Thoughts while mildly under the influence of schedule 2 narcotics

I would rather find a fool than miss a genius.

It's been too long, and Boston is dominating Sports, which is annoying

Hello ladies and gentlemen. See, when I address my readers like there are thousands of them, it makes it appear like I actually have a lot of readers. I think it is bogus and probably only a couple of my close buddies read this, but people keep telling me that they actually read this shit, so I guess I should continue to update it. I am writing on my old computer since Rebecca's old computer is all fucked up and I can't get the Internet on it.

It has been a while, but why I haven't been updating my blog is less important than what has been going on in my absence. The Celtics have started manhandling the Eastern Conference, the Patriots have continued to dominate the NFL even after the Colts made them seem mortal, and I have started to settle into my sales position, which has a two fold consequence: 1) I am becoming more comfortable with my co-workers, which means I can hopefully start pranking them. 2) I have no more time left pretending that I am doing anything different than I was doing in DC last month.

I realized I was stuck in the same melange of apathy as I was in the mansion. The only difference now: I have different friends who are around me on a daily basis; although, Renews, much to my dissatisfaction, is always out of town, and my girl is with me. I only see her at night on weekdays, but it is worth it. So, I spend my time wondering how I got here. I also spend way too much time on that G-Chat shit with Voldemort, Boston, and my girl. I also want to give some props to some people that probably don't even read this, but whom I speak with via g-chat: Moose and her roommate whom I will call LI (because aside from my close personal friends, he is the only chill person you ever meet from Long Island). Props.


THE CELTICS ARE BACK
Back to the last two exciting weeks in sports, and then I will conclude with an explanation of the picture headlining this entry, and also talk about other events that transpired over the last two weeks. The Boston Celtics look really really good. That might even be an understatement. I am going to go into hyperbole mode here, but I think they are the class of the Eastern Conference and maybe even the NBA. Ray Allen is actually playing defense, Paul Pierce is happy because he is still the Alpha Dog in the locker room, and Garnett (the most selfless of the three) is just happy to finally be winning again. Let's talk about all three individually, and then I will get into why they seem to be complimenting each other so well.

Ray Allen is smooth. Everything he does reminds me of a very talented ballet dancer, except in this case he is an off-guard in the National Basketball Association. His shot is not actually technically correct; he shoots sort of a flat ball with little spin, but he gets it off so effortlessly, that he actually appears to have better form and technique than he actually does. I remember watching him play as a Freshman on a very good Connecticut Huskies team, and he was a player you knew would be excellent. He is a a legitimate all-star with the ability to win a game all by himself. A lot of this is forgotten since he was traded from Milwaukee where he led a triumvirate of Alien Sam Cassel and Big Dog Robinson to the semi-finals of the Eastern Conference. Not exactly hall of fame material, but in the running. He is considered by some, and not without merit, to be a little soft. He will settle for a jump shot when a drive to the lane might hurt him. He is also injury prone, which might account for the apprehensiveness about driving to the bucket. He is a very good player, and a lot of people forgot he lead the Sonics to the Western Conference semi-finals two years ago, on a terrible Seattle team that he carried on his back the whole time. Last year he was injured most of the year, or at least ailing. People just forgot how good a player he can be in a good situation.

Paul Pierce is from Inglewood, and for anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the last ten years, that is not the nicest place to grow up. He's street tough (Melo and Iverson come to mind); although, he isn't a knucklehead like Ron Artest. He cut his chops with Kansas, which also featured a dominate Raef Lafrentz, but who cares about white stiffs who got injured in the NBA. Point being, Paul Pierce is a tough guy. Right before the season in 2000 he was stabbed 11 times in front of a Boston nightclub. He returned in time to start all 82 games, and two years later, teamed with Antoine Walker, he made the Eastern Conference finals. He will take the big shot, and has good three-point range; although, I would say that Allen is the better 3-pt shooter. Pierce does not hesitate to go to hole, and he has been a pretty good teammate for his career, leaving the superficial three-point attempts to the Fatty known as Antoine Walker. He can seem a bit slow on offense and defense, but he is wily and strong and a classic go to guy (someone who relishes taking the last shot). Like all three Celtics superstars he is in the down-turn of his career, he is still one of the best players in the league and should start in the Eastern Conference all star squad in February.

