Tag: NYC

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personal

Interestingly Weird

It’s like a salad but with alcohol

Saw my college friends – with alla our kids – the other day. They wanted to check out the gym. The kids had a blast running all over the mats.

Afterwards, we walked over to Shake Shack which is exactly what they all wanted.

I’ve known one of these guys since we were 16 years old – 32 years. It really boggles the mind.

There’s an older fella, that joined our gym that lives just a few blocks from my pad.

He runs a hedge fund, but used to play for the NFL, so he’s got a tonier address than I do. Much.

Mentioned to him that Charles Pan-Fried Chicken moved from Harlem to halfway between the two of us.

The lines have been around the block but he has people that work for him so he sent one of them to wait in line for us.

Him: What should she order?
Me: Definitely the fried chicken, the collard greens, and the ribs. God, the ribs are killer. Man, it’s good to have people.

She ordered enough to feed an army. Or just me.

Me: I’m going to kill all the chicken.
Him: Go ahead, we got it for you!

Because he used to play for the NFL, he’s a giant. But I think I ate more than him, which is a bit embarrassing.

I brought the kid over for dinner to boot, and his wife just adored him. It was sweet to see.

Me: (to kid) You’re making a mess!
Her: It’s fine, I have a son and remember this.
Me: You’re being too nice.

The kid literally just wanted the mac and cheese and the cornbread. He ate FOUR pieces of cornbread.

Him: I’m full.
Me: (scoffing) Yeah, of carbs.
Him: I love carbs!

Years ago, I was always the youngest of the people I hung out with. A number of them called me, “the kid,” a lot.

Since Alison died, I mostly hung out with people from my gym, who were all at least 15-20 years younger than me, making me the elder statesman of the group.

But, I’m trying to fix a buncha things in my life. One thing is how over-weighted I’ve been with much younger people in my social circle.

It’s fine, for the most part, but when you’re the oldest and most experienced person in a group, you’re usually giving information rather than getting it.

And, like I’ve said a buncha times before, you’re the average of the five people you hang out with the most and I feel my mind focusing on things that it shouldn’t be focusing on.

So, between hanging out with Steel and his surgeon brother, my college friends, and the NFL Player, I feel more like the version of me I was before everything went down.

Plus, I like hanging out with hyper-ambitious and successful people because their energy rubs off on me.

After all, it’s better to have success models versus failure models.

My life’s becoming interestingly weird again, which I kinda missed.

Later on, I invited the NFL Player out to eat some Chinese food to repay him for all the killer soul food we had.

Me: Notice something?
Him: What?
Me: You’re one of the only non-Chinese here. So, you know the food’s killer.

Ordered an obscene amount of food, as you might imagine.

We ended up grabbing drinks around the way – I ordered a mojito…

Him: What is that, exactly?
Me: It’s like a salad, but with alcohol.

…and some Hemmingway daiquiris.

He’s set on fixing me up with some of his friends.

Him: (showing me a picture) What about her?
Me: Oh, she’s pretty. But I’m currently…
Him: (interrupting) She’s worth half-a-billion dollars.
Me: Welp, suddenly, I’m a lot more interested. Although the last almost billionaire I dated was an asshole. Wait, you wanna set up a super wealthy woman with a dude that runs a gym?
Him: (laughs) You have your charm. (later) Let’s go talk to the singer…

Next thing you know, he’s shoving me in front of the singer at the bar we’re at.

Him: In terms of charm, out of 10, what would you give my buddy Logan here?
Her: (laughing) A solid 10.
Him: There you go. Logan?
Me: Jesus Christ…I can’t bring him anywhere. So, what’s your story?

Location: earlier today, learning a pressure pass with Pac
Mood: flattered
Music: know right here and now that I’d go anywhere with you (Spotify)
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personal

Women don’t get that luxury, Logan

Horror and a buncha random texts

Lately, my life’s been a whirlwind of things, almost all bad. Don’t even know where to start.

Since my injury in October, I’ve been to physical therapy for months. Finally got cleared to go back on the mats – without a brace – about two weeks ago.

Well, earlier this week, stepped onto the mats and someone I was sparring with got hold of my ankle and torqued it so hard that one girl said she heard it across the room.

