So I’m known as a straight bro in most circles. However its not really me, I’ve known for awhile that I’m gay. The problem is I really like a bro from college, and by like I mean as more than just as a bro. As far as I know he is straight, he doesn’t set off my radar if you know what I mean. Do I…
The good Doctor perscribes a little righteousness.
It is important for you to understand that, unless you hold season tickets or play on a football team, your exposure to the sport is more properly described as “watching television.” You may love football, but what you do all weekend long is watch television. The majority of women see watching television all day Saturday and Sunday as ridiculous, and fantasy football - don’t even ask about fantasy football.
If you are a football addict (college on Saturday, pro on Sunday, Sunday Night Football, Monday Night Football) remember that you will likely need to compromise if you want a real relationship with a woman.
Apparently I don’t have a girlfriend because I watch football on Sunday afternoons instead of going to the Guggenheim or hanging out at a Starbucks all day. Seriously, those are alternative activities suggested in the article.
Click through to see the advice for women, which is just as hilariously bad. Not quite WOMEN BE SHOPPIN’, but it doesn’t disappoint.
Holy crap, someone better tell my about-to-be-wife that she doesn’t exist. Do me a favor, though, don’t tell her on Sunday. Don’t want her tears distracting me from watching football.
Just got off a conference call with the resort where we had planned to be married in three weeks. The aftermath:
E: You can be really nasty when you’re angry
Me: That’s sort of the point of being angry, isn’t it? Otherwise it would be called being happy, and getting nasty with them would have made no sense
Me: Guess I just proved your point
Roughly 30 years ago I was in NYC for the first time, out on the town with my Father. He took me to dinner at the original Palm restaurant. It’s an informal old school Italian steakhouse on the east side. That night I ate with my hero and had as good a meal as I’ll ever have in my lifetime for so many different reasons. The food alone isn’t the best, but it is the best to be had for what it’s trying to be. I’ve had countless better meals that were superior due to refinement. Having Chef Jamison personally design an omakase for you at Morimoto is enough to make you forget you ever tasted red meat. But I do love steak, and The Palm does as good a job as anyone when you’re talking steakhouse. I’ve been fortunate enough to dine there many dozens of times since and I did once more tonight with my old buddy and frequent companion at those meals, Rich. Lovely as always. Took some pics for the first time, apologize for their darkness. I didn’t want to use a flash and ruin anyone else’s dinner.
Thanks to everyone who has reached out about the whole wedding disaster I’m dealing with. I’m actually not sweating it. Kicking ass and solving problems is what I do for a living, so I’m confident we’ll sort it out. Anyway, I’m going to The Palm for a nice prime steak and some cold vodka tonight with an old friend. Life aint bad at all.
…but today may be an exception. Three weeks out from our wedding, the resort just called and asked if we want to cancel. Apparently the recent hurricane eroded the beach significantly, and they plan to have a barge dredging sand and spraying it on the beach. The same beach were we are supposed to be getting married on. At the same time we are supposed to be getting married. This may end really, really badly for someone.
I fought hard to not answer the question, but my babydoll insisted we play “The List” game. If you haven’t played, it’s when two halves of a couple declare that if they have the chance to sleep with someone famous, they get to list five that their partner must allow to happen given the opportunity.
Here, therefore, is my list, in no particular order:
I knew there was something about this guy that I didn’t like. With his silly pompadour and lame tattoos he always struck me as trying a little too hard. Now, in today’s Daily News, a quote from Mr. Iuzzini about egg creams: “It’s essentially chocolate syrup, ice cream, soda water and sometimes milk”.
Wrong. Very wrong.
An egg cream is never made with ice cream. Never. It’s always made with milk, and the good ones are made with a jug of milk that has been sitting in a pail of ice water to keep it extra cold. Also, anyone with half a clue would specify U-Bet chocolate syrup, as that is the correct ingredient to use. So take your greasy ass dippity-do pompadour, your shitty tattoos, and the rest of your olive oil smelling self and move the hell out to Vegas already. The New York, New York casino is about as authentically New York as you are, ya big fake.
Dan Dierdorf is giving a clinic in bad announcing today
After Eli Manning threw a left-handed shuffle pass for an easy interception, Dierdorf complimented him on avoiding the sack. Just now Cortland Finnegan had his helmet ripped off, resulting in a presonal foul call against the Giants. Dierdorf noted that the helmet was off and criticized Finnegan for removing it, commenting that he should be penalized for doing so. You should pretty much assume that exactly the opposite of whatever Dierdorf says is true.
Looking for a nice pair of suspenders to hold the pants up on my wedding suit. I already own a few pair but I’m looking for something special. Here’s the thing that’s bothering me: the fact that there is a bar in New York City named “Suspenders”. Worse yet, the realization that there are bars all over the country with the same name. They generally have some sort of faux Gay 90’s branding thing going on. That involves some combination of straw boater hats, waxed moustaches and broad striped red and white shirts. Here’s my question to you: Would you ever drink in a bar like this? Would anyone you know drink in a bar like this? Are there any possible circumstances in which you might be opening a bar and decide to go with a Gay 90’s theme? WTF am I missing here?
And I’m home alone doing wedding planning/organizing type stuff. I’m actually really enjoying it, but still. There is a tiny little corner of my brain, sitting behind a heavily locked and reinforced door. Behind that door is a younger me, who desperately wants to run out and punch me in the face and tell me to stop being such a frigging loser. I’m cool with keeping that door locked but can’t forget that it’s there.
Starts earlier every year. Today’s invites are “Let Me In”, “Waiting for Superman” and “Shutter Island”. The director and Chloe Moritz are doing a q and a after the first one so I may go to that despite my misgivings over remaking an already good film. The Shutter Island invite promises a q and a after with ‘The filmmakers” which is a giant cocktease because no way in hell Marty is showing up for that. Waiting for Superman is a must-see so I’ll hit that for sure.
You have an Oscar. You have a gorgeous wife and healthy child. You were blessed with a ridiculous body and those chiseled, leading man looks. Now you went and made an unbelievably good movie, where you not only directed yourself into a great performance but also got the best out of Jeremy Renner and Blake frigging Lively ferchrissakes. Fuck you for doing it so well.