Kevin Garnett is going to go to the Hall of Fame. That is assured. He has been arguably the best player in the league for the last decade (I would not say that, but you could argue it, he is the most consistent reliable offensive and . He is a physical freak, who is around seven feet tall, and with almost three-point range, and the wiry strength that only other skinny guys recognize, and husky guysmiss to theier detriment. He is a force. An absolute force, that becomes so intense during games, I literally think he is going to have a blood vessel pop in his shaved dome. His eyes come out of their sockets, and his almost gaunt skin becomes even more pronounced against his scalp. It reminds me of a battle-tested warrior going in for one last hurrah. Problem is, he is in the best shape of his career and no one works harder. It almost seems to lull him into the sense that you always have to give 100%, which is great in theory, but over 82 games is very difficult. Best part of his work out regime is that it is based in Malibu. Picture a seven foot tall basketball player sculpted in the cauldron of a great artist, with a shaved skull and a wispy goatee running along the perfectly white beaches of Malibu. Yes, I am laughing as I write this. The mental image is priceless (alas I do not have the patience to look up the picture of it on the Internet--feel free to find it yourself--I could not).

The only downside to Kevin Garnett, other than being drafted by the abysmal GM Kevin McHale who could never put a good team around him, is that he might be too intense. Part of the problem with the NBA is the length of the season--82 games is almost three times as many as college students play--and the best teams: San Antonio, Phoenix, Detroit etc all play for the playoffs, not to win the league. They know they are playing for almost a 100 games if they are lucky. Garnett never learned how to take games off. He only knows how to go 100% all the time. That can take a toll on a body, and a lot of analysts blame that hyper-competitiveness on his being bounced from the playoffs in the 1st round for 7 straight seasons. Garnett is only 31, but he has been in the league for 12 years, and logged a lot of minutes. He never took one of those minutes off. One year, Garnett got lucky and received a rejuvenated Alien Sam Cassell, and an energetic (not lounging on a yacht in Milwaukee?) Latrell Sprewell, and he got them all the way to the Western Conference Finals where they eventually lost to that stacked and bickering Lakers team that lost to Detroit with an injured Mail Man and a lethargic Glove. Anyway, he led them there because Cassell and Sprewell were ready to play and help him. That was it for him though, and the next year when they failed to make the playoffs and Cassell was once again plagued by injuries, they traded both help players the year after. Garnett hasn't been to the playoffs since that magical run to the big time. It was time for McHale to do another favor for Boston.

This past summer put them together, and the Boston faithful were rejoicing. Why shouldn't they? Forget how it happened (I still think Ainge isn't good, but landing Garnett was incredible). All three players have something to prove, they are still young enough to play like the couple of years ago they were in their prime. All of them are willing to sacrifice in order for their team to win. Garnett said that Pierce should be introduced last even though Garnett is probably the most important player on the team, and the only reason this team has a chance to win it all. Garnett and Allen talked and it seems they have both agreed to take the back seat to Pierce since this is his team.

Selflessness only gets you so far, but it is obvious that these three divergent players have bonded much faster than anyone gave them a chance too. They all know this is it, and that the next two years will determine whether they are champions, or whether they will forever be labeled as Barkley, Malone, McGrady etc the list goes on and on of the star players who never won a championship. Now what happens when you put three together? So far, the results speak for themselves: the Celtics were the only undefeated NBA team remaining until Sunday night against a scrappy Magic squad that is 8-2 themselves. It seems to be working though they are playing a lot of minutes (about 38 min/gm for each of them), Garnett is more psyched than ever, and the Western Conference is still favored by far. In a suddenly interesting Eastern Conference, the Celtics are my pick for the title seriees this year. Cleveland doesn't have the pieces around Bron Bron (and he'll be a Knick in three years), Detroit only has a couple of more years in them with this squad, but they are all getting old and losing interest after already winning their title, Miami is a mess and might not even make the playoffs, Washington is still coming back from injuries and never plays defense, Chicago is still in limbo and probably will be for a while over Kobe Bryant trade questions. john Paxson screwed the pooch not getting that done. The Celtics will win 60 games and the Eastern Conference. The only question left, as far as I am concerned, is whether they will beat the Western representative.
The Three Amigos



THE BILLS WILL BEAT THEM AGAIN ONE DAY

The New England Patriots defeated my team as everyone who has a brain could have concluded. My respects to Shawnie Mac who was at the game, but I was holed up at my tiny cramped NYC apartment, playing with Brett Favre and watching my Bills get annihilated. To be fair, Marshawn Lynch was down with an ankle injury, but it wouldn't have mattered if he wasn't:

Lynch in better days


Papawawa and Renews were chilling, and they patted (forgive my pun) my back as the Patriots scored their fifth touchdown of the first half. Randy Moss ran around like it was a practice and basically scored whenever he felt like running by our entire secondary (I don't even think Primetime Deion could have stopped him). Brady was pinpoint with his accuracy, and splayed the ball all over the field to his weapons. He didn't have receivers last year, now he is showing why I would always choose him over Peyton every day of the week and twice on Sundays. They are an offensive juggernaut, and the scariest thing about this team is that they lost their top two running backs to start the season. A geriatric Kevin Faulk has been getting the rare carries. Maroney is slowly coming back Defenses know that they are gonna throw, but it just doesn't matter. Brady sits in the pocket with all the time in the world, and picks every defense apart whenever he wants.