She was so concerned that she wrote me, which was super sweet. We have some solid people in our gym.

(In our gym’s defense, this was a visitor and not one of our normal guys.)

It happened in a flash; I didn’t have a chance to tap. In terms of pain, it was just slightly less than the time I popped my ACL.

Regardless, after four months of being in rehab, two weeks of limited normalcy, I’m right back to where I started in October and injured again.

It’s less than ideal.

HEI saw my post and, like a million people I know, is dealing with her own health issues, so she shot me this.

There’s definitely something in the air.

Me: No! My LEFT hand. You have to hold my LEFT hand.
Him: But why?
Me: Because…because I need my right hand free.

I’ve been in my head a lot lately for a number of reasons I’m still trying to sort out.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to think clearly about anything what with the rising lunacy of the city.

The recent horrific and senseless killings of Christina Yuna Lee and Michelle Go – both Asian women – has my female and Asian friends on high alert.

I’m already stressed walking around with my kid when I’m relatively healthy. Being injured all these months have made matters worse. This latest injury, all the more so.

Plus, I feel bad for the kid because he’s too young to understand.

Although I recently met up with a young woman and her nine-year-old daughter and the topic of Christina Yuna Lee came up.

Maybe I shouldn’t keep him for knowing the world as it really is.

Daughter: Who was that (Christina Yuna Lee)?
Me: A woman, who got hurt.
Woman: (correcting me to her daughter) No. She was killed. She was killed by a stranger.
Me: (later) Don’t you think she’s a little young to know about these types of horrors?
Woman: (shaking her head) Girls don’t get that luxury of not knowing these things, Logan. Women don’t get that luxury.

I get that, I suppose, as much as a guy can get that.

Everything’s a horror these days but I forget that horror comes in layers of more horror.

Him: Are you mad to me?
Me: (shaking head) No, I’m sorry. Papa’s foot hurts and I’m just…frustrated.
Him: If I could, I’d carry you!
Me: (smiling) I know you would, kid. I know you would. Here, take my hand. My left hand. My other left, kid.

A babysitter I recently hired shot me this text and I was both flattered and somewhat creeped out.

This happens to me with some regularity so I can only imagine what a woman’s life must be like.

Actually, TBH, I’d rather not.

Location: waiting for the subway elevator
Mood: a bad mix
Music: wish that I could go back and say, “Hey, now or never” (Spotify)
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A Strange & Complicated Evening Pt 2: Putting on the Mask

Afraid of Yesterday

Me: Technically, any woman I meet is your competition and any man you meet is mine.
Her: (laughing) Oh, Logan…they’re not my competition.
Me: Fair.

It turns out the Counselor was in the same hospital, the same building, the same floor – the same wing – that Alison was during the early part of her illness.

Of course.

Felt that same feeling of “this can’t possibly be real,” that I felt for most/all of her sickness that I hadn’t felt in a really long time. It was an unwelcome but familiar feeling.

Dunno why but, I decided to go see the Counselor and – as if by auto-pilot – made my way from the gym to the Upper East Side.

That’s not true. I do know why I went to see her. There were two reasons, in fact, but more on that later.

Visiting hours were long closed but I managed to convince the guard to let me in after a solid 15 minutes of chatting with her. The truth is a powerful thing and I think the guard knew it would be good for the Counselor (and me) if I made it upstairs.

When I walked into the hospital, I was greeted with the same view that I first saw the day I first went there with Alison in that goddamn ambulance.

It was just missing the Christmas tree.

I walked past the same everything that I did all those years ago and tried to keep it together as I maneuvered my way past several security guards, nurses, and various support staff, alla whom noted that I didn’t have a Visitors Pass a solid hour after visiting hours ended.

I was clearly not supposed to be there. I suppose a bright red leather jacket doesn’t help matters.

But, after all that, I finally made it to her room and walked in.

As always, during times like this, I put on my mask: I pushed all that doubt to the side of my mouth, straightened my back, took a deep breath, put on a big smile, and walked in to see a set of pretty eyes.

Me: This is a terrible date venue you picked, I gotta say.

I settled onto the windowsill and looked out across the river to see the exact same view I saw all those years ago.

