't be sitting next to me on the 12 hour flight home. 

I'm a bad guy. 

He made the flight, and gave me the thumbs' up upon boarding. When we landed at JFK, he called out "Welcome home, Prince Peter", and then proceeded to show his family photos and share his story to every jet lagged stranger at the baggage claim.

I'm a smart guy.

Sad Times

My career counselor, who's been helping me find work and new career choices during these difficult times, got laid off today ... because of cut backs. What's a guy to do?