The Patriots scored every time they touched the ball in the first half. Every time! And then after halftime, they came out and scored again! It was embarrassing to be a Bills fan. Just embarrassing. They are not a bad team at all. Belicheck himself mentioned before the game that we could have just as easily been 7-2 entering this game if we hadn't blown the Denver game in the opening week, and Dallas on the Monday night meltdown. We are second in the division by three games, but New England is doing this to everyone.

I am gonna stop licking the Patriots and Celtics balls. The Sawx already got a World Series, they do not appear to be the only Boston team that is gonna win one. I don't know what to say. Voldemort and Boston had better be very careful on how they address me when I go down to DC for the Bills game. There is only so much Boston dominance I can take before I snap and start hurling things in the vicinity of ALL those Boston banners. Sonofabitch, I am getting pissed just mentioning that. Anyway, I am gonna stop my masochistic sports writing, and conclude with some tidbits from the big apple.

This past weekend, I got together with Renews, Mary Jane Jr, K, Papawawa, my girl, and me. Also, Renews Clues brother stopped by this bar Sessions on Friday night. Those who like too, were playing catch with Brett Favre, and I even played with him in the middle of the couch where we were sitting in the back of the club. It was pretty sketchy, but hey, it's NYC, and I can be sketchy. Sessions was pretty cool. When we first hopped in (trust me we were hopping at this point), I was thinking that it looked like any other bar in NYC should: women who looked a little older than 18 wearing clothes they didn't know how to wear, dancing like a spastic monkey's genitalia and a losing brain cells in the process, as they guzzled Appletini's and Vodka Tonics. The dance floor provoked my usual reaction of laughter and endless comments about CRD. Getting a drink was very easy, which was nice for an E73rd St bar

Papawawa informed me as he was playing with Brett in the bathroom, that he spoke with the bathroom attendant, and the bathroom attendant was writing a screenplay in this cramped little cubbyhole room. Papawawa talked to this aspiring David Lynch. I read some of of it as I was washing my hands. Not bad--it's a horror movie, and I was the first time I remember thinking "only in NYC." We drank and drank and drank. It was the first time I got to really get wasted and since Brett was in play, there was no chance I would turn into Colin (not sure why that is but it is another reason why Brett Favre is the best QB in history).
The only other thing I remember is having really intense conversations with everyone in our group--another Brett attribute--one I do not like.

Well, I was gonna wake up early Saturday morning with my girl and go into the village to see more of the city, but I slept until one since it was such a long night. We ended up sitting around the apartment for a few hours as I lazily showered and did the necessary steps to leave the apartment. On the way out, I determined that I was going to get a P-Coat (yes, we did recently watch Boondock Saints, and yes, I want to be them--sans the creepy religiosity) After I got a P-Coat somewhere in Soho (I look at a map all day, and can still never figure out anything south of Houston St. Remember readers, in NYC it is pronounced: House Ton. Not the city in Texas. After an expensive coat purchase, we strolled in comfort to Little Italy.



Little Italy is very little. It seems to be just stretch a few blocks along Mulberry St, but everything seems pretty cool and authentic to an uncouth degenerate, who has never been there like me. Papawawa recommended Novella's on Grand and Mulberry, but my girl had always eaten with her family at Puglia's on Mulberry and Hester Streets, and I didn't disagree (Ginapaps we are going next time). Puglia's was lovely. Checkered table cloths, huge families of Italians, slicked hair everywhere, Yankees caps on every adolescent boys head, and the greatest smells of all time.