Me: (staring out) These windows don’t open all the way, you know?
Her: I didn’t.
Me: (nodding) Yeah. I tried to jump out of them years ago and I found that out.

It got a little darker than that but I was there to try to cheer her up, not bring her down.

As comedy relief, her roommate would let out a hacking cough (non-COVID related) every so often while we were in a deep conversation, which doesn’t sound funny but it was such an odd situation that it was.

There’s more, quite a bit more, but most of that’s her story and not mine to tell, as always.

I’ll just tell you that she’s probably going to be fine.

I was glad I went. Can’t remember the last time someone was that happy to see me. Forgot what it was like to have some kindness. That was probably the most attractive thing about her.

Her: It was sweet of you to come.
Me: (shaking head) No, not at all. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You should get some rest.

So, that’s the first reason I went. Honestly couldn’t tell you if she was more grateful that I went or if I was more grateful that she let me see her.

The second reason, though, was that I’ve been forcing myself to not think of Alison for…years now. Think I knew that, if I went to that hospital, I’d be forced to think of her and remember her.

And I wanted that.

As I made my way downstairs, everything came rushing back at me at once. The smell of the place, the feeling of dread, it hit me as I felt as if it was December of 2015 all over again. Like it was yesterday.

By the time I got to the ground floor, I went straight to the same bathroom that I threw up in twice before over Alison and did it once again.

Honestly, though, after I cleaned myself off and left, I felt better.

I remembered Alison. I remembered that version of me; the one that was a new father, trying desperately to save his wife he loved more than anything.

Not knowing that they were all already fucked.

My gift, if you will, is to forget. It’s a survival mechanism and part of why I have this blog; because I know I’ll forget things. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.

After all, fear is forward, no one is afraid of yesterday.

I walked outside, hopped a cab home, and was neck-deep in my thoughts when the Acrobat called.

Her: How was your night?
Me: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

It was a short convo. I was worried about the Counselor, which sounds silly as she’s a stranger to me. But she didn’t deserve anything that had happened to her.

After a while, I shot a text to my mother-in-law asking if she was awake and she replied yes.

So, I rang her and told her what happened.

Me: I try so hard to forget Alison. And I feel guilty about that. But I just wanted you to know that…I loved her so much, mom. (deep breath) I loved her so much.
Her: (gently) I know, Logan. Try to get some rest.

Location: just north of Solas, being tossed out like garbage
Mood: don’t even know how to begin to tell you
Music: I’m gonna need somebody (Spotify)
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dating

A Strange & Complicated Evening Pt 1: Sounds Class

No, no time at all

My friend Bridget hit me up the other day. There’s a bidding war going on for her skills in business and she asked if we could meet up for dinner on Thursday.

I already had a date lined up with the Counselor later on that night but the timing actually worked out.

Me: If you’re up for Korean, we can head to Koreatown.
Bridge: Koreatown sounds class, let’s do that, you pick the place.

The weather was just lovely so we took a walk from 18th Street to 32nd Street. Along the way, I showed her where Alison and I went on our first date all those years ago.

Here’s a picture of Alison that I snapped right before I walked up to her to tell her that I was there.

Man, I loved that girl. Fuck me.

Bridge: You know we’ve known each other close to 20 years?
Me: (laughing) Has it been that long?
Her: You know what I hate the most about that?
Me: What?
Her: You haven’t aged a day. Nadi and I both hate that about you.

I actually interviewed her for her gig all those years ago. I liked her immediately. She had this really cool Irish brogue to boot.

This was being filmed on the walk up.

After we settled into my go-to Korean restaurant, I reminded her that she and her husband were the last people to see Alison out and about, socially.

Her: (thinking) I’ve been wondering when I should bring this up.
Me: What?
Her: (slowly) We’re divorcing. It’s been a long time coming.
Me: I have to say, Alison always wondered why you were with him.

That unpleasantness aside, we honestly both had a great time hanging out.

Her: …I have about 45 people reporting to me.
Me: Jesus Christ. I remember meeting you when all you had was crazy ambition. Now look at you. My cousin Ras has this saying that she loves and you’re kinda the definition of it: You’re a Boss Bitch.
Her: (laughing) I like it.
Me: Now, how can I make this work for me?

