A few months ago, Bronwen and I went to a bar/club called Chetty Red to check out a band that was performing a WonkOpera - doing rock versions of the songs from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. After they finished their set we were walking out when I saw Dave Attell sitting at the bar. Attell is the host of Comedy Central's Insomniac, and one of my fave comedians. Bronwen said I should talk to him.
"Why?"
"Because you like him."
"So? What am I gonna say...'Uhhh, Dave, I just wanna say that I like you?'"
"Yes," Bronwen replied way too seriously, "That would be a fine icebreaker. Then offer to buy him a beer..."
"Offer to buy him - I don't have enough conversation for a beer with friends, much less someone I don't know. What the heck are we gonna talk about?"
"I dunno..talk about where he's from...how long he's been in the business before he made it...you'll think of something. C'mon, maybe you'll make a connection."
"Not happening ...can we just go?"
"Not until you go over."
"Look," I said while pointing in Dave's direction, "He's talking to someone...let's just go."
"I can't believe what a chicken you are."
"We've been going out for a year...you should know by now that I'm a chicken...besides, ...I just don't see the point."
"The point is you'll meet someone you think is funny and maybe, you'll make a connection."
"Can we go?"
"Not until you go over."
"I'm not going over."
"Chicken."
"I already told you, I know I'm a chicken, but that's not even why I don't wanna go over."
"Well, I'm not leaving till you go over...even if just to say 'Hi'."
"Fine!"
"Umm, hi, Dave? Sorry to bother you...but I just wanted to tell you that I really like you...I mean your show. I really like your show," I stammered as Dave turned towards me.
"Thanks...I appreciate it," he replied between drags on his cigarette.
"I also saw you at Caroline's a couple weeks ago...great stuff."
"Thanks again...you wanna join us? This is Fred...he's a comic too."
"Hi, Harris," I said.
"Hi, " Fred replied. I extending my hand and then motioned to the bartender for a beer. "Either of you need another?" They both shook their bottles and then their heads.
"I can really use some sorbet."
Upon handing me the beer from the bartender Dave said, "Fred and I were just discussing a sitcom idea that we wanna work on together and pitch to Comedy Central."
"Really?" I squealed, much louder and tinnier than I'd have liked. Lowering my voice I continued, "Well, if there are stunts involved and you need a double, I'm here for ya."
"That's funny...you do look kinda like me...a used book store owner version."
"You picked me out of the audience and said the exact same thing at Caroline's."
Dave looked at Fred and said, "At least now I'm stealing material from myself."
"You want some sorbet?"
"So what's the sitcom about?" I inquired.
"It's basically about my real life...a widowed dad trying to raise his teenage daughter the best he knows how." I looked at him suspiciously.
"Okay, it's actually gonna be about a comedian who tries to juggle his family and career on the road."
"Put in a domineering mother in and you've got Romano's show," I threw in.
Ed perked up. "We're hoping to promote Dave as the anti-Romano. You know, coarse, unkempt, very sarcastic - "
"It's gonna be quite a stretch for me acting-wise," Dave interjected, and then took another drag on his cigarette.
"Why don't you also give your character a drinking problem? That way all your booze will be on the network's tab."
Dave's eyes lit up. "Hey, that's not a bad idea." He turned to Fred. "Then I can also make them pay for my visits to Betty Ford." He looked back towards me. "...And sue them for making me into a drunk. You got any other ideas?"
"Well, I would put in a sex-obsessed grandmother who isn't Bea Arthur and a precocious child who's vocabulary is well beyond their years." We chuckled.
"Yeah, maybe I should have a gay black best friend as well. If I'm gonna sell out, I may as well go all the way."
"Besides, It would suck if you sold out and the show got cancelled after three episodes," I added.
"Hello? Do you want sorbet?"
"Like he would care," Ed interjected, "He'd get a gig on one of his friends' shows...I'm the one who should worry -I'd be back to eating all my meals at Bob's Big Boy's and opening for Carrot Top at The Funny Factory in Topeka."
"I got a sure fire way to have a hit - get Paris Hilton to star as your daughter...and maybe Ashton Kutscher to play your son."
Ed piped in, "Too bad you can't use extortion to get her compliance since everyone already has naked pictures of her."
"Maybe I can ply her with alcohol and seduce her, " Dave added, "Then you can take pictures of us...now THOSE would be pictures she wouldn't want to get out."
"Anyway, I should be gettin' back to my girlfriend. It was nice meeting you guys."
"Before I started walking away, Dave spoke up. "Ya know, we're gonna need some help writing the scripts." Ed nodded. Dave continued, "Would you have any interest in meeting with us to throw ideas around?"
"Are you serious?" I screeched, my voice almost cracking. Playing it cool just wasn't in my repertoire.
"Sure, you seem like a bright funny dude...can't be surrounded by enough of them...right Ed?"
"I agree. Do you have any experience writing sitcoms?"
"No."
"Good.. He'll work cheap," Ed said while looking at Dave. We all chuckled.
"Harris! DOOOO YOOOOOU WAAAAANT SORBET?!!" I immediately stopped walking turned towards Bronwen, who had stopped walking about five seconds ago and was standing by the entrance of the corner deli.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fast forward to last week - Rob and I went to The Moth, where people get up to tell a story around a theme chosen in advance. Yesterday's theme was "Liars" - whatever. People who want to get up put their name in a hat - 10 people get selected and they have 5 minutes to tell their story, after which their story is judged by volunteers from the audience and the top scores win. Whatever. They do get some famous people to get up along with the hoi polloi (people like Margaret Cho, Spalding Gray, Ethan Hawke, Rosie O'Donnell, Jim Bouton, etc)...got the idea?