The highlight of our dinner was the TV camera's scurrying around behind me and right in front of my girl. It was Making the Band IV--Diddy's Reality Show on MTV with an all female group. Much to our chagrin, Diddy was not present, but the camera's were, and they made quite an influence on the woman who was to be Puglia's local talent. A middle-aged woman with a strange cocktail dress draped in silver which highlighted her bony back, was trying to get the microphone to work. My girl and I had fun imagining what the TV girls were saying and I was making fun of their completely overdone make-up (which is coincidentally not out of place in Little Italy), and we watched this woman try unsuccessfully to operate the microphone and get it to work. It was hysterical, but looking back it was kinda sad. Here were these trampy looking women from MTV getting all this camera attention, and you could tell this might be the only time this woman was on TV, and she couldn't get the mic to work. My girl and I were enjoying Chicken Parmesan and Penne with Shrimp Vodka, and our cheap Merlot, and having a grand time. As we were leaving, this woman got the microphone on and started to sing: "Be Se Me Mucho"[sic] and my girl loves that song, so we finished our wine, and listened and left. I am not a very romantic person, but that was one of the best meals I have ever had, and the ambiance was sublime (hahahahahaahah--don't worry I wrote that ironically--I won't become one of those people who writes like a virgin trying to fuck).


The white girls were not very attractive in person--the black women were pretty hot

It was incredible, and we left smooching and walking along Mulberry towards the subway. Met up with Mary Jane Jr, and Renews who were also finishing their meal, and we went to see Michael Clayton. We had wanted to see Darjeeling Limited, but it was sold out for every viewing. I couldn't believe it. It came out like a month ago, and yet it was still sold out? Must be a New York Thing.

Until next time peeps. Remember the morals of this post: Boston is a sports mecca this year, but that doesn't excuse Masshole behavior. Brett Favre rocks...in moderation. My girl is amazing and so are my friends in both Rochester, New York, DC, and even way out in Cali, but New York is New York--ain't no other place like it in the world.


And too conclude this post--I am giving a special shout out to Wilshun aka William Wallace, who needs to call my ass so I can talk NBA--since Vladdy lives in Jersey City and never makes it over. That creepy picture is also my background Wilshun--its strangely like an acid flashback. Also, how can you not love that picture of Witty in the opening--thanks to Papawawa for that find

I had to delete the picture because I do not want people to see pictures of my friends--sorry William Wallace, but it's for your own good.



DiBlasi Out

NYC continued

I sat next to a Tranny today on the subway. Well, I should say that I sat across from a Tranny, or maybe it was just an extremely gay man who decided to dress like a woman. Either way it reminded me of my old neighborhood when I lived in a mansion. New York is similar to DC...except that it is about 100x as big, and I don't live in the gayest neighborhood in town.

Some other things I figured out today. Ace Deli near E 28th St where I work, does not make very large sandwiches. It's not so much that they skimp you on the meat, but it is not what I thought NYC Deli's offered after Rubey grilling me on the finer points of Deli's(?) in NYC.

I have been in training the last three days, and have ingested coffee and red bull to stay awake for it all. It seems to be very similar to my old company. Why do sales departments make it so difficult to actually complete the sale? It's like the government. Nothing is getting done, and people do not have jobs unless there are miles upon miles of red tape. When did bureacracy become the new menial job, and why has it infiltrated American (and British) businesses? It is completely counterproductive to making deals and making money for yout company; yet companies swear by them. I will never understand this.

Wanted to mention a few things about my first weekend in NYC that I was too tired to mention before. Papawawa and Renews joined me at the bar next to my building for Sunday's epic football day. Buffalo beat Cincinnati going away, the Jets lost another nail biter against the 'Skins, New England cemented their place as the best team in the league, but not before Indianapolis stirred things up a bit with a ten point lead in the 4th quarter. Adrian Peterson (yes, I have him on my fantasy squad) rushed for more years in a single game than any back in NFL history and he is a rookie. Rounding out the AFC East, and Miami has their most productive weekend with a bye, which means they did not lose again.

The bar by my place is actually great for watching football. The front area appears to be a small room surrounding a single bar, but there are two other rooms stacked with TV's and plenty of room, plus, there is an out door patio area to go smoke. All in all a great place for Sundays and me and Papa have already reserved our booth for next week. I actually met a Bills fan in our booth (he was wearing a Lee Evans jersey), and he was really nice and enthusiastic about our chances for the playoffs this year, since we have won 3 in a row, and we are second in the lowly conference at 4-4. Rewnews mentioned that the kid is probably gay though since a "friend" of his showed up, and Renews caught the kid rubbing his back covertly. The kids the parents were there, so I wonder whether they know about his lifestyle choice. No bother, I will still chill with him next week since he knows his football, and ordered me a shot after Marshawn Lynch scored on an unbelievable scamper in the 4th quarter to seal the victory. Lynch might be the best young running back in the league not named Adrian.