Afterward, I walked her back to the train station.

Her: I hope you give one of these women a chance. (gently) The lawyer sounds promising. Give her a chance. The others…
Me: We’ll see. I’m in a weird headspace.

That was totally true.

After she left, I thought about everything we discussed and started getting really angry. It’s irrational, I know.

See, it turns out that he was drinking himself to death. They’ve got two kids and hearing that made me so…angry.

Alison and my dad struggled for so long to survive and this dude was killing himself instead of dealing with his demons.

But then I realized I did the same thing myself for years and, somehow, that just made me angrier.

Decided to head back to the gym and, while I was changing, Chad noticed that I wasn’t myself.

Him: Are you ok?
Me: I’m drunk and I’m angry.
Him: How angry?
Me: Murderously.
Him: OK, then you gotta go.
Me: (nodding)

So, less than five minutes after I arrived, I changed yet again, and walked out the door.

Had to pull myself together because I was meeting up with the Counselor. I was so messed up that I drafted a message to her asking her for a rain check.

But she actually beat me to the punch before I could send it.

Counselor: Hey, I’m sooo sorry to do this but I have to reschedule our date tonight. I had a bit of an emergency come up and I just can’t get around it. I’m super disappointed I have to cancel.
Me: Do you not have any time at all?

This was her response:

Her: No, no time at all.

That was the start of one of the strangest and complicated evenings I’ve ever had.

And I’ve had many strange and complicated evenings in this life.

Location: earlier today, running into a possible past downtown
Mood: not sober
Music: When the world goes changing, I will be your sure thing (Spotify)
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The Floater

Rising rapidly in the rankings

Friend: Please, you seek out [rich and successful] people.
Me: That’s not exactly true.

It’s been a strange few weeks.

Some important people in my life left, some came back, and some seem to have just arrived.

Still trying to make sense of it all.

Saw some college friends – along with their kids – this past weekend.

Never told you this but the head surgeon at one of the major hospitals is a buddy of mine.

When Alison had one of her billion surgeries, she was super weak and couldn’t make the return trip to remove the staples in her skull. So, he made a house call, came over, and removed them for us. No questions asked.

It was a super kind gesture for a dude that is ridonk high-ranking in NYC. He never saw her again.

It hurt me to write that.

Dunno why I feel compelled to tell you that.

We met again at the party in NJ from a few years back. And this past weekend, I brought the boy to his (ginormous!) apartment in Chelsea after the kid and I met his brother and nephew for dim sum in Chinatown.

It was bittersweet. The boy, however, had a blast.

Him: Do we have to go?
Me: ‘Fraid so, kiddo.
Him: Awwwww…

Speaking of doctors, got fixed up with one recently. Totally my type BUT just zero chemistry.

Me: If you were trapped on a desert island, what would be the one thing you’d want to have?
Her: Why would I be trapped on a desert island?

That’s how the entire evening was. It was like pulling teeth. God, I hate dating.

Although, we did discuss just that.

Her: Well, there is this one guy. He’ll never commit but it’s hard to just stop things with him.
Me: Ah, a floater. I had a floater of my own for a while, once. So, I get it. But ultimately, it’s all just a waste of everyone’s time.

While I was chatting with her, a smoking hot lawyer that I met recently hit me up.

She actually WAS a law professor while I only wished to be one.

Her: It’s been an extreeeeeeeemely [long day]. And it’s not looking like it’s wrapping up anytime soon. What are you up to?
Me: I’m writing you on a date if that means anything. I’m an awful person but I’m bored to tears at the moment.
Her: Do you need an emergency work call? Just say the word.
Me: I would but I’m trying to wrap this up naturally.

It’s funny, you kinda realize what you want more when presented with a better option.

So, I took it.

Me: (exiting) Another date-to-nowhere, over.
Her: Ugh, those are the worst. I’m at least marginally more fun.

Thought about what my friend said about my seeking out rich and successful people. There’s some truth to that but it’s along the same lines as, “I married Alison for her money.”

It’s not that I want to be friends with them because they’re wealthy and wildly successful, it’s that they made them themselves wealthy and wildly successful. That ambition and drive is what attracts me.