Anyway, the host was McSweeney's fave and author of Loser Goes First (a quick, funny read if anyone cares), Dan Kennedy. He's also the editor of www.reallysmalltalk.com, the site I just got that little Subway Story posted. I had never met Dan but thought maybe I should.
"You think I should?"
"Of course...you already have something to talk about. This is a perfect time..you have fifteen minutes for intermission...you can certainly talk for fifteen minutes!"
"Yeah, that doesn't seem too bad."
"And you have something to talk about!"
"I do, don't I."
"If you don't go up, I will."
"Huh? What are you gonna say?"
"I'll point you out and tell him that he just posted one of your stories on his site."
"No, you won't," I said threateningly. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds then he made a motion to get up.
I immediately sprang to my feet and exclaimed, "Okay, okay...I'll go say 'Hi'."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, thank you." He plopped back down. I walked uneasily to the bar area, where Dan was hanging out. I started to sweat.
When I got to Dan, he was at the bar talking to one of the "storytellers", Mark Katz, who worked in the oval office during the Clinton admin and worked for Gore as well (I knew from his story).
"Hi, Dan? Hi, I'm Harris Bloom. I wrote -- "
"Oh yeah...Subway Story guy! Nice to meet you"
"Yeah! That's me." I was pleasantly surprised he remembered my name. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
"Nice to put the face with the writing." He turned to Mark. "Mark, this is Harris...Harris, Mark."
"Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you." Mark drank his beer, Dan, drank what appeared to be soda, and looked into the audience. I hadn't brought my drink over, so I just crossed my arms.
Eventually, Dan turned to Mark and said, "Anyway, I got the meeting with Sony next week."
Mark replied, "Good luck with that...I may have a meeting with Kerry's people." I stood there with my arms folded, nodding my head every so often to make it appear to anyone watching me from behind that I was talking.
Dan - "I think you'll have your work cut out for you there. Making him appear funny may prove harder than Gore" I looked at Mark.
Mark - "Yeah, we'll see...did you see Jimmy last night?" I looked at Dan.
Dan - "Nah...missed him. We were long gone by the time he got there. Why, what'd he say happened?" I looked at Mark.
Mark - "You know Jimmy...he got totally trashed and ended up getting kicked out." Dan shook his head and smiled a knowing smile. I smiled an unknowing and nervous smile.
They took a another sip. I continued to stand there with arms crossed.
Dan looked at his bottle and asked Mark," Want another? I looked at Mark.
"No, I'm cool."
Dan looked at me. "Can I buy you one?"
"No, I got one at my table, thanks." Dan turned to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. Mark and I stood in silence, him drinking his beer, and me with my arms folded trying to think of something to say. I felt sweat dripping down my back.
After a minute I said, "Your story was funny."
"Thanks." More silence. We looked into the crowd. They mocked us with seemingly free-flowing conversations and intermittent laughter.
Dan, new soda in hand, rejoined us, looked at me and asked, "Do you think it would be rude if I got back onstage and read a newspaper." I had no idea how to reply.
Feeling pressure to say something I replied, "Slightly." After that, silence reigned again. They drank...I stuck with my Mr. Clean impersonation.
"So how was your LA trip?" Mark asked. I looked at Dan.
"It was fun...did a reading....met up with some friends. Weren't you out there recently?" I looked at Mark.
"No, not since December..or maybe January."
Feeling more than slightly stupid, I spoke up, "Well, it was nice meeting you both...maybe I'll submit something else soon."
Dan responded, "Good to meet you too...and sure, anytime."
I walked back to Rob.
"Look at you!" he cried out. "You da man!!!"
Dripping with flopsweat, I reached for the beer in front of me. It was empty, naturally.
Yeah, I'm da man.
Rock On,
Aitch
Friday, July 9, 2004
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
My Night with Stephanie Seymour
So my girlfriend's company, the ultra-hip Bumble & Bumble, had a party to officially open their new space in the Meatpacking District (you've come a long way, baby - I remember The Meatpacking district when you couldn't take a step without tripping over a crack vial or a tranny hooker...gosh, I miss those days - now, you can't take a step without tripping over a model or Tara Reid tripping over you)...Why did I go? Free B-B-Q walking distance from apartment...need I say more?
It was theoretically a "country western theme bar-b-que" event so girlfriend wore boots with her short skirt (?) and tied a shirt over her t-shirt (I don't know)...I wore ripped jeans and a regular shirt - the ripped jeans were my idea of "country western themed" since if I was livin' in the ol' west, I woulda certainly fallen off my horse several times a day, ripping my jeans in the process..
So we walk in, she air-kisses a bunch of peeps and twice kisses (one on each cheek) a bunch of other peeps and seeing that few people are dressed country or western, goes to her desk to change into the heels she brought in the event of such noncompliance. I followed her around like a puppy, her grabbing my paw once in a while when I assume I looked extra frightened.
We walk around, her saying "Hi" to assorted co-workers, as I checked out the crowd...and quite the crowd it was....
There were girls dressed like guys
Guys dressed like girls
Girls that were guys
Guys with more make-up than girls
Girls (models) paid to have their hair done higher than wedding cakes, and then walk around
Guy-servants who walked around with appetizers as if they were The Stepford Model-Servants walking a catwalk - all pretty expressionless - actually pretty and expressionless
Stephanie Seymour
A guy who looked like a male Annie Lennox (or a male Boy George) who seemed to bring his own photographer, who followed him around and took pictures
A woman, working for hip designer Heatherette, who wore a wig (presumably) that I can only describe as looking like a snake that ate four rats, five seconds btwn feedings - the hair alternated btwn narrow and thick for about 4 feet - she had her own contingent, I assume to tell her how fabu she looked (as I told my girlfriend, "Some people need security guards...others security blankets")
I don't know if the assorted characters used traditional spray-on hairspray, but if they did, there's a scientist this morning scratching his eyes and recalibrating his instruments becasue he refuses to believe the ozone layer got cut in half overnight.
