I sincerely hope you had a great Memorial Day weekend. Most New Yorkers, judging from the status updates of my Facebook friends, went to the Hamptons. What better way to commemoriate the bravery of our fallen U.S. soldiers, who have so valiantly risked their lives for our freedom, than by heading out to an overpriced beach house that you share with twenty-five investment bankers and other potential date rapists in a town where a bottle of ketchup costs $11.99? I don't understand why anybody goes out there unless they are, say, Jerry Seinfeld and can afford a twenty-five room beachfront house. And twice as much as $11.99 for a bottle of ketchup. For the record, I've never purchased ketchup in the Hamptons and I have no idea how much a bottle costs out there. I just know it's a lot. But my point is that summer is supposed to be about relaxing and taking it easy. Why would you go to the Hamptons, which is like Times Square with sand, unless you're so insecure you need to tell yourself that you matter? It's the same reason why people who sit in cubicles five days a week have Facebook profile pictures of themselves on red carpets at premieres and charity events that nobody's ever heard of. Luckily for me, I never get invited anywhere. *********** This week marks the end of our Summer in New York series, and it's a real winner. You can stream the show here and on SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes. You can also become a fan of the podcast on Facebook. As always, please help to spread the word. Many of you have been doing that, as I see friends of friends becoming fans of the show, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Also, we have literally hundreds and hundreds of subscribers now. Seriously. I'm not making that up just to seem more important than I am. Believe me, I know how unimportant I am. But I'm just so happy that people are listening to and enjoying the podcast. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for the Friends of Carpal Tunnel Relief Association Charity Benefit.
So, apparently everyone was watching the Lost finale last night. Not me. I haven't seen the show since the first or second season, when they killed off the hot blonde girl who was hooking up with the Iraqi. Because there's really no point in watching a TV program if it doesn't have an attractive blonde on it. I think this is why so many people watch Fox News. The newscasters look like they'd happily give you a lapdance for $20 while telling you that BP still hasn't stopped the big oil spill yet. That, of course, is the big news of the day. People are outraged and surprised that the oil is still gushing. I'm not. A big corporation screws the public and pretends to care even though they really don't. This is surprising? You've obviously never had to call Time Warner Cable to have a service repairman come out to your apartment. But the ocean is now completely ruined, and the news today says that it's going to spread to Europe and Asia. When you order sushi, the waiter will ask you if you want your spicy tuna roll leaded or unleaded. Or regular or premium. As it is, every time somebody offers me a piece of fish I'm now terrified it's going to give me cancer because it's been contaminated by the oil spill. I had red snapper for lunch today, and it's like the time a friend of mine confessed to me he had visited a prostitute and was scared for the next three months that he had contracted syphilis. But anyway, I didn't see Lost last night and for once missing something important had nothing to do with the MTA seeing fit to shut down every subway line in the city. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder why they even bother to have weekend service anymore. It's like a tease when they do. Oh, look, the G train is running this weekend. It must be Christmas, people tend to think nowadays. Never mind that it's May. The MTA is always doing track work they claim is for service improvements, but the service never gets better and the subway stations sure don't look any nicer. Some friends of mine who had never been to New York before were in town this past weekend, and I was embarrassed for my city at how dirty the stations are. The only consolation is that Time Warner doesn't run the subways. *********** In this week's edition of How to Do Nothing without Really Trying, we discuss various fun day trips you can take to get out of the city during the summer. Have a listen here or on SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes. And please spread the word. Because advertising is best when you don't have to pay for it.
If I have a flaw of any kind, it's that I'm far too modest for somebody as great as I am. It's really a serious problem. And since it seems selfish not to share that wonderfulness as much as is humanly possible, I'm forever trying to surround other people with my glorious presence so that they can learn from me. So that I can help others help themselves. This is not always so easy. One thing I was told when I first moved to New York is that I'd never be lonely. Friends from other parts of the world would always stay in touch, because everybody comes to New York and everybody always wants a free place to stay when they're here. Fair enough. I have no problem with that. I'm very social, and since I'm likeable and ridiculously charming I have a ton of friends. But lately, I've been wondering if I have some sort of invisible version of a Kick Me sign on my back. Or one that says ignore me. Case in point: this past Tuesday, I was supposed to have dinner with a friend of mine. A few days before, I hit her up on Gchat to ask if we were still on. No response. The day before, I did the same. Nothing. So, I made other plans. Then, on Tuesday night, her Facebook status said she was hanging out in Hoboken. I'm OK with not having met, because I'm not sure I have anything to say to anybody who would willingly go to Hoboken. But still. Whatever happened to manners? Then, this past weekend, I was trying to meet up with some old friends, one of whom I haven't seen in over a decade. Unfortunately, they decided to get together at 11:00 p.m. on Friday. And since I'm no longer in high school, this was a little late for me. Though I was willing to try to stick it out. So, I made plans with one of the people involved. We would have dinner, then head down to the bar. But this person backed out, saying she was too tired. Not wanting to aimlessly wander in Manhattan for five hours, I went home. I knew if I returned to Brooklyn, there was no way I was heading back into Manhattan. So I just called it an early night. Then the next day, photos of the bar crawl appeared on Facebook. It looked like everyone had a great time. Including my friend who'd said she wasn't going, and had canceled dinner. And I never got to see my friend who I hadn't hung out with in a decade because, even though we had plans to meet for lunch on Saturday, he just simply never responded to my text message trying to figure out where to meet. The only real moral of the story here is that I feel sorry for people who don't get to hang out with me. But you can't make other folks' decisions for them. *********** In this week's episode of the podcast, two important subjects are discussed: the glories of Brooklyn during the summer, and the beauty of New York's female population. You can stream the show here or on SelfAbsorbed.me, and subscribe in iTunes. As always, please help to spread the word by telling a few friends about the show. And it'd be great if you could write a review and rate us in iTunes. Otherwise, the women of New York will be enraged and wonder why you couldn't be bothered to help promote an installment devoted to them. And since there are approximately 4 million females living in New York, that's a lot of enemies to make when you don't have to. Happy listening.
I hope everybody had a great Mother's Day. If you are single and childless and just marking time until you die alone, forgotten and unloved by your distant relatives, I hope you called your mother. If you are unfortunate enough to be cursed with children, I hope your significant other or somebody who cares about you was at least thoughtful enough to take your offspring to a local mall, and pretend to lose them so that you could enjoy your day. And the rest of 2010. My mother was lucky enough to get to see me on both days this past weekend. On Saturday, we had a family event that involved me getting lost in the Trenton area. Which, if you've ever been there, you know is not very nice. To put it mildly. At one point, I saw numerous cop cars in the parking lot of a KFC as about twenty policemen arrested some guy who was handcuffed and leaning against a police car. It seemed like overkill to me to have that many cops present to arrest one guy, but Journey's Don't Stop Believin' had just come on the radio and that piano intro is just so inspiring. So I kept on driving. On Sunday, I bought my mother a very expensive bouquet at an extremely fancy florist shop in Williamsburg. I told the woman who was helping me to put something together for about $15 to $20, and she created a lovely bouquet of pink roses and some other things. She assured me that my mother would love it. She won't be sorry she had me, I said. The woman looked me up and down. I wouldn't bet on that, she replied. *********** The latest edition of How to Do Nothing without Really Trying is now up. You can listen to it either here or at Self Absorbed and subscribe in iTunes. As always, we appreciate your support. And please help to spread the word. And write a review and rate us in iTunes, if you'd be so kind. Actually, today's installment of the podcast isn't showing up in iTunes just yet, and I'm hoping it's simply a question it being late to update. With any luck, the current show will appear tonight when I get home. Otherwise, I'll probably have to roofie myself just so I can get to sleep tonight.
If you live in New York, you're aware of how hot it was yesterday. It felt like the middle of August, when you take a shower and immediately start sweating again before you can towel off and get dressed. When I started to grouse about this to an older gentleman with whom I was carrying on a conversation, he was kind of dismissive about it. That's one of the problems with talking to old people. You can never impress them. Whatever you say, they've got a story that can beat it. This brings up a slightly larger point. I hate it when you tell somebody about something that happened to you, then that person spins a yarn that tops your tale to such a large degree that you either don't believe it or you just wish they'd shut up and let you finish whatever it is you're saying without interrupting. Because it's so self-centered and rude of people to make every conversation take a left turn so that it's about them. When it so obviously should be about me. You saw a burning truck on the side of the road, and braved the flames to rescue the driver? Your grandfather probably had the same thing happen, but he put the fire out just by staring at it with such intensity that the flames got scared. You once won $10,000 in Las Vegas? That's nothing. Your boss once won $1 million, and the casino gave him an extra $2 million just because he was such a hard-ass. And charming. The other day, I was mulling over how fortunate I am to have dated such beautiful, interesting women over the course of my life. But then I listened to the episode of Marc Maron's WTF podcast wherein he interviews Margaret Cho, and she talked about the orgies she had with porn stars. Then I just had to call my therapist, to get all kinds of straightened out. But as for the heat, I was talking to somebody who's much older than I am and he was unimpressed by our little 89 degree heatwave. He could not only recall blistering, drought-inducing heat in December, but also snow in July. And gale-force hurricanes in August. This annoyed me so much that I kicked his cane out from under him, and grabbed his wallet while he was doubled over in pain on the sidewalk. Then I went and got myself a peach-strawberry smoothie as he writhed in agony. That'll teach him to talk to strangers. *********** In this week's episode of the podcast, Goldy tells a story that can't be topped. It involves bee stings and penises, and I don't want to give away much more than that. You can stream the show at SelfAbsorbed.me and subscribe in iTunes. As always, please tell friends and help to spread the word. And if you write a review and rate us, we will give you a personal shout-out on the podcast. Seriously. No fooling. Thanks.
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