Told you once that you’re the average of the five people that you hang out with the most.

When you have a relationship with someone, you don’t just have a relationship with them, you have a relationship with the five people they hang out with the most, and the five people that each one of those five hang out with and so on.

And if they’re all lame with zero ambition, that rubs off on them, and – ultimately – on you.

A buddy once told me that he hung out with me so much that he became me. But, I realized that he actually became the person he was crushing on since high school because that’s who he spends the most time floating around and aspiring to be.

The thing is that I stopped hanging out with his crush – who’s, honestly, quite nice but just so…lame; she’s not particularly bad, but she’s also not particularly anything, really.

And I realized that I continued hanging out with him, the lameness of his crush would glom onto me and I couldn’t have that.

It probably sounds elitist to you, but there are 7.753 billion people in the world and you can’t hang out with all of them.

Why not have your five be wildly successful versus just meh?

Besides, now that I’ve got the kid, gotta be very careful who I let into his life. Because they’ll leave a bit of themselves with me, and I’ll – in turn – leave them with him.

Which, depending on the person, might not be a bad thing.

Her: Actually, the case I’m working on is in the papers right now. Google, [my client] and you can read up on where we are right now.
Me: (minutes later) Holy shitballs, Counselor! (later) I’m super turned on right now. You’re rising rapidly in the rankings
Her: (laughing) Does first place get a gold star?
Me: (scoffing) Please, I’m the prize! What woman wouldn’t want a neurotic and clumsy, but somewhat charming, non-practicing Ivy-League-educated lawyer that fights and cooks?
Her: (continues laughing)

Location: earlier today, showing Chad now to remove a flapper
Mood: stupidly optimistic
Music: Got some brand new wings. No, we won’t go back. (Spotify)
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Parenting Drama Pt 2 – Educate the Children

It’s French

I’m sure you remember the Pythagorean theorem from grammar school.

But, Pythagoras was also a philosopher, with a quote I’ve always liked: Educate the children and it won’t be necessary to punish the men.

Obvs, let’s make it gender neutral.

That’s kinda how I look at my responsibility when it comes to teaching this kid. If I screw it up, he’ll bear the punishment for my failures, not me. Can’t have that.

On the flip side, though, I wonder if I’m too strict. Spoke to my mom not that long ago:

Her: I think you’re too hard on him.
Me: I’m too hard on him?! Have you met you? You were super hard on us.
Her: Noooooo.
Me: You’ve got to be kidding me.
Her: (ignoring me) He’s such a good boy. Be easier on him.
Me: What planet am I on right now?

Now, before we went to the party together last weekend, I was supposed to have a sitter come in for part of the day but she totally flaked with on me, first with this excuse:

Her next text was saying the snow was too much. Very annoying.

But, the boy and I ended up having a really fun time the whole weekend, starting out in Central Park with his classmates.

And the next day, it was literally just him and me in this playground the entire morning.

Man, being a parent is stressful. Dunno if any of these choices I’m making are the right ones, but I hope they are.

Him: I’m bore…
Me: Don’t say it! Don’t say it.
Him: Fiiiiine. I’m going to play my ukulele. (walks away)
Me: (under breath) Just don’t start a band, drop out of school, and become a musician.
Him: What?
Me: I said, have fun!

Mouse was in the city, so she and I grabbed dinner around the way. Purely as friends.

Me: You drove all the way in so, obviously, my treat.
Her: French/Japanese. Something flavorful.

We ended up going to the same bistro I went to the other day with Chad and friends.

Me: A Croque Madame is essentially a grilled cheese with ham and an egg.
Her: That’s an insane price for a grilled cheese.
Me: (shrugging) It’s French.

We went to a bar around the way, but it was closed so we went to another bar down the street.

It was late when she went home.

Once wrote that I was never friends with a serious ex.

But I’m trying new things because we’re both part of the fabric of each other’s lives. Still, it’s complicated.

Her: Get out.
Me: (sighing) Hokay, I’ll try again tomorrow.

Ended up having a completely sleepless night because I’m not used to eating or drinking at night – I’m still doing intermittent fasting so I rarely consume anything after 6PM.