At one point, my girlfriend was called away, leaving me to talk to her muscle-bound tank-top wearing client alone. The conversation went a little something like this....
"So you just opened a new studio in NY, huh?"
"Yeah, we opened one in Soho...you know where Meets (sp?) is?"
"No."
"Well, it's right over that. I live in NoLita, so I spend all my time downtown...I love it. Much better vibe than uptown. Where do you live?"
"Me? Well, I, spend most of my time at (my girlfriend's), on 24th and 9th...I live, quote unquote, on, ummm, 78th and 1st...but I spend more time here...as I, ummm said."
"Yeah, I'm off to Cannes this week to work on some projects over there...got a few deals brewing."
"Really? What kind of...."
"Then I'm flying to L.A. ..got an office there...have to deal with the network execs."
"I'm going to New Jersey this weekend...nephew's one year birthday party."
"Yeah, these deals should open up whole new avenues."
"I could use a new avenue."
"After that...I'm off to Rio for a little R & R I can use it...after working 15-20 hour days for two months."
"I can't recall the last time I worked 15 hours in a week." He spotted someone he knew.
"Seeya." And he was off. I stood there with my now empty glass and tried to look cool. After 10 seconds, I started panicking and ran off to find my girlfriend.
Too humid to stay for too long on the deck, we walked to the floor where stylists were well, styling models' hair while rock music blared (Welcome to the Jungle seemed especially appropriate for several reasons) - quite frankly, I don't know how they worked with such a racket...
We made our way back to another floor when my girlfriend looked into a corner of the room ans said, "There's Stephanie Seymour."
"What? What?!? WHAAAAAT?!? Where!" I said, not so much as a question but as a demand.
"Over there...she's with XXX XXXX (I forgot his name), that's her stylist...he's associated with Bumble."
And sure enough, there she was....former SI Swimsuit model, Victoria's Secret Model, former paramour of Axel Rose, ankle-tattooed music-video vixen Stephanie Seymour. My girlfriend started rappin' with a few friends while I surreptitiously glanced over at Steph every 1.3 seconds. About the 739th time i did so, she happened to glance my way...our eyes met...not literally, that's kinda gross, but in a figurative, and I'd like to think, spiritual sense. In the .2 seconds, we came to an unspoken understanding...an unspoken understanding that said, "Sure, we are obviously perfect for each other, but alas, we are both taken...cruel fate has kept us apart until it is too late for us to act upon our feelings. Like a freshly made pot of porridge that was left to cool for too long and developed a thin layer of gross film to develop, so too...nah, bad metaphor....more like getting to work late on the one friekin' day someone brought in donuts and seeing chocolate icing remains on the bottom, so too have we come late to the party....not this party, I was quite early actually...where was I? Oh Nevermind."
The funny part to me is that everyone at or associated with Bumble I believe was allowed to bring one guest (hence my presence) - this dude brought Stephanie Seymour - he wins
The people all seemed pretty cool though I didn't have much to say to them - my usual line was something like, "Fun party...much different than my industry parties. We don't have models walking around or people with much hair for that matter"
"What industry are you in?"
"Accounting."
"Oh," said like they were sorry.
The only person who didn't laugh at that was Michael, the owner whom I met when we were leaving. He looked like a cross btwn Mayor Bloomberg and Dudley Moore (before he died) - Continually adjusting the collar of his shirt, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the whole hosting thing. My guess is he probably started in Accounting.
Rock On,
Aitch
It was theoretically a "country western theme bar-b-que" event so girlfriend wore boots with her short skirt (?) and tied a shirt over her t-shirt (I don't know)...I wore ripped jeans and a regular shirt - the ripped jeans were my idea of "country western themed" since if I was livin' in the ol' west, I woulda certainly fallen off my horse several times a day, ripping my jeans in the process..
So we walk in, she air-kisses a bunch of peeps and twice kisses (one on each cheek) a bunch of other peeps and seeing that few people are dressed country or western, goes to her desk to change into the heels she brought in the event of such noncompliance. I followed her around like a puppy, her grabbing my paw once in a while when I assume I looked extra frightened.
We walk around, her saying "Hi" to assorted co-workers, as I checked out the crowd...and quite the crowd it was....
There were girls dressed like guys
Guys dressed like girls
Girls that were guys
Guys with more make-up than girls
Girls (models) paid to have their hair done higher than wedding cakes, and then walk around
Guy-servants who walked around with appetizers as if they were The Stepford Model-Servants walking a catwalk - all pretty expressionless - actually pretty and expressionless
Stephanie Seymour
A guy who looked like a male Annie Lennox (or a male Boy George) who seemed to bring his own photographer, who followed him around and took pictures
A woman, working for hip designer Heatherette, who wore a wig (presumably) that I can only describe as looking like a snake that ate four rats, five seconds btwn feedings - the hair alternated btwn narrow and thick for about 4 feet - she had her own contingent, I assume to tell her how fabu she looked (as I told my girlfriend, "Some people need security guards...others security blankets")
I don't know if the assorted characters used traditional spray-on hairspray, but if they did, there's a scientist this morning scratching his eyes and recalibrating his instruments becasue he refuses to believe the ozone layer got cut in half overnight.
At one point, my girlfriend was called away, leaving me to talk to her muscle-bound tank-top wearing client alone. The conversation went a little something like this....
"So you just opened a new studio in NY, huh?"
"Yeah, we opened one in Soho...you know where Meets (sp?) is?"
"No."
"Well, it's right over that. I live in NoLita, so I spend all my time downtown...I love it. Much better vibe than uptown. Where do you live?"
"Me? Well, I, spend most of my time at (my girlfriend's), on 24th and 9th...I live, quote unquote, on, ummm, 78th and 1st...but I spend more time here...as I, ummm said."