I like that the Bills have a homosexual following. It makes our small market team appear more worldly, and the kid I met at the bar was really cool. I hope I see him next week, but the only people I want rubbing my back are my girl and all the fellas I went to college with. I was thinking of the strange similarities between this kids behavior and my friends. We fuck around all the time with faux homosexual references, and no one seems to take us seriously. Why is that? Do we just appear Hetero? Anyway, it was a great week, and I look forward to writing more tonight. Props to Wilshun because the Knicks looked amazing last night against a tough Denver team that was one good game from Melo away from winning in MSG (site of the infamous bitch slap and back pedal fifty feet). The NBA is heating up, and anyone not watching Durant should never label themselves a fan because he is lighting people up; although, on that Las Vegas (they have to be heading there right?) Supersonics team, I would probably take 30 shots a game too--they suck.

NYC...some brief thoughts

Papawawa is even more cool than I remembered. You know how Adrian Griener's character (by the way what a lame real name for Vincent Chase?) has that line from the fake Indie movie Queens Boulevard: "I am Queens Boulevard," I can see Papawawa saying the same thing about NYC. Renews spends too much time away from the city to get an accurate baring on his mind set in the city. From what I see of GinaPaps, he is NYC.

Everyone always talks about what a large city NY is, but if you have close friends, it doesn't really matter. Pops and Renews invited me out on Friday night, and we partied with Brett and Turtle, and I met some people, and everyone seems really relaxed around Brett, and I wished Voldemort and Rubey could be there, but they are just cool motherfuckers here. Hip comes to mind. I love it.

Also, the subway is pretty complicated, but I think after a couple of years I will be able to get everywhere. For now, my goal is to get to the West side of the city this weekend, and maybe make it to Jersey City to meet Vladdy (who doesn't want to come over to my side).

I walk around thinking I am in a dream, and I alluded to it in the other post, but it really does not feel real. I read some of my buddies emails and they are the same way. It's like I am here, but I don't really feel like I am here. I still feel like a visiter. I don't know if this is an advantage, but I certainly feel different than MAry Jane Junior, Renews, Ginapapawawa, who are all real New Yorkers in my mind. I am going to plead ignorance, and let my feel for the city come naturally. Note, this will probably require getting home late at night drunk, yipped up, and wondering where the fuck I am. Then I will realize I am a permanent resident.

All in all, this is such a strange transition, and I find my mind not grasping where I am and what I am seeing.

Strange aside, I was smoking on my fire escape this afternoon after I got back from training at work, and I flicked the butt down. I don't know if it was Newton (Wilshun or Voldemort can tell me), but someone figured out that differences in weight do not change the velocity things fall. I then pictured myself falling just like my cigarette butt. I shuddered with that great feeling of goosebumps, and went back inside, and contemplated my existence in this hub of the world.

Leaving Washington DC is tough

So this is my first post from New York City. It is strange sitting here on my bed with my girl here, and wondering what the DC crew is doing on Friday. I am going over to papawawa's house in about an hour, and I wanted to describe my last day in Washington DC. It was a tough one. I could go into intimate details about all the booze consumed, or drugs taken, but it was the same ol' same ol' as my buddies partied like we always partied. A farewell weekend. On Monday, I barely got into work after said crazy weekend.
Three Days went by before I continued writing.

Leaving DC is doubly strange when each day seems like a vacation or like some surreal experience involving Mescaline, my father, and Tony Soprano (a dream I had last night--I met him on the subway with my father), but enough about that strange dream.

Shit I have to go get a couch. I promise I will finish this tonight, and brevity will come into play.
Back again and now I will finish something I have been trying to write for a week.

It's not often you move your whole life for a woman, but I did it, and I do not regret it, since she is worth moving for, and because I have Renews, Papawawa, and Vladdy Daddy chilling in the city, not to mention lots of other people. I do miss my favorite degenerates in Washington DC.

Voldemort and Rubey were the best friends a guy could have (no homo). They just get it. What "it" is could be a bevy of different things: charisma, eloquence, comedic timing, self-deprecation, and the ability to ingest massive amounts of whiskey in a single sitting. These two personified that aesthetic. I know it is a bit misleading to label partying, and enjoying yourself as an aesthetic past time (don't tell Hunter), but to me it is an art form (Renews, Wilshun and Papawawa also get it). Anyone can go black out, but not many can black out and still have a great night out with their friends. You just get that person enough to go balls to the wall because you know they have your back.

I know that was a fucked up paragraph to write, but so be it.

I miss them. Always will, but my place is in NYC now. I wish I were talented enough to write a song, but my simple words will have to do.


I wish I were enlightened enough to write something to convey those feelings more succinctly, but right now I do not.