Just as well.

The Acrobat: What are you up to?
Me: Talking to you, evidently.

Location: earlier today, in the third nicest apartment I’ve ever been in. This time, right outside the gym
Mood: so fulla carbs, you wouldn’t believe
Music: classy girls don’t kiss in bars, you fool (Spotify)
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I only have two modes

Getting Old is a Gift

A few weeks ago:

Her: Here. You want some?
Me: No, I’m good, darling.
Her: (laughing) I thought you were a lawyer, not a cop.
Me: It’s not that. I’m only have two modes: Way too much or not at all.

Decades ago, I was in a club called Club USA for work when I was called upstairs to chat with the big mucky-muck.

There was a mirrored platter – maybe it was just a mirror, I don’t remember – with a mountain of cocaine on it. They motioned for me to sit down and the fella that called me upstairs handed me a rolled-up piece of paper.

Me: No, I’m good.
Him: What are you, a cop?
Me: No. I had some earlier and I don’t wanna overdo it.

That was a bald-faced lie, I was just scared.

The clubs were always swimming in drugs but I never took any because I was a club producer not a club consumer. But I was certain I’d be seen as what I thought myself to be: A fake and a poser.

After what seemed to be forever, the main guy looked at me and…

Him: (slowly nodding) Never had one of you say no. It’s good to know your limits, kid. So, what’s your offer?

And that was the start of my twenties in NYC, which were pretty nuts. Too bad I didn’t have a blog back then.

Funny thing is, a fella joined my gym earlier this week and brought up Rain, who did have a blog during that crazy time.

Him: …I was part of all that. Like AsianAvenue.
Me: (laughing) Do you remember Rain?
Him: Wait, you’re Logan from Bachelor Cooking?
Me: That was a lifetime ago, but yeah.

Thought about that because I got an invite to a party thrown by my friends around the way.

Last time, it was me and the Gymgirl at The Time Warner Center. This time, it was me and the kid on an entire floor at the Park Hyatt.

As soon as we walked in, we saw RE Mike and his wife, Maggie.

Her: OMG, that’s your son? He’s so big now! He’s adorable.
Me: It’s good, because I’m required by law to keep him another 11 years.

It was a great night – the kid sang all the songs and danced up a storm – well, until people took note of a little kid singing along to all the current pop songs.

Her: How does he know all these songs?
Me: Heck if I know, he just does.

Then he just wrapped his arms around me and asked to go back the table.

But he spent most of the night with Maggie and all the other women I knew there at the party.

Which is just as well, because I’m worried that he might be developing a gambling habit.

The funny thing is that my buddy from around the way, me, and RE Mike used to head out on the town together and hit up the clubs.

They remember when I met the German Girl at a local dive bar and any number of other random women/outings.

And now we’re having filet mignon and tuna tartare with champagne at the Park Hyatt with a live band, professional dancers, and more entertainment than you can shake a stick at.

Although, it’s good I didn’t bring any sticks to shake.

It’s also good having success models as friends.

Speaking of friends, my friend Sue wrote me recently, noting that she was sad she was getting older.

Me: I get it but I appreciate the luxury of being able to get old at all. As you know, I know too many that don’t have that. So try to be grateful that I can get old at all.
Her: You’re right, that’s something to be thankful for.

Every day is a gift.  And these gifts are even better when they’re with good and old friends.

Me: Thanks for always including us. We so appreciate it.
Her: Of course. We love you both.

And family.

Location: earlier today, at a swimming pool wondering if I should jump in
Mood: grateful
Music: You gotta wake up every morning, see the day as a gift
 (Spotify)
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Lil Rollers

Gaius Julius Caesar

Her: How did you meet your wife?
Me: (laughing) Same way I met you, darling.

My buddy is currently juggling about three or four women right now. Each one was a street pickup, which might sound crass to you, but it’s not meant to be; a street pickup simply means someone you have zero nexus with – a total stranger.

When I met Alison, she was just a beautiful girl walking into a club I was walking out of. I literally thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Even though she was on date – with a guy called Tall Scott, which gives you some indication of what he looked like relative to 5’8″ me – I knew I had to meet her. Even if that meant I’d get socked in the face.