"Yeah, I'm off to Cannes this week to work on some projects over there...got a few deals brewing."
"Really? What kind of...."
"Then I'm flying to L.A. ..got an office there...have to deal with the network execs."
"I'm going to New Jersey this weekend...nephew's one year birthday party."
"Yeah, these deals should open up whole new avenues."
"I could use a new avenue."
"After that...I'm off to Rio for a little R & R
"I can't recall the last time I worked 15 hours in a week." He spotted someone he knew.
"Seeya." And he was off. I stood there with my now empty glass and tried to look cool. After 10 seconds, I started panicking and ran off to find my girlfriend.
Too humid to stay for too long on the deck, we walked to the floor where stylists were well, styling models' hair while rock music blared (Welcome to the Jungle seemed especially appropriate for several reasons) - quite frankly, I don't know how they worked with such a racket...
We made our way back to another floor when my girlfriend looked into a corner of the room ans said, "There's Stephanie Seymour."
"What? What?!? WHAAAAAT?!? Where!" I said, not so much as a question but as a demand.
"Over there...she's with XXX XXXX (I forgot his name), that's her stylist...he's associated with Bumble."
And sure enough, there she was....former SI Swimsuit model, Victoria's Secret Model, former paramour of Axel Rose, ankle-tattooed music-video vixen Stephanie Seymour. My girlfriend started rappin' with a few friends while I surreptitiously glanced over at Steph every 1.3 seconds. About the 739th time i did so, she happened to glance my way...our eyes met...not literally, that's kinda gross, but in a figurative, and I'd like to think, spiritual sense. In the .2 seconds, we came to an unspoken understanding...an unspoken understanding that said, "Sure, we are obviously perfect for each other, but alas, we are both taken...cruel fate has kept us apart until it is too late for us to act upon our feelings. Like a freshly made pot of porridge that was left to cool for too long and developed a thin layer of gross film to develop, so too...nah, bad metaphor....more like getting to work late on the one friekin' day someone brought in donuts and seeing chocolate icing remains on the bottom, so too have we come late to the party....not this party, I was quite early actually...where was I? Oh Nevermind."
The funny part to me is that everyone at or associated with Bumble I believe was allowed to bring one guest (hence my presence) - this dude brought Stephanie Seymour - he wins
The people all seemed pretty cool though I didn't have much to say to them - my usual line was something like, "Fun party...much different than my industry parties. We don't have models walking around or people with much hair for that matter"
"What industry are you in?"
"Accounting."
"Oh," said like they were sorry.
The only person who didn't laugh at that was Michael, the owner whom I met when we were leaving. He looked like a cross btwn Mayor Bloomberg and Dudley Moore (before he died) - Continually adjusting the collar of his shirt, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the whole hosting thing. My guess is he probably started in Accounting.
Rock On,
Aitch
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Rochester: The City That Never Diets
Rich (my bro), Vic (friend), and I take Jet Blue up there Friday morning - in a Sign of Things to Come, we had chocolate cookies and soda on the plane (also saw an
episode of The White Shadow...that Salami sure was a hothead)....for
breakfast (though Vic I think had a juice box) - While waiting for Matt at
the airport, we begin to notice something is frighteningly amiss
(another Sign of Things to Come) - unless there is a Richard Simmons
convention there this weekend, the place was full (and I mean FULL) of Big
Beautiful Women (as they would probably call themselves).
ANYWAY, We go to Matt's and immediately fire up the que - by 11 AM, we're eating Cheddarwursts (hot dogs with cheese in them) and cheesebugers (those are hamburgers with cheese on them) and drinkin' Ice (Smirnoff natch') - we also opened a box
of fudge stripe cookies (thankfully Matt had several boxes) as well as a
chocolate chip fudge cake (hey, when in Fatopia...).
We go to check Rich and Vic in at Chez Days Inn - they put them in The Last
Room on the Left - odd in that there didn't seem to be anyone occupying any
of the closer rooms judging by the dearth of cars in the lot. We assumed
it was so no one can hear the screams.
So we left Fatropolis and head out to Buffalo (no need to change name) for
the evening. Our first stop is a bar called SoHo's which Matt told us
usually has a lot of hot chicks - well, Matt lied - the only hot chicks
there were the waitresses - the patrons all looked like contestants in a
"Who Has the Biggest Love Handles" contest. On the bright side, they have
a free carving board buffet. Lemmee tell ya, if they had turkey and roast
beef like this at Shawshank, I'm pretty sure Andy woulda never tried to
escape - it was amazing, the kind they must serve at Dorsia. Left there to
go to a Buffalo Bison game (minor league baseball) - we were kinda full at
this point so we just had ice cream, beer, and hot dogs and fries. Rich
was absolutely mesmorized by the crazy capers of the mascots (I think he
may have found his life's calling). The seats at this park I believe were
designed for Japanese midgets. I don't know how three quarters the
population fits. After the game, we went to The Anchor Bar where they
serve The Original Buffalo Wings (something tells me it's like Rays in
Manhattan...every other block has a place claiming that title) - we did a
lousy job eating there though probably understandable given that we haven't
stopped since we got there (Since we were in Buffalo, at a wing place, Vic
got the sausage ravioli...natch')
Saturday morning I wake up to a couple more slices of chocolate chip fudge
cake - also had a pop tart or two - and had some oatmeal (my version of
people who get a supersized Big Mac combo meal...and a Diet Coke). We head
out to a water/amusement park. As I said last year, the chicks at this
place have more tattoos than teeth. The less said about the chicks the
better. Anyway, the company Matt works for has a part stationed off for
free food (two words that are great separately but are magical together).
