Matzo Mafia
Some people from the building came up for dinner the other night. The couple from right below brought their inter-specie loving lesbian rat terrier and while my cat's tail did puff up defensively to three times its normal size for awhile, by the end of the evening it appeared that she might have been softening to the idea of doggie love, coming down from the safety of the dresser and stretched out as she was on the bed, while her long-nosed canine suitor kept attentive watch from a claw-swiping-safe distance. As interested as I'm sure some of you are in the idea of my cat giving in and falling in love with a neighbor's dog I must again disappoint you and further my ever-loving discussion of NYC parking.
The dog's parents I am calling Danny W. Dawkins and Karen Ireland. Danny and I began to discuss parking because you practically have to go to Romania to find anyone around here who will talk football playoffs with you and before I knew it he was offering up his cherry spot from around the corner, one of those that only require 30 minutes of maintenance twice a week instead of 90 minutes twice a week. He had to go out of town on Wednesday and why not give it up to a friend instead of one of those bastards from the matzo mafia. Those guys act like they rule that block and every second or third car is one of theirs. I heard they were moving that matzo factory to Brooklyn and if you ask me, what's taking them so long? Good riddance to those cracker making crackers with their chief cracker lieutenant marching up the block and ordering people to back up a little so they can fit one more of their guys up at the Delancey end of the row. For real, this morning I wanted to roll down my window and tell that crusty headed bastard, what? But I'm in Bernadette's brother's Jeep for another few days and his Jeep is developing the same driver's side power window problem I used to have, so I couldn't roll down my window.
If I could of rolled the window down though I would have said--if you ain't one aggravatin son of a bitch you crusty old matzo making bastard you. I am unemployed, cranky in the morning, and for stretches of time including this one not that interested in fellow human engagement and it has taken all these first peaceful twenty minutes before you showed up to get the inside of this Jeep warm and here you are barking out my window about how much space I have behind me and how other people wanna park on the street besides me and like I said I'm unemployed and it ain't all bad. And if you could read you would read that to mean I don't have some stupid ass self important boss yelling his dumb shit first thing in the morning.
So on the plus side you have maximum convenience, the parking spaces being just around the corner from our building, and you have that 30 minute aspect. On the negative side you have trees overhead from which birds shit on your car, and you do have because of nearby bars the occasional pile of vomit or human excrement and speaking of human excrement you have the chief of the matzo acting like he thinks I give a damn early on a cold morning about fitting one more of his boys in the line. Screw it man, I'm getting a bicycle. Or a flamethrower. Maybe a flamethrower and a bicycle. I'm going to Long Island to watch football this weekend and I'm trading back the Jeep for the Jeep. And I'm hoping my power window still works. You hear me crusty? We need to work on your manners.
That got me thinkin'. You know how it's impossible not to look like a dork riding a Segway? Solution: Segway with knobby tires *and* flamethrowers. FTW.
What did you have to give Danny W. Dawkins for that juicy tidbit?
I have a treasured relation who runs a Segway tour guiding outfit in a foreign country so I'm going to have to plead ignorance to knowing what you mean, Mark.
As for DWD--A two week lease on my soul, a set of used tires, 3 xanax, and a coffee cup with my picutre on it.
On a good day, I'm cranky in the morning and don't care to interact with humans. Just this morning my sig-spouse said look Aldo is looking at you, as I came down the stairs. I told her that I could hardly see, but did see him looking at me. I did go back to pet him after he noticed that I did ignore him and was now prone on his doggy pad. BTW, he's not gay, buy does try to hump our very understanding young Maine Coon.
I am also unemployed and retired. I luckily have a garage within which to park my car and no matzo mafia in there yelling at me to move it up so he can fit another car in. I would probably have killed him with a matzo ball by now if I were you who have to go to LI to talk and watch football rather than Romania, which is a lot farther away than LI.
Any time you want to watch a game, Im willing and able. Go Jets and Saints.