Best decision I ever made.

The best decision she ever made was to go on a date with Tall Scott (who, I should note, was a nice fella, but she was mine, not his).

Most people have some nexus with the person they love the most in the world with: They’re classmates, gym buddies, co-workers, something.

But a street pickup is zero nexus – it’s a complete and utter stranger.

Now, as it turned out, we ended up having a friend in common, but when we first spoke to each other, we didn’t know that.

For some reason, I’m quite proud of that fact.

Me: In one of our first conversations, I told her that Julius was Caesar’s middle name. His first name was Gaius.
Her: (laughing) I never knew that.
Me: And now you do.
Her: (later) You’re very nice. But you’re obviously still in love with your wife.
Me: I am. It’s even more complicated than you might imagine. (shrugging) I don’t think true love ever dies. And I don’t think most people would call me, “nice.”
Her: What would they call you?

Me: Did you have fun?
Him: I loved it! Can we come again tomorrow?!
Me: (laughing) Sorry, kiddo. Only once a week for us for now.
Him: Awwwwwwww!

We just recently launched our kids program that we named the Paxibellum Lil Rollers. My son was a bit apprehensive but both Chad and I were floored at just how good our buddy Mike was at teaching kids.

For example, at one point, he fell and started to cry and Mike totally brought him back and made him just fall in love with program.

Today was his second class and, when he came in, I told him Mouse might be there so he hit the mat and started running around screaming at the top of his lungs, “I wanna see Mousie!!!”

It was pretty adorbs, I gotta say.

She ended up not coming but Pez was there – she’s going to be the assistant kids coach – and the kid was thrilled to have a friend on the mats.

Afterwards, I got them all Taco Bell, just because … oh, you know…

Anywho, if you have a kid between the ages of 5 and 14 in Manhattan, bring them by our gym at 4 W 18th Street. They’ll be in great hands.

Me: Dude, he’s so good at this.
Chad: Yeah, man, he really is.

Tonight, my kali coach was late to class so I covered the first half.

It was weird teaching again. I think the last time I taught a class was maybe in 2014. And, I gotta admit, I missed it.

Chad: I’ve never seen you teach before.
Me: Really? (thinking) Oh, I guess that’s right.
Him: You’re good at it. You should do it more.
Me: Maybe someday. I got the kid. (laughing) Besides, we can’t afford me yet.

Location: home
Mood: remorseful
Music: that’s how you’ll stay. That’s why, darling (Spotify)
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Chad and Mouse turn 32

I can work it!

Chad and Mouse both turned 32 recently. Unlike when they turned 30, this was a far more sedate affair.

Chad was in the mood for ramen – or so I thought – so Pac and I took him and Mouse out to eat at Oramen just around the way from the gym.

Pac and I got there first.

Him: I’m gonna get some hot sake. It’s perfect for weather like this.
Me: I’ll have some too.

We ended up ordering sushi and appetizers for the table just cause he and I were already hungry.

Then Chad and Mouse showed up.

Me: Wait, we came to a ramen joint because you wanted ramen and you’re not ordering ramen.
Him: No, I said I wanted to come here because the food’s good.

They had duck ramen and I was tempted to get that but instead got the beef rib ramen.

It was excellent. I’m getting hungry just writing this.

We all chatted for a bit before we left, but not before the owner caught us heading out and offered to take a picture of us with my camera.

We ended up going to the same place we went to for their 30th – and Mouse’s 28th – Solas.

Some other people from the gym showed up and we ended up staying there until about midnight or so.

Mouse and I left last.

Me: Shall we dance?
Her: (laughs) OK.

We went downstairs and stayed there for a bit before she called an Uber and I headed home. It was nice seeing everyone have a good time.

Had a pretty restless night because of all the drinking and other reasons but that’s neither here nor there.

Met up with sister-in-law at the Plaza Hotel the next day; she was nice enough to watch the boy while I went out the night before.

Chad and I actually met up again on Sunday; The CEO asked us out to brunch and, since I live around the way, I could hardly say no.

He introduced us an Army Colonel, and two well-heeled financial guys – one was also a Judo Instructor and the other the Vice-President of The CEO’s co-op on Central Park West.