After going on some of the rides in the morning (Vic and I go on the roller
coasters, the Screaming Eagles, the Wheel of Death, etc - Rich went on the
Tea Cup, the Wheel of Love, etc), we hit the B-B-Q -
What's better than dawgs, burgas, and ice cream sandwiches you ask? FREE dawgs, FREE burgas,and FREE ice cream sandwiches - I ate about four of each as did Rich and
Mat...Vic had a salad with a lovely low-fat raspberry vinagrette. Checked
out the water rides after lunch which were fun though I no longer have a
desire to take an Alaskan cruise to go whale watching (sense a theme
here?). "Ya put a bolt on some of their necks and you'd see villagers
chasing them with torches" (damn I love that line).
Adam joins us and after pitstopping at the house. We change into these
orange "federal prison" shirts (with inmate numbers on the back) that Vic
and Rich brought. I don't think it gets any funnier than that. We head out
to catch a Rochester Red Wings (minor league baseball) game. We ate steak
sandwiches, the Worst Fries Ever (thanks Adam), beer, cotton candy (well, I
did) and ice cream (well, I did). I think Vic ate carrot and celery
sticks. Once again, Rich was mesmorized by the wacky antics of the
mascots. Around the fifth inning, my birthday was announced and was stated
on the scorboard thusly, "HAPPY 50th HARRIS BLOOM" (thanks again Adam...for
those that dont know, it's not my birthday...and I'm nowhere near
50...though I will be leaving the coveted18-34 demographic that advertisers
crave soon). Did I mention how half this town coulda been the
understudy for Gilbert Grape's mom?
After the game we head to Jillian's, a sports bar/game room/bowling
alley/dance club. Good time there - watched some preseason football,
bowled (Matt won...I sucked) and played some air hockey. I chased away
some bachlorette party with my New Yawk charm. Couple of cute chicks there
but overall the pickins were slim (unlike the chicks).
Woke up Sunday and went to The Cracker Barrel for breakfast. I'm assuming
this meal is representative of the average meal eaten in Fattown, USA.
After squeezing our way through the salivating patrons to get to our table,
they started us off with biscuits and a gravy, which looked like lard - the
only think I know that was in it was bits of sausage. It tasted a heck of
a lot better than it looked. My $6 breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs,
hash browns, thick sliced bacon and three large pancakes. After, we went
to Matt's in-law's cottage by the lake where we rode thier boat and ogled
Matt's wife's 21 year old sister. We took some of the bef teriyaki (it
wasn't beef, it was bef) for a last que at Matt's - left Matt's, caught our flight, ate some cookies courtesy of Jet Blue (Vic had animal crackers) and arrived back in sweaty, disgusting...but thin New Yawk last night. Hit my gym this morning. I aint weighing myself for a week...at least.
Rock On,
Aitch
episode of The White Shadow...that Salami sure was a hothead)....for
breakfast (though Vic I think had a juice box) - While waiting for Matt at
the airport, we begin to notice something is frighteningly amiss
(another Sign of Things to Come) - unless there is a Richard Simmons
convention there this weekend, the place was full (and I mean FULL) of Big
Beautiful Women (as they would probably call themselves).
ANYWAY, We go to Matt's and immediately fire up the que - by 11 AM, we're eating Cheddarwursts (hot dogs with cheese in them) and cheesebugers (those are hamburgers with cheese on them) and drinkin' Ice (Smirnoff natch') - we also opened a box
of fudge stripe cookies (thankfully Matt had several boxes) as well as a
chocolate chip fudge cake (hey, when in Fatopia...).
We go to check Rich and Vic in at Chez Days Inn - they put them in The Last
Room on the Left - odd in that there didn't seem to be anyone occupying any
of the closer rooms judging by the dearth of cars in the lot. We assumed
it was so no one can hear the screams.
So we left Fatropolis and head out to Buffalo (no need to change name) for
the evening. Our first stop is a bar called SoHo's which Matt told us
usually has a lot of hot chicks - well, Matt lied - the only hot chicks
there were the waitresses - the patrons all looked like contestants in a
"Who Has the Biggest Love Handles" contest. On the bright side, they have
a free carving board buffet. Lemmee tell ya, if they had turkey and roast
beef like this at Shawshank, I'm pretty sure Andy woulda never tried to
escape - it was amazing, the kind they must serve at Dorsia. Left there to
go to a Buffalo Bison game (minor league baseball) - we were kinda full at
this point so we just had ice cream, beer, and hot dogs and fries. Rich
was absolutely mesmorized by the crazy capers of the mascots (I think he
may have found his life's calling). The seats at this park I believe were
designed for Japanese midgets. I don't know how three quarters the
population fits. After the game, we went to The Anchor Bar where they
serve The Original Buffalo Wings (something tells me it's like Rays in
Manhattan...every other block has a place claiming that title) - we did a
lousy job eating there though probably understandable given that we haven't
stopped since we got there (Since we were in Buffalo, at a wing place, Vic
got the sausage ravioli...natch')
Saturday morning I wake up to a couple more slices of chocolate chip fudge
cake - also had a pop tart or two - and had some oatmeal (my version of
people who get a supersized Big Mac combo meal...and a Diet Coke). We head
out to a water/amusement park. As I said last year, the chicks at this
place have more tattoos than teeth. The less said about the chicks the
better. Anyway, the company Matt works for has a part stationed off for
free food (two words that are great separately but are magical together).
After going on some of the rides in the morning (Vic and I go on the roller
coasters, the Screaming Eagles, the Wheel of Death, etc - Rich went on the
Tea Cup, the Wheel of Love, etc), we hit the B-B-Q -
What's better than dawgs, burgas, and ice cream sandwiches you ask? FREE dawgs, FREE burgas,and FREE ice cream sandwiches - I ate about four of each as did Rich and
Mat...Vic had a salad with a lovely low-fat raspberry vinagrette. Checked
out the water rides after lunch which were fun though I no longer have a
desire to take an Alaskan cruise to go whale watching (sense a theme
here?). "Ya put a bolt on some of their necks and you'd see villagers
chasing them with torches" (damn I love that line).