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Some people from the building came up for dinner the other night. The couple from right below brought their inter-specie loving lesbian rat terrier and while my cat's tail did puff up defensively to three times its normal size for awhile, by the end of the evening it appeared that she might have been softening to the idea of doggie love, coming down from the safety of the dresser and stretched out as she was on the bed, while her long-nosed canine suitor kept attentive watch from a claw-swiping-safe distance. As interested as I'm sure some of you are in the idea of my cat giving in and falling in love with a neighbor's dog I must again disappoint you and further my ever-loving discussion of NYC parking.
The dog's parents I am calling Danny W. Dawkins and Karen Ireland. Danny and I began to discuss parking because you practically have to go to Romania to find anyone around here who will talk football playoffs with you and before I knew it he was offering up his cherry spot from around the corner, one of those that only require 30 minutes of maintenance twice a week instead of 90 minutes twice a week. He had to go out of town on Wednesday and why not give it up to a friend instead of one of those bastards from the matzo mafia. Those guys act like they rule that block and every second or third car is one of theirs. I heard they were moving that matzo factory to Brooklyn and if you ask me, what's taking them so long? Good riddance to those cracker making crackers with their chief cracker lieutenant marching up the block and ordering people to back up a little so they can fit one more of their guys up at the Delancey end of the row. For real, this morning I wanted to roll down my window and tell that crusty headed bastard, what? But I'm in Bernadette's brother's Jeep for another few days and his Jeep is developing the same driver's side power window problem I used to have, so I couldn't roll down my window.
If I could of rolled the window down though I would have said--if you ain't one aggravatin son of a bitch you crusty old matzo making bastard you. I am unemployed, cranky in the morning, and for stretches of time including this one not that interested in fellow human engagement and it has taken all these first peaceful twenty minutes before you showed up to get the inside of this Jeep warm and here you are barking out my window about how much space I have behind me and how other people wanna park on the street besides me and like I said I'm unemployed and it ain't all bad. And if you could read you would read that to mean I don't have some stupid ass self important boss yelling his dumb shit first thing in the morning.
So on the plus side you have maximum convenience, the parking spaces being just around the corner from our building, and you have that 30 minute aspect. On the negative side you have trees overhead from which birds shit on your car, and you do have because of nearby bars the occasional pile of vomit or human excrement and speaking of human excrement you have the chief of the matzo acting like he thinks I give a damn early on a cold morning about fitting one more of his boys in the line. Screw it man, I'm getting a bicycle. Or a flamethrower. Maybe a flamethrower and a bicycle. I'm going to Long Island to watch football this weekend and I'm trading back the Jeep for the Jeep. And I'm hoping my power window still works. You hear me crusty? We need to work on your manners.
- jimlouis 1-14-2010 8:28 pm
That got me thinkin'. You know how it's impossible not to look like a dork riding a Segway? Solution: Segway with knobby tires *and* flamethrowers. FTW.
- mark 1-14-2010 9:51 pm [ comments]
What did you have to give Danny W. Dawkins for that juicy tidbit?
- steve 1-15-2010 3:30 am [ comments]
I have a treasured relation who runs a Segway tour guiding outfit in a foreign country so I'm going to have to plead ignorance to knowing what you mean, Mark.
As for DWD--A two week lease on my soul, a set of used tires, 3 xanax, and a coffee cup with my picutre on it.
- jimlouis 1-15-2010 2:22 pm [ comments]
On a good day, I'm cranky in the morning and don't care to interact with humans. Just this morning my sig-spouse said look Aldo is looking at you, as I came down the stairs. I told her that I could hardly see, but did see him looking at me. I did go back to pet him after he noticed that I did ignore him and was now prone on his doggy pad. BTW, he's not gay, buy does try to hump our very understanding young Maine Coon.
I am also unemployed and retired. I luckily have a garage within which to park my car and no matzo mafia in there yelling at me to move it up so he can fit another car in. I would probably have killed him with a matzo ball by now if I were you who have to go to LI to talk and watch football rather than Romania, which is a lot farther away than LI.
- Marco (guest) 1-15-2010 2:32 pm [ comments]
Any time you want to watch a game, Im willing and able. Go Jets and Saints.
- ken 1-16-2010 6:44 pm [ comments]