VP: Wait, you’re single? You should meet my sister.
Me: You should hear more about me before you offer up relatives to meet me.
The CEO: I’ve already tried to fix Logan up with a hot blonde and someone else.
VP: I’ll send you her information.

Chad was gonna order a burger but I convinced him to get the Croque Madame instead, just because we had been chatting about maybe heading off to Europe one of these days.

He ended up being more open to it than my son was.

Me: How was it?
Him: Pretty good!

Me? I ordered the Egg Benedict with smoked salmon and a side salad just because I’ve been working out like mad lately and wanted to keep the diet up as well.

Although I cheated a great deal.

Me: Chad, I’m taking some of your fries.
Colonel: There’s some here as well.
Me: Oh, I’ll take those too. It doesn’t count if you didn’t order it.

They were all pretty interesting fellas but the Colonel was actually a lecturer at West Point on Strategies and Tactics.

Me: You know, it’s funny, but Chad and I [through our Scenic Fights channel] talk a lot about strategies and tactics on a micro level, whereas your expertise seems the same, but on a macro level.
Him: Oh, we can all get together and talk shop anytime.
Me: I’m down. I actually thought about being a professor myself, but I would just want to teach. Stuff like grading exams and dealing with students keeps me from pursuing that.
Chad: Yeah, I just want to teach. Logan takes care of everything else for me.

The CEO ended up covering the entire bill.

Me: Oh man…
Him: It’s fine, I invited you all out.
Me: It’s not that, had I known you were going to pay, I woulda ordered the steak.

After a while, we all went our separate ways. Chad and I talked about the gym for a bit before I brought the kid to a playdate around the way.

Me: Look out for the dog poop!
Him: I know how to work it, Papa!

The mother of the kid that we met up and I started talking about diet and exercise and she actually subscribes to the exact same dietary philosophy that I adhere to.

Me: I mainly feed him protein, fat, and fiber.
Her: Me too!

She made most of her money as an artist and I pretty impressed with her set up. She’s a single parent just like me that also lived in a Manhattan duplex.

Me: Yeah, the kid having his own room is perfect. I get my own space, he gets his.
She: Exactly!

We ended agreeing on most things, which is pretty rare since I think I raise the boy pretty differently from most people.

In any case, by the time we got home, both the kid and were wiped.

Him: I want to call Mouse on her birthday.
Me: That can be arranged. Did you have fun this weekend?
Him: (sleepily nods)
Me: Me too, kiddo.

Location: earlier today, hearing about an ambush in Afghanistan while safely having coffee on the UWS
Mood: curious
Music: I know my heart’s got room for you (Spotify)
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Sledding, Winnie, Micky, and a Dentist

Not Linked In

I got an email from LinkedIn today that caught my eye. It looks like the university that my buddy told me was looking for an IP professor is now broadly searching for someone.

On a related note, January 1st, 2022 was/is a huge day in IP law. It’s the day that Winnie the Pooh and Micky Mouse lasped into public domain. This means that anyone can legally create a Winnie the Pooh or Micky Mouse related business (with a billion exceptions).

Like I said, before everything went down with Alison and my dad, both events would have a huge impact on my life.

Today? It’s just something I mention in this here blog and I’ll probably not think about again until the next cocktail party I attend.

Or brunch.

Maybe not.

I recently had the kid’s teeth pulled. Again.

We ended up doing outside of insurance (again) so it’ll be gruel and weak tea for us for the next two years.

Jesus Christ, healthcare costs are ridic.

After getting my own teeth bashed in this past October, I switched the kid’s helmet to a full face and head version.

Buddy: Does the kid care that he’s the only one wearing a helmet to go sledding?
Me: No. And even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. I gotta keep him safe. That’s literally my only job.

It didn’t matter yesterday anywho. It was single digits and he was the only one sledding. But he loved it. That’s all that I cared about.

Him: This is so much fun! Do you want to try?
Me: (laughing) I’m good, kid. Go again. I’ll be here, waiting.
Him: OK, papa! Watch me!!

Location: being told to stop being a p$#@$ by a girl in Union Square
Mood: family-oriented
Music: it’s only my will that keeps me alive (Spotify)
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