Adam joins us and after pitstopping at the house. We change into these
orange "federal prison" shirts (with inmate numbers on the back) that Vic
and Rich brought. I don't think it gets any funnier than that. We head out
to catch a Rochester Red Wings (minor league baseball) game. We ate steak
sandwiches, the Worst Fries Ever (thanks Adam), beer, cotton candy (well, I
did) and ice cream (well, I did). I think Vic ate carrot and celery
sticks. Once again, Rich was mesmorized by the wacky antics of the
mascots. Around the fifth inning, my birthday was announced and was stated
on the scorboard thusly, "HAPPY 50th HARRIS BLOOM" (thanks again Adam...for
those that dont know, it's not my birthday...and I'm nowhere near
50...though I will be leaving the coveted18-34 demographic that advertisers
crave soon). Did I mention how half this town coulda been the
understudy for Gilbert Grape's mom?
After the game we head to Jillian's, a sports bar/game room/bowling
alley/dance club. Good time there - watched some preseason football,
bowled (Matt won...I sucked) and played some air hockey. I chased away
some bachlorette party with my New Yawk charm. Couple of cute chicks there
but overall the pickins were slim (unlike the chicks).
Woke up Sunday and went to The Cracker Barrel for breakfast. I'm assuming
this meal is representative of the average meal eaten in Fattown, USA.
After squeezing our way through the salivating patrons to get to our table,
they started us off with biscuits and a gravy, which looked like lard - the
only think I know that was in it was bits of sausage. It tasted a heck of
a lot better than it looked. My $6 breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs,
hash browns, thick sliced bacon and three large pancakes. After, we went
to Matt's in-law's cottage by the lake where we rode thier boat and ogled
Matt's wife's 21 year old sister. We took some of the bef teriyaki (it
wasn't beef, it was bef) for a last que at Matt's - left Matt's, caught our flight, ate some cookies courtesy of Jet Blue (Vic had animal crackers) and arrived back in sweaty, disgusting...but thin New Yawk last night. Hit my gym this morning. I aint weighing myself for a week...at least.
Rock On,
Aitch
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Monday, April 5, 2004
Mazta
Rob was flabbergasted when I told him i'm sitting home after going to the gym and eating pasta whilst I watch wrestling. If you dont know, pasta is illegal to eat on passover - we decided we should invent Mazta - pasta, made out of matzoh - so Jews all over the world could delight in such dishes as Mazta with shrimp fra diablo and Mazta with White Clam Sauce...
the only problem would be keeping it from turning into a sticky, moist mountain of paper maiche-like gunk when we boil it in water and then drain it
Masta (and Mazta) - trademark pending
Rock On,
Aitch
the only problem would be keeping it from turning into a sticky, moist mountain of paper maiche-like gunk when we boil it in water and then drain it
Masta (and Mazta) - trademark pending
Rock On,
Aitch
Friday, April 2, 2004
The Leper Table
Okay - wanna take a break from writing my screenplay (so far today I've written half a page...seriously, I've erased almost as much prior stuff as I've written...ack) so I'm gonna tell y'all about the wedding I went to a couple of Sundays ago (why? cause i may wanna use it if i write a story about family)....
Before i do though, I think a new movie that came out today has given me an idea of a baby name if and when the time comes...that's right...Hellboy.
ANYWAY, for those that don't know, I'm pretty much estranged from my whole family besides my mom and bro. Long story but my first cousin, whom I haven't seen in 10-12 years got maddied (married?...YES MADDIED!!) last weekend and in the interest of family harmony, my bro and I dragged our better half's along.
First of all, it was a Sunday Night in Long Island...Sunday night weddings should be illegal - I wont even argue this point - secondly, Bronwen and I had to drag our dressed-up carcasses to the wedding via subway, bus, and then car (it was like a John Hughes film). Nothing like taking a subway on a Sunday while there's your favorite team is playin in the NCAA tournament to go to a wedding that you don't wanna go to. Not good times...definately not good times.
Okay - let's skip to....We're at the wedding.
So, we're at the wedding - The five of us (mom too) are standing in our own little corner before the temple doors are opened. Looking over the crowd, it was apparently a theme wedding - Two Hundred Jews, A Trinidadian (my bro's wife) and an Irish Girl (my chick).
My uncle (mom's bro and father of the bride) sees us and comes over. Keep in mind I haven't seen the guy in ten years. Here's the conversation after the intro's...
Me: Congratulations!
Him: Thanks! So whatcha been up to?
Me: Same old...still workin' in Accounting...whats new with you..besides Rebecca's wedding?
Him: Nothin' really
Me: -----------------
Him: -------------------
Us: ----------------------
Him: So I guess I should mingle
Me: Oh, right...sure - see ya layta.
And mind you, I like my uncle - forget about having a rap with chicks..i don't even have a rap with my own family.
This older gent comes over with a woman - my mom greets him as my Aunt's bro - he tells me he hasn't seen me since I was this high (and he made the hand motion indicating little boy height) - he tell told me that I wont remember his wife since this is his second wife - my bro and i looked at each other and couldn't suppress a "Dude-we-dont-even-remember-YOU" laugh
He leaves and this older woman comes over - my mom asks if I remember Auntie Ann - my face flashes recognition as I said, "Sure I remember Aunt Ann." In my mind I was thinking about my grandmother's sister, who was Aunt Ann...but no, this wasn't who my mom was talking about. "This is your Aunt Ann." Huh, I thought while I said, "Oh, Hi!" She told me she hasn't seen me since I was this high (and she made the hand motion indicating little boy height)
The ceremony - it was okay - usual stuff - most of the male members of the wedding party were less than 30, all were Jewish, most were bald, and half were oddly enough, named "Jason."
ANYWAY, let's skip to the cocktail hour. I'm at the bar and The Imposter Aunt Ann is next to me ...I'm ordering a pink lady and a beer while the "Aunt Ann" is drinking scotch. Out of nowhere she says, "Yeah, so Fritz left me." After telling her "that sucks" she went on and on about him leaving her for a younger woman. Bronwen came over at this point - I was hoping she'd save me but she just took her beer - leaving me with my pink lady and "Aunt Ann" (the pink lady is a joke...just fer comedic effect..I was actually having an Appletini)
cocktail hour food was awesome by the way - caviar - mountains of chicken francais, veal, sushi, etc - jus' crazy
So we're goin' into the party room...reception room...dinner room...whatever - and we get out table numbers - my bro sees he's at Table 16..I look at my card and tell him, "So sorree, I'm at Table 1" - his face drops and asks, "You serious?" "Nah...16."
We both wondered where Table 16 was and who exactly we'd be sitting with - we assumed we'd be sitting in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with retards and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come). So we walked to Table 16.
They sat us in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with mentally challenged realtives and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come) - okay, I'm lying - they weren't mentally challenged - Bronwen thinks the twins sitting next to me had CP - the dude sitting right next to me kept asking me what was on his plate - it went something like this...
Him: What's this?
Me: Salad.
Him: What's this?
Me: Tuna
Him: What's this?
Me: A fork
Naturally being the UnsociaBlooms (copyright pending) - my bro and I didn't talk to anyone else at the table. Of course Bronwen had to introduce herself to CP dude next to me, necessitating my intro as well. I was just happy he didn't spit when talking.
Eventually, my Aunt, the mother of the groom came over and I went immediately into Wedding Voice...
Me: Congratulations!
Her: (I couldn't make out what she said)
Me: So I guess now ya just gotta wait for babies!
Her: (again, no idea)
Me: -------
Her: -----
Table: ---------
Her: See y'all later
Table: Bye!
Once again, I was having Blind Date interview flashbacks when I talking and I couldn't even believe what I was saying.
Thankfully, my bro has the perfect Get-Out-Of-Jail Early card (I guess that would be "parole") with his "Yeah, we gotta go and relieve the baby sitter" - we were out of there by ten, but not before we had to awkwardly cut into my niece's conversation since we had to say our good-bye's - and I got to tell Brian (the new hubby) that the last time I saw Rebecca, she was this high (and I made the hand motion indicating little girls height).
Rock On,
Aitch
Before i do though, I think a new movie that came out today has given me an idea of a baby name if and when the time comes...that's right...Hellboy.
ANYWAY, for those that don't know, I'm pretty much estranged from my whole family besides my mom and bro. Long story but my first cousin, whom I haven't seen in 10-12 years got maddied (married?...YES MADDIED!!) last weekend and in the interest of family harmony, my bro and I dragged our better half's along.
First of all, it was a Sunday Night in Long Island...Sunday night weddings should be illegal - I wont even argue this point - secondly, Bronwen and I had to drag our dressed-up carcasses to the wedding via subway, bus, and then car (it was like a John Hughes film). Nothing like taking a subway on a Sunday while there's your favorite team is playin in the NCAA tournament to go to a wedding that you don't wanna go to. Not good times...definately not good times.
Okay - let's skip to....We're at the wedding.
So, we're at the wedding - The five of us (mom too) are standing in our own little corner before the temple doors are opened. Looking over the crowd, it was apparently a theme wedding - Two Hundred Jews, A Trinidadian (my bro's wife) and an Irish Girl (my chick).
My uncle (mom's bro and father of the bride) sees us and comes over. Keep in mind I haven't seen the guy in ten years. Here's the conversation after the intro's...
Me: Congratulations!
Him: Thanks! So whatcha been up to?
Me: Same old...still workin' in Accounting...whats new with you..besides Rebecca's wedding?
Him: Nothin' really
Me: -----------------
Him: -------------------
Us: ----------------------
Him: So I guess I should mingle
Me: Oh, right...sure - see ya layta.
And mind you, I like my uncle - forget about having a rap with chicks..i don't even have a rap with my own family.
This older gent comes over with a woman - my mom greets him as my Aunt's bro - he tells me he hasn't seen me since I was this high (and he made the hand motion indicating little boy height) - he tell told me that I wont remember his wife since this is his second wife - my bro and i looked at each other and couldn't suppress a "Dude-we-dont-even-remember-YOU" laugh
He leaves and this older woman comes over - my mom asks if I remember Auntie Ann - my face flashes recognition as I said, "Sure I remember Aunt Ann." In my mind I was thinking about my grandmother's sister, who was Aunt Ann...but no, this wasn't who my mom was talking about. "This is your Aunt Ann." Huh, I thought while I said, "Oh, Hi!" She told me she hasn't seen me since I was this high (and she made the hand motion indicating little boy height)
The ceremony - it was okay - usual stuff - most of the male members of the wedding party were less than 30, all were Jewish, most were bald, and half were oddly enough, named "Jason."
ANYWAY, let's skip to the cocktail hour. I'm at the bar and The Imposter Aunt Ann is next to me ...I'm ordering a pink lady and a beer while the "Aunt Ann" is drinking scotch. Out of nowhere she says, "Yeah, so Fritz left me." After telling her "that sucks" she went on and on about him leaving her for a younger woman. Bronwen came over at this point - I was hoping she'd save me but she just took her beer - leaving me with my pink lady and "Aunt Ann" (the pink lady is a joke...just fer comedic effect..I was actually having an Appletini)
cocktail hour food was awesome by the way - caviar - mountains of chicken francais, veal, sushi, etc - jus' crazy
So we're goin' into the party room...reception room...dinner room...whatever - and we get out table numbers - my bro sees he's at Table 16..I look at my card and tell him, "So sorree, I'm at Table 1" - his face drops and asks, "You serious?" "Nah...16."
We both wondered where Table 16 was and who exactly we'd be sitting with - we assumed we'd be sitting in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with retards and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come). So we walked to Table 16.
They sat us in the dark recesses of the place, barely able to hear the band, and sitting with mentally challenged realtives and people from work they felt they had to invite (not thinking they'd actually come) - okay, I'm lying - they weren't mentally challenged - Bronwen thinks the twins sitting next to me had CP - the dude sitting right next to me kept asking me what was on his plate - it went something like this...
Him: What's this?
Me: Salad.
Him: What's this?
Me: Tuna
Him: What's this?
Me: A fork
Naturally being the UnsociaBlooms (copyright pending) - my bro and I didn't talk to anyone else at the table. Of course Bronwen had to introduce herself to CP dude next to me, necessitating my intro as well. I was just happy he didn't spit when talking.
Eventually, my Aunt, the mother of the groom came over and I went immediately into Wedding Voice...
Me: Congratulations!
Her: (I couldn't make out what she said)
Me: So I guess now ya just gotta wait for babies!
Her: (again, no idea)
Me: -------
Her: -----
Table: ---------
Her: See y'all later
Table: Bye!
Once again, I was having Blind Date interview flashbacks when I talking and I couldn't even believe what I was saying.
Thankfully, my bro has the perfect Get-Out-Of-Jail Early card (I guess that would be "parole") with his "Yeah, we gotta go and relieve the baby sitter" - we were out of there by ten, but not before we had to awkwardly cut into my niece's conversation since we had to say our good-bye's - and I got to tell Brian (the new hubby) that the last time I saw Rebecca, she was this high (and I made the hand motion indicating little girls height).
Rock On,
Aitch
Monday, March 29, 2004
Cafe Mozart - A Review
So on Saturday night, Bronwen and I went with Florencia and her very German husband Andreas to an Argentinian restaurant, but that's not what this review is about. We then went see Sweeney Todd at the New York City Opera, but that's not what this review is about. We finished off the evening at my favorite dessert establishment, Cafe Mozart, where, after deliberating longer than the Martha Stewart jury, I decided on the Mud Cake. THAT will be the subject of this review.
Though I've been to Cafe Mozart dozens of times, I don't think I'd ever gotten the Chocolate Mud Cake. Perhaps due to its inclusion on rib joint and Pizzeria Uno's menus, I didn't think it was worthy of an atmosphere where a piano player plays hit tunes from the 17 and 1800's. I had always gone for The Peanut Butter Fudge Cake or The Death by Chocolate or The Black Forest Cake or The Triple Decker (see menu below)....oh, what I have been missing.
Denser than the Vietnamese jungle, this slice of heaven is truely something to behold. Combining Vienesse fudge, chocolate mousse, and bittersweet chocolate pieces may seem like chocolate and chocolate related overkill to some, but let my assure you my friends, it was just the right anount of kill. The texture was like eating Skippy Extra Crunch Peanut Butter...except all chocolate...and I ate this with a spoon rather than my finger (umm, sorry Bronwen).
As soon as the first morsel touched my lips, I closed my eyes and was immediately transported back to grand ol' Austria circa 1784. I was sitting in an Austrian restaurant with three others eating a slice of chocolate mud cake and listening to a piano player. Then I opened my eyes sine I was already doing that...and my eyes crust over when I leave them closed for too long. Then I took my second bite. Then I ate some of Bronwen's raspberry sorbet. Then I put some of Bronwen's raspberry sorbet on my chocolate mud cake. Then I swished her raspberry sorbet into my chocolate mud cake. Then I just ate some fo my chocolate mud cake. Then I told Andreas to look at the pretty picture on the wall and ate his cake. Then I...
Anyway, it was yummy.
http://www.cafemozart.com/desserts.asp
Rock On,
Aitch
Though I've been to Cafe Mozart dozens of times, I don't think I'd ever gotten the Chocolate Mud Cake. Perhaps due to its inclusion on rib joint and Pizzeria Uno's menus, I didn't think it was worthy of an atmosphere where a piano player plays hit tunes from the 17 and 1800's. I had always gone for The Peanut Butter Fudge Cake or The Death by Chocolate or The Black Forest Cake or The Triple Decker (see menu below)....oh, what I have been missing.
Denser than the Vietnamese jungle, this slice of heaven is truely something to behold. Combining Vienesse fudge, chocolate mousse, and bittersweet chocolate pieces may seem like chocolate and chocolate related overkill to some, but let my assure you my friends, it was just the right anount of kill. The texture was like eating Skippy Extra Crunch Peanut Butter...except all chocolate...and I ate this with a spoon rather than my finger (umm, sorry Bronwen).
As soon as the first morsel touched my lips, I closed my eyes and was immediately transported back to grand ol' Austria circa 1784. I was sitting in an Austrian restaurant with three others eating a slice of chocolate mud cake and listening to a piano player. Then I opened my eyes sine I was already doing that...and my eyes crust over when I leave them closed for too long. Then I took my second bite. Then I ate some of Bronwen's raspberry sorbet. Then I put some of Bronwen's raspberry sorbet on my chocolate mud cake. Then I swished her raspberry sorbet into my chocolate mud cake. Then I just ate some fo my chocolate mud cake. Then I told Andreas to look at the pretty picture on the wall and ate his cake. Then I...
Anyway, it was yummy.
http://www.cafemozart.com/desserts.asp
Rock On,
